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"Georgia only requires one party to consent to the recording, so just keep the conversation going as long as possible," Michaels emphasized. "We don’t expect you to act brave. He’ll try and bully you. The more he talks, the more likely he is to incriminate himself."

I nodded, trying to ignore the cold dread pooling in my stomach. Chris and Saul had already left for the restaurant to maintain normalcy, and I would arrive separately with one of the agents.

"You ready?" Agent Michaels asked, his hand on my shoulder.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "Yes," I answered, though my heart hammered against my ribs.

The drive to Saul's restaurant seemed both too short and interminably long. The agent beside me—Agent Torres, a woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor—kept up a steady stream of reassurances.

"You'll have at least three agents in your line of sight at all times," she said as we pulled into the parking lot. "Reynolds won't risk anything in a public place, but even if he tries, we'll be on him before he can blink. We just want him to talk, that’s all."

I nodded, my throat too dry for words. Through the windows, I could see the warm, inviting interior of Saul's restaurant. It was a popular place—casual but elegant, with dark wood tables and soft lighting. Under any other circumstances, I would have been excited to finally see where Saul worked, to be part of his world outside our home. He’d promised me I could see if I liked the idea of working there.

"Remember," Torres said, "act natural. Just a new server learning the ropes."

I stepped out of the car, smoothing down the black shirt and pants Saul had provided for my "first day.

" The restaurant was busy but not packed—perfect for the operation.

As I entered, I immediately spotted Chris at the bar, chatting with patrons while keeping a watchful eye on the door.

Our eyes met briefly, and I drew strength from the steadiness of his gaze.

Saul emerged from the kitchen, his face lighting up, but he was careful to welcome me like any new staff member.

"Jesse! Right on time," Saul said with professional warmth, though I could see the worry in his eyes. "Let me show you around."

He led me through the restaurant, introducing me to staff members (some real, some agents) and explained the layout. His hand occasionally brushed mine when no one was looking, a silent reassurance.

"You'll be working this section tonight," he said, gesturing to a set of tables near the large front windows. "Lisa will be shadowing you, but we want it to look like you're handling things yourself."

Lisa, who I knew was actually Agent Chen, and had been a server for her parents’ restaurant, smiled and nodded.

"The specials are on the board," Saul continued, slipping effortlessly into his role as restaurant owner. "If you have any questions, just ask."

I nodded, trying to appear like any nervous new employee rather than someone waiting for their abuser to appear.

"You've got this," Saul whispered, briefly squeezing my hand when no one could see.

The first hour passed without incident. I fell into a familiar routine. Took orders, delivered plates, and wiped down tables, all while scanning each new customer who entered. Agent Michaels had shown me recent photos of Graham in his uniform, but I knew I would recognize him instantly regardless.

I was refilling water glasses at a four-top when the door chimed.

I didn't need to look up to know—the sudden tension in the air, the almost imperceptible shift in the agents' postures told me everything. But then before I even raised my head the door closed just as fast. I kept on with my job until I went back into the kitchen to collect some bread and Agent Torres grabbed me. “He walked in, saw you, and walked back out,” she nearly snarled in frustration. “He was followed but he’s driven back to his house and gone inside.”

“So this isn’t going to work?” Saul asked, hearing her.

She shook her head. “I doubt he’ll be able to keep away. He was just spooked seeing you.”

I sighed. I’d really hoped it would be all over tonight.

Chris appeared. “Home, then?”

But I shook my head. “No. The agents will warn us, but he may decide to come here again tonight. I need to finish the shift.”

And two hours later because the restaurant was busy I’d managed to put him out of my mind. In fact I was starting to enjoy myself. Saul waylaid me a second time. “You’re a natural,” he said.

“I like seeing people happy,” I said honestly, “and your food makes people happy.”

Not that my feet weren’t killing me by the time the last few customers were finishing.

Agent Chen had pretty much stopped dogging my every step because she realized I knew a lot more about serving than she assumed and it was becoming obvious Graham wasn’t coming back tonight, so she busied herself tying the trash bags then hissed in a breath and sucked her finger.

I rushed over. “What did you do?” And I took the bag off her and pushed her to the office. “Get it cleaned.”

“You don’t go outside,” she warned. I almost rolled my eyes.

Yeah, no. The trash would just stay by the door until someone else took it to the dumpster.

I turned out of the kitchen, and lugged the bag to the back door.

I bent down and let go of the bag, but before I could straighten up, something hard prodded my back and I heard the voice from my nightmares.

“Well, well. Looks like your guard dogs finally took their eyes off you.”

I froze, ice flooding my veins as Graham's voice sliced through me like a knife. The hard object—his gun, I realized—pressed more firmly against my spine.

"Stand up slowly," he ordered, his voice deceptively calm. "No sudden movements."

I straightened, my legs threatening to give way beneath me. The wire under my shirt seemed suddenly obvious, and I prayed he wouldn't search me.

"Graham," I managed, my voice barely a whisper.

"Did you think I wouldn’t find you?" he said, his breath hot against my ear as he moved closer.

My mind raced. The agents were inside. Chris and Saul were inside. I needed to keep him talking, to give them time to realize I was missing. I hadn’t asked if someone was monitoring my recording in real time.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "I'm a cop, Jesse. Finding people is what I do, and you haven’t the brains to work anywhere other than some greasy spoon. I knew you’d surface eventually." His free hand gripped my arm painfully. "And you're mine. You've always been mine."

"I'm not yours," I said, the words escaping before I could stop them, and indignant over his disparagement of Saul’s restaurant.

The gun pressed harder. "You ungrateful little shit. After everything I did for you?"

I swallowed hard, fighting against the panic threatening to overwhelm me. "You kept me in a cage."

"I protected you," he hissed.

Protected me? He was insane.

"Protected me?" I repeated, unable to keep the disbelief from my voice. "You drugged me and locked me up like an animal."

"I saved you," Graham insisted, his voice taking on that eerily reasonable tone I remembered so well. "You were too stupid to understand what the world would do to someone like you. Too naive. I kept you safe."

I had to keep him talking. Every second bought time for the agents or Chris and Saul to realize I was missing.

"By starving me? Hurting me?" My voice shook despite my efforts to control it.

Graham's grip tightened painfully on my arm. "I taught you discipline. Structure. You needed that." His voice dropped lower. "And you're going to need a lot more after this little escape attempt."

My stomach lurched at his words. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

He laughed, the sound chilling in its confidence. "Yes, you are. We're going to walk very calmly to my car. If you make a sound, I'll shoot whoever comes through that door to check on you." The gun pressed harder against my back. "No one can protect you from me."

I thought of Chris and Saul—their gentle touches, their unwavering support, the love they'd shown me. The family we were building together. I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing them again, of leaving them wondering what had happened to me.

“Jesse?” Fear almost paralyzed me. It was Chris in the kitchen. Chris was a big man. Graham would take one look at him and shoot him, and I couldn’t ever let that happen.

"They're going to realize I'm missing," I said quickly, hoping to distract Graham from Chris's voice, and warn Chris. "They'll call the police."

Graham's laugh was cold against my ear. "I am the police, remember? Now move, before we have company."

He started pushing me toward the alley where I assumed his car was parked, the gun never wavering from my back. My mind raced frantically. I couldn't let him take me—not back to that cage, not away from Chris and Saul. Not after I'd finally found where I belonged.

"Jesse?" Chris's voice came again, closer now.

Graham tensed, his arm snaking around my neck as he pulled me against him, the gun now pressing into my ribs. "Not another step," he growled as Chris appeared in the doorway.

Chris froze, his face transforming from concern to cold fury as he took in the scene. "Let him go," he said, his voice deadly calm.

"Back up," Graham ordered. "Or I put a bullet in him right now."

"Graham," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady despite the fear coursing through me, "this isn't going to work. The restaurant is full of FBI agents."

His arm tightened around my neck, making it harder to breathe. "You're lying."

"He's not," Chris said, his hands raised in a placating gesture but his eyes never leaving mine. "They've been watching you for weeks. Everything you said has just been recorded. They know about Thomas Welch and the others."

Graham's body stiffened against mine. "You don't know what you're talking about."

I felt Graham's breathing quicken, his grip becoming more erratic. The gun pressed harder into my ribs, and for a terrible moment, I thought he might actually pull the trigger.

"If I can't have him," Graham hissed, "no one will."

Everything happened at once. I heard shouts from multiple directions as agents converged on the scene.

Graham's attention wavered for just a split second and feeling his arm loosen—I dropped down. Graham, surprised by my sudden movement, didn’t react quickly enough, and his whole body jerked as multiple bullets hit him.

I was yanked into Chris’s massive arms as chaos seemed to surround me. The sound of the gunshots echoed in my ears as agents swarmed around us, their voices blending into a cacophony of shouted orders.

"Jesse!" Saul's panicked voice cut through the chaos as he pushed past the agents, his face pale with fear. "Oh god, Jesse!"

Chris held me tightly against his chest, his heart hammering so hard I could feel it through his shirt. "He's okay," he said, though his voice shook. "He's okay."

I clung to them both, trembling violently as the adrenaline drained from my system. Over Chris's shoulder, I could see Graham's body on the ground, surrounded by agents. The gun he'd held against me lay several feet away, kicked aside by one of the officers.

"I need to check him," Agent Torres said, gently trying to separate me from Chris and Saul.

"No," I said, my voice breaking. "Please, don't let go."

"We're not going anywhere," Saul promised, his arms wrapping around both Chris and me. "We're right here, baby."

I hadn’t realized I was crying until I wondered why Chris’s shirt was wet.