Rafe’s been looking everywhere for you. He knew they’d take you; he risked that when he got too close to you. But it didn’t make him any less angry knowing someone might have hurt you to hurt him.

When he sees you across the room, hands bound to the wooden chair with your split lip and bruises highlighted by the single over head light. Rage fills him.

“Hey,” he calls out to you. “Eyes on me.” He’s going to get you out of here.