It wasn’t a supply room that he had me in—it was a crowded back office to the nightclub. Papers, books, and file cabinets filled the room that was already small and claustrophobic on its own.

My brain was alive, with a storm of synapses firing at once. All of my senses were on overdrive as I, even on a biological level, tried to piece together what was going on around me.

Never in my life had I gone from being a stumbling drunk to feeling relatively sober in such a short amount of time.

The man was glowering down at me, his dark eyes intense and terrifying. Fight or flight kicked in, and, much to my surprise, I chose to fight.

I twisted and turned my arms, trying to get them free as my feet worked to try and step on his boots. When I managed to pull one arm free, I swung back and started toward his face in a punch. He caught my wrist.

"Settle down," he hissed at me.

"F*ck you!" I spat.

We continued our little dance for control. I wasn’t able to get my hands back once he gripped my wrists. My attempts to kick or step on him were dodged. Then, much to my horror, he pinned me back against a file cabinet.

I tried more and more to squirm, to get away, to make him let me go, but nothing was working. I could feel my body getting exhausted just from my efforts. Nothing I was doing was good enough. I was helpless.

It felt like life was falling in on me. This was it. I had played myself. I made one too many missteps that day, and I was going to pay for it with my life.

What a stupid little girl I turned out to be. I was a sheltered and naive little thing to think I could have it all. To think I could cut loose as though I was just like anyone else in attendance. I wasn’t. I had been the daughter of a Macalaster, sold like property, and had a target on my head because I was seeing to it that the men who did such things were brought to justice.

I wasn’t righteous and I wasn’t perfect. I was a stupid little girl who thought she was playing checkers, but the game at play was chess.

Fighting back against that man was futile. As much as I didn’t want to cry, I felt a sob building in my chest and so quickly, I erupted into tears. Droplets bubbled from my eyes, and incoherent words spilled from my lips. There was nothing left for me to do but beg a God I wasn’t sure I ever believed in for mercy and forgiveness. That He might protect my husband and guide Roman to forgive me for being so silly and selfish to go out like I did.

I couldn’t imagine the heartache I was causing him.

Just as I began to make my peace with the higher powers, the door flung open. I looked up with my blurry eyes to see the very familiar shape of Kristen. My heart was seized with a mixture of selfish relief that I was no longer alone with that man, but also wanting her to run away so no harm came to her because of me. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

"What in the hell do you think you’re doing?" she hissed at the man. "Look at what you’re doing to her! She’s shaking like a leaf! Is this really how you treat past victims?"

"Oh, shut your mouth," the man replied with a huff.

"I won’t," Kristen barked, stomping over. She slapped his arm, almost like you would a sibling or disobedient child. "Let go of her. You look like you’re about to bruise her."

"It’d be her fault," the man replied with a rolling of his eyes. "She’s the one that was trying to punch me and kick me."

"Well you shoved her in here like you were gonna mug her," Kristen huffed.

I felt so dizzied and confused by the conflicting emotions and the scene playing out in front of me that I couldn’t make sense of any of it.

"Wh-what..." I stammered. "What the hell is going on?!"

Kristen stepped forward and raised her hands to me. "Sorry for the scare, sweetie. Rex is a good guy—he’s just a bit rough around the edges."

"Who the hell is he?!" I demanded, my tears drying up as my fear turned to anger.

"Can you let her go now, Rex?" Kristen snapped.

Then, the guy let me go. I wrung my own wrists, stretching them to undo the ache he had put on them. He gave me a look that let me know that, if I did anything hairy, he would grab me back up immediately. My eyes darted between the two of them before moving to stand closer to Kristen. although it was deeply suspicious that she had anything to do with a man that would treat me like that.

"Now can you clue me in?" I asked her.

Kristen sighed and touched my arm comfortingly. "Hannah, this is Rex. He’s an ally, okay? He used to be a criminal, yeah, but he’s turned things around and used that experience to start a... unique private investigation business. It’s pretty off the books and marginal."

"What exactly does that mean?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"It means I’m the Batman for streetwalkers," Rex interjected.

I cocked a brow at him before turning the look to Kristen.

She only nodded in agreement. "He’s a bit of a... vigilante. He doesn’t only catch the traffickers and free the sex workers, but he gets vengeance for the women like me." Kristen looked over to Rex, and her expression of annoyance grew a little softer and a little fonder. "We’ve helped each other out before. Trust me when I say he’s a good guy."

It was a little much for me to wrap my head around, but I was doing my best at being understanding and taking her at her word. I had no real reason not to trust her. I knew that she was passionate about taking down the Auction House even more than I was. It had just been an overwhelming day, and I was suddenly exhausted.

"Okay, good guy," I stated, turning to address the man head on. "Why is it exactly you’ve decided to lure me into a corner and shove me into a room?"

"I’ve got news," Rex frowned. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and kicked his boot as if there were rocks or dirt there. "I received word there’s a hit out on you and Roman."

I shuffled uncomfortably, knowing how it must look that I was out like that. "I am aware."

"No, you aren’t," Rex said in rebuttal and moved in closer. "There aren’t just a couple of pissed off traffickers with their eyes on you. No. They’ve put an open contract out on you. Do you know what that means?"

I shook my head no as a lump formed in my throat.

"It means that any criminal, any shady individual, or even closeted violent-types that are within their circle, and their circles’ circle, are going to be looking for you. Whoever gets the confirmed kill gets prize money."

My hand flew to my mouth and clasped it, doing my best not to make a sound of shock or horror.

I had never even considered that a possibility. I was so shocked and anxious I could have thrown up. Or maybe that was the countless cocktails and shots swimming in my stomach.

No, it was definitely my nerves.

"I need to call Roman," I muttered.

Kristen dug into her purse and fetched my phone for me. My stomach flipped again to see a screen filled with missed calls and texts from Roman. I didn’t bother opening any of them before I pressed the call back button and raised it to my face.

"Where are you? Are you okay?" he asked in a rushed voice, the phone only having rung once before he answered.

"I’m out with Kristen. I’m so sorry," I breathed. "I can explain later. I promise. Though, I know there is no excuse... Just.. Just... Are you safe?"

"Yes, I am," Roman replied. "What club are you at?"

"Proximity," I muttered. "Roman, we think there’s an open contract on us."

"I know. That’s why I’ve been trying to call," he said.

"I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know," I whispered, my lip beginning to tremble.

"It’s fine. We can sort that later. All that matters right now is we get you home."

"Promise me you’re safe," I said a final time, some part of my brain unable to accept the fact he was really at home and safe.

"I’m safe, Hannah,"" Roman said. "I need to know you’re safe, too. I’m sending someone to bring you home."

My eyes went to Rex. "I think I have someone."