Traffic wouldn’t have been an issue at this time of night under normal circumstances. The onslaught of rain and wind made the drive from the airport into the city twice as long though. Time wasn’t a luxury I could afford tonight. I’d had to call Davidson twice to assure him I’d be at the hospital soon. He confirmed someone would be waiting to escort me upstairs.  

 

“How much longer?” I asked the Uber driver.

 

“GPS says ten minutes.” 

 

I nodded, resuming my pensive stare out my window while pressing a palm against my knee to keep it from bouncing. Lightening arced across the night sky, and the roar of thunder drowned out the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. My nerve endings were firing up, twitching with anxiety for what lay ahead. The heartache would soon follow.

 

My phone vibrated with an incoming text from Xavier, jarring me from thoughts of guilt and impending pain. 

 

Xavier: Are you okay? Is everything alright?

 

I’d had to rush out in the middle of a performance after receiving the urgent call from Davidson, leaving Xavier to fill in for me while I raced to catch the short flight home. I hadn’t even stopped at the hotel to change out of my tux and collect my things, or scheduled my usual car service to pick me up at the airport. I should’ve hired an assistant to handle those types of things, but I feared it would make me feel as important as everyone else believed I was. 

 

According to Davidson, a trailer truck was found idling a few miles inside our border. Upon further inspection, border patrol discovered several young Americans inside—bound, gagged, and barely lucid—hidden behind crates stuffed with cargo.   

 

So no, I wasn’t okay, and nothing was right. In all fairness, I hadn’t been okay, and life hadn’t been alright in a very long time. 

 

Xavier knew he’d never get the answer he truly wanted from me, so I ignored him instead of lying, like I ignored everything else in my life in these situations. I was a man determined to burn for his sins. No one could stop me. 

 

“Where should I drop you off?” the driver asked ten minutes later. 

 

Leaning forward, I squinted past the rapid back-and-forth motion of the windshield wipers, reading the signs posted along the hospital’s exterior. “Straight ahead. That building just past the main pavilion.” 

 

He eased the car toward the spot. Two unattended police cruisers were parked, forming a barrier that prevented us from pulling in close to the entrance. 

 

I thanked him then hopped out of the sedan, narrowly avoiding a huge puddle as I jogged for the protection of the building’s portico. 

 

One of the uniformed cops holding court inside the vestibule let me in out of the rain, but wouldn’t permit me to go any further until I’d shown identification. “Tenth floor, east wing,” he said, handing me back my ID and pointing down an empty corridor. “There’s a bank of elevators around that corner.”

 

“Thanks.” I set off at a quick pace in the direction he indicated, as the other officer reported my arrival through his comms unit. 

 

I jabbed at the elevator call button repeatedly, as if doing so would make it come faster. I used the same flawed logic once I stepped inside, pressing the number ten and the ‘door closed’ button simultaneously until the elevator started moving. 

 

This never got any easier. In fact, the heartbreak I experienced with each call seemed to deepen to a point where it felt like the organ in my chest might give out. My mother said it was the empath in me. That I’d never known how to not absorb someone else’s pain. She said it was one of the qualities that made me rare and special. I didn’t see an ounce of good in myself, so I’d had to take her word for it.  

 

Most of the activity on the tenth floor came from the Federal agents and officers positioned around. Some were giving orders, while others were carrying them out. I recognized one of the men as someone Davidson considered a friend. He tipped his head to me, expression grave. I returned the sentiment. Wins like these were always hard to celebrate when they were accompanied by so much devastation. 

 

The squeak of my wet shoes against the linoleum echoed as I trudged to the double doors up ahead. Davidson came into view as I pushed through them.

 

“This way,” he said once I’d caught up to him. “How was your flight?” 

 

“Agonizingly long.” I’d only been airbound for a little over an hour, but it might as well have been days. 

 

“Yeah, well, I appreciate you coming.” He squeezed my shoulder.

 

“Of course.”  

 

Medical staff chatted in hushed tones behind the nurses’ station, combing through what looked like patient charts. Machines hissed and beeped from behind doorways and curtains.  

 

I followed Davidson to a closed room at the end of a hall. He relieved the officer stationed there, motioning for me to look inside once we were alone. I stepped up to the plexiglass window but didn’t look in. Not yet. I needed to gather my strength first.

 

“I would’ve called you sooner, but it’s been non-stop madness ever since.” 

 

“It’s okay. How’d you get them here?” I peered around at the skeleton crew of people.  

 

“We airlifted them here after determining their external injuries were minor.”  

 

“You’ll be moving them all to Safe Haven, I assume.” 

 

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Hopefully, until we can track down their families. Right now they’re being treated for dehydration. The doctors are also running a battery of tests to make sure there aren’t any other health concerns that need immediate attention. They’ll live, though,” he assured me, opting not to say they’d be okay. They’d learn to live with what happened, but they’d never be okay again. 

 

He motioned to the room again, face solemn. “This is the one I told you about over the phone. We can’t get him to cooperate. Wouldn’t let anyone touch him. Whatever he’d been given to make him compliant wore off by the time we arrived here. He turned feral shortly after. Thought you might be able to work your magic.” 

 

Noticing me stalling, looking everywhere but the room on my right, he took on a more fatherly tone. “Living a life in service to others can be hard, but what you’re doing here matters, William. It helps to focus on all the people you’re helping, rather than dwell on the many still out there.”

 

Davidson had it wrong. It wasn’t what I did now that mattered. At least not to my conscience. It would forever be what I didn’t do then that haunted me. I wondered what he’d think if he knew it wasn’t a life of service I lived, but one of penance.

 

When the outside world looked at me, they saw a successful, ambitious man doing good for humanity. They didn’t see the truth beneath the facade. The real me would emerge the moment I entered that room. It always did. My guilt made it difficult to hide from them.   

 

I swallowed hard, nodding before turning to the window. My breath caught in my throat, and without thought for the barrier blocking me, I moved closer, the toe of my shoe grazing the door. 

 

A young man with a shock of jet black curls and pale skin waited inside. I couldn’t see his eyes. They were focused on the wall in front of him. From what I could see of his profile, though, he couldn’t have been any older than his mid-twenties.

 

 His clothes were askew, dirt and dried blood covering the arms of his white shirt. His angular jawline too. I didn’t want to know where the blood came from. 

 

My gaze dropped to his hands. They were handcuffed to the railing of the gurney he was sitting on. “You restrained him? Was that necessary?” My hand flew to the door knob like I could run in and save him. But I knew it would take much more than being free from his restraints to be saved. 

 

“He attacked one of the nurses trying to take his vitals.” Davidson sighed when my head whipped toward him. “He doesn’t want to be touched,” he explained. “They had to sedate him before we could get the cuffs on. He’s still coming around from it.” 

 

“So he’d been drugged by his captors, and then drugged again for trying to protect himself,” I hissed. 

 

“We didn’t want to do it,” Davidson said. “He left us no choice.” 

 

“There’s always a choice.” Turning back to the room, I noted how lifeless and slender he looked. “Is he hurt?”

 

“No. At least not that we can see. The blood isn’t his.” A male nurse walked by then, wearing a bandage over his brow. Davidson gave me a pointed look. 

 

“Has he said anything?” 

 

“No. Other than snarling, he hasn’t said a word.” 

 

“So we don’t know his name, then.” 

 

“Ryan,” Davidson said, and I threw him a questioning look. “A few of the others told us, and he responded to it.”  

 

We both faced Ryan now, contemplating him. Davidson brushed aside the lapels of his department issued windbreaker, sliding his hands in his pants pockets. “And we may not be dealing with captors here. Or at least, it may not be that simple.” 

 

“What do you mean?” I wanted to turn to Davidson, to give him my full attention, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Ryan. I’d promised myself I would remain objective moving forward, not be blinded or guided by my personal demons. Against my will and better judgment though, my heart reached for him. It reached in a way it hadn’t ever done before, and I hadn’t even said a word to him yet. 

 

“The rest of the victims couldn’t give a description of the people who’d transported them here. They’d kept them blindfolded the whole time. From what we’ve gathered, they were abducted and sold some time ago. But they were recently re-sold, then brought here.” He shook his head before adding, “Someone spent a lot of money, and went through a lot of trouble to bring them here, then abandoned them in the middle of the road to be found. The question now is, do we have traffickers on our hands, or vigilantes?” 

 

“Maybe both,” I whispered, knowing what it felt like to have a change of heart. 

 

“The surveillance footage from the border was useless. The men wore hats and sunglasses, and kept their heads angled away from the cameras. They had all the right documentation to get through. We were able to determine the victims were smuggled into Ontario by sea. Canada’s looking into a cargo ship possibly used. All we know right now is that the vessel’s port of origin was somewhere in East Asia. That lines up with the statements we’ve obtained so far.” He nodded toward Ryan. “Other than responding to the sound of his name, he gave us nothing.” 

 

Davidson was a middle-aged, graying man in good shape, both mentally and physically. He’d worked with my organization for years. The fight to put an end to all forms of human trafficking was as important to him as it was to me. I was grateful for him, but he wasn’t as educated about the psyche of someone who’d been trafficked. I, on the other hand, lived and breathed the subject.  

 

“He’s likely been in captivity longer than the others,” I said. “He’s given up hope. His trust would’ve been completely shattered by now. And as horrific as it may sound, he’s likely grown used to what has been done to him. Freedom probably feels more like the enemy now.” 

 

“We can run his prints. See if he pops up in the system,” Davidson suggested. 

 

“No. Treating him like a criminal will only make the situation worse. I’ll see what I can do.”  

 

Davidson’s phone buzzed from somewhere. Pulling it from an inside pocket he glanced at the screen. “I gotta take this. It’s headquarters. I’ll be out here if you need me.” He stepped aside to take the call, his tone all business. I counted out five deep breaths before entering the room. 

 

Ryan’s shoulders stiffened, the only sign that he’d heard me come in. I let the door close gently behind me before taking the few steps needed to put me against the wall he was staring at. His eyes were as black as his hair, just as wild too. The lashes framing them were long and thick. I always asked for details on the survivors before I arrived. He was just as Davidson described over the phone—down to the beauty mark on his cheek. He was striking, and it took me a moment to remember how to breathe. 

 

His sluggish gaze dropped to my shoes then moved upward. The more of me he took in, the more agitated he became. By the time he reached my face, his breathing had become audible. 

 

My size tended to work against me in these situations, but it never took long for their apprehension to recede. Maybe because they sensed I was more broken than they were. 

 

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m not here to hurt you or make you do anything you don’t want to do.” Carefully, I dragged the rolling stool over with my foot before easing onto it, slouching my shoulders to make myself appear smaller, insignificant. Making my outside match the way I felt on the inside. 

 

We were quiet for a while, and in that silence I worked to keep what I felt in my heart from showing on my face. I fought to contain my pain, to hold back the tears that his own pain inspired. I wanted to nurture him, to tell him I was sorry for everything that happened to him, and that it would be better from this point on. I couldn’t do that, though. He wouldn’t have welcomed it, and there were people here who would’ve been confused by my reaction to him.  

 

“My name is… William,” I breathed, hesitating for reasons I didn’t want to contemplate. His lips thinned, cheeks flushing pink with anger, I assumed. I couldn’t blame him. I also couldn’t hold his gaze. 

 

“I’m a music composer. I compose for symphonies, opera, film…” I trailed off, fiddling with the wrinkle creasing my pants. “I used to conduct for the orchestra. Every now and then I still do, but playing will always be my first love.” I chanced a glance up at him, feeling thoughtless. Telling him about all I’d gotten to accomplish in my life while he’d had to endure the horrors of his was the worst idea possible. Even though I would have traded those accomplishments for a chance to bear his burdens in a heartbeat. For an opportunity to have switched places with him. 

 

His eyes bulged, the blood along his jaw a brutal reminder of how cruel the world could be. I cursed inwardly for not demanding the keys to uncuff him. I hated seeing him restrained. 

 

I cleared my throat. “More important to me than all that, though, is my foundation: Freedom Fighters.” I paused for his reaction. The pitch of his breathing no longer threatened to drown out my voice, but his hands still clenched and unclenched in their restraints. 

 

“We work to raise awareness about human trafficking, and we provide resources for those affected by it. There’s a place just outside of the city called Safe Haven. It’s a sanctuary, of sorts, for adult survivors.” Recovered minors were taken into custody by state child agencies until their families were located, but we offered external resources to them as well.  

 

“You’ll have a room of your own there. Counselors to talk to—or not talk to,” I rushed to add when his eyes grew wider with obvious panic. I remembered Davidson said they couldn’t get him to speak. “We’ll help you with everything you need. Most importantly, you’ll be safe there.” 

 

The speed at which his chest rose and fell gradually slowed, but he twisted his already raw wrists within the cuffs as though trying to slip them free. His bones were small enough, and that, coupled with the sight of his desperation made me internally flail with anger on his behalf.  

 

“Please, stop,” I begged, my heart hammering at my rib cage. My fingers curled into the fabric of my pants to stop me from reaching out for him. I should’ve been more put together than this. I shouldn’t have been falling apart at the seams, but seeing Ryan this traumatized did something to me that the others before him hadn’t. I wondered if he could sense that. I wondered if he knew. 

 

His hand stilled, and I closed my eyes in gratitude. 

 

“Will you go to Safe Haven? Agent Davidson can take you. He’s one of the agents who brought you here. He heads the human trafficking division for the FBI. You can trust him.” 

 

Ryan didn’t answer verbally, but the way his fists balled told me his answer was a resounding no. 

 

“Your options are to stay here—I’m sure they can keep you a few days for observation— or… Agent Davidson can take you into custody.” I wasn’t sure if the second option was true. Ryan hadn’t been charged with any crimes. He wasn’t guilty of anything. But maybe Davidson could pull strings to get him into some sort of protective custody. Find him comfortable accommodation. To be honest, I didn’t like any of those ideas. 

