The warehouse was a blur of flashing lights and chaos, but Derek saw only one thing: her lifeless form slumped against the chair. Blood stained her temple, her wrists red and raw against the ropes.

“Move!” Derek barked, shoving past his team. His knees hit the concrete as he reached her, trembling hands gently cupping her face. "Baby, come on. Stay with me," he whispered, his voice breaking as he checked for a pulse. Relief flooded through him when he felt the faint thrum under his fingertips.

“She’s alive!” he shouted over his shoulder, though his focus never left her.

Rossi placed a steadying hand on Derek’s shoulder. “We need to get her out of here. The medics are on their way.”

Derek didn’t wait. With painstaking care, he cut the ropes binding her and scooped her into his arms, her head lolling against his chest. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, his jaw clenched, trying to keep the rising tide of anger and grief from overtaking him.

As he carried her toward the waiting ambulance, he couldn’t stop staring at her face, pale and too still. "You fight, baby," he muttered, his voice low and commanding. "You hear me? You don’t give up. Not on me."

The paramedics moved to take her from him, but Derek hesitated, his grip tightening. It took Rossi’s gentle nudge to remind him they needed to work. Reluctantly, he laid her down on the gurney, brushing a kiss against her blood-matted hair.

“I’m right here,” he promised as he climbed into the ambulance after her. His hand found hers, holding tight as the doors shut behind them. His voice dropped to a whisper, raw and filled with determination. "I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever."