Gunfire and shouting filled Logan's ears as he assaulted the hideout, a two story monstrosity of a house where he had tracked you to. A one man army, his eyes were hard as he moved, clearing each room with an efficiency that would've made his father proud. Only this wasn't Ghost business. This was personal.

Three weeks, five days, and sixteen hours. That's how long they had you and the number of pounds of flesh he aimed to extract from each and every soul responsible for your kidnapping.

Far too soon–or maybe too long–after firing the first shot, Logan stood panting and sweating in front of the last unchecked door. It was padlocked from the outside and he hoped you were there and alone. One swift kick later revealed a sight that shattered his heart. There you were, curled in the corner of the room; a shivering, shaking mess of the beautiful person he knew.