 

“You can’t save them all, William.”

 

I shook my head, clearing it of Xavier’s frustrated voice. I didn’t want it to prevent me from making—what he would call—a poor decision. I fought past every red flag that went up in my mind, bulldozing right over my good judgment to speak. “Or you can come home with me.” 

 

***************

​

Davidson wrapped up his call when I exited the room. “Well? Did you get him to agree to Safe Haven? Did he give you information about his family?”

 

I hadn’t even asked about his family. I drew my shoulders back, preparing for his disapproval. “He’s coming home with me. And before you start—”

 

“You can’t keep turning them into charity cases, William.” Now he sounded like Xavier.  

 

“That isn’t how I see them and you know it. But this is different from the handful of other times.”

 

“How fucking so?” 

 

“It just is,” I argued. 

 

“Did you forget what happened the last time?” 

 

“I’ll be careful. I’ll reach out for help at the first sign that I’m in over my head.” I hadn’t done that with Jacob—the last survivor I’d allowed to stay at my place while Davidson worked on tracking down his family. I had a three inch scar on my shoulder to show for it. 

 

“The sign is right there in the room behind you,” he said, jabbing a finger at Ryan’s hospital room door. “He had to be sedated and restrained,” he reminded me. He was worried about me. Worried about Ryan, worried about them all. The ones found—dead or alive—and the countless others still missing. The ones taken on foreign soil, and the thousands being trafficked through coercion and other unsavory means right here in our own backyard. 

 

I couldn’t be moved, though. Not about this. Not this time. Davidson sighed, turning in place with his hands on his hips. 

 

“Did he say he wanted to go with you?” 

 

“He didn’t not say it. But he didn’t react to it as terrified as he did the other options.”

 

“I’ll find him someplace to stay until we can get him to agree to Safe Haven. We’ll search the missing persons database. Find his family. Maybe we can—” 

 

“He won’t go with you,” I said, speaking over him. I glanced back to see Ryan staring blankly at the wall again. “Just give me a few days. My building is secure. He’ll see that he’s safe. He’ll…open up. They always do.” 

 

He couldn’t argue with me on that front. Jacob had been mortified by what he’d done to me while in the throes of a nightmare. Soon after, he’d agreed to go to Safe Haven until his family arrived. The outcome had been worth the lingering scar.

 

 “Fuck it,” he said sounding exhausted, looking at his watch. “Okay. I’ve officially been awake for twenty-four hours. If anyone asks, I’ll blame it on being sleep deprived. I gotta wrap a few things up. I’ll get you two an escort home. And answer your phone when I call to check on you in the morning,” he warned, before striding off and speaking into his comms unit.   

 

It took Davidson notifying Ryan of his options to get him moving. He hadn’t said it unkindly, but I still leveled him with a scowl after Ryan went into the en suite bathroom to change out of his grimy clothes into a pair of scrubs. I was already protective of him.  

 

He crept out of the bathroom, leery and shivering. I removed my tuxedo blazer, laying it across the gurney before returning to my spot near the door. 

 

“Please, wear it. It’ll keep you warm until we get outside.” I slipped into the hall and closed the door when he didn’t move. Maybe some privacy would make him more amenable to wearing it. He emerged with it draped across his shoulders. 

 

We rode in the backseat of an unmarked car. Ryan pressed his body against his door to create as much space as possible between us. The roads were still clear of traffic, but the sound of the windshield wipers going, the occasional horn honking, or the tires hydroplaning over puddles, caused Ryan to flinch in his seat. The cacophony of the weather outside felt almost akin to the emotional storm brewing inside the car. When he wasn’t leaping out of his skin, his teeth chattered despite the muggy summer night. Was it from shock? Or fear? The agent had been kind enough to turn the heat on, causing the interior to swelter. 

 

We pulled up in front of my place in record time. When Ryan glanced up at the luxury highrise, I felt the odd need to explain why I would live here. “It came with a recording studio. The previous owner was a musician. Enables me to do much of my work from home.” Embarrassment and shame formed a knot in my stomach. I lived like this, while he, and others like him, were out there fighting to survive terrible circumstances. 

 

How did I explain to him that I filled my life with meaningless things in an attempt to fill the gaping hole inside me? How did I tell him that nothing ever worked, that I was less than empty inside? Would he even care? 

 

“It doesn’t make me happy,” I said when he just stared at me. “None of it.” 

 

I got out first, circling to his side and holding the umbrella open for him to step under. He refused, as though it would put us too close to each other. 

 

Once inside the lobby, I considered introducing him to the security guard stationed near the revolving doors, since he was one of many responsible for keeping the building safe. I thought better of it. Overwhelming Ryan with new people right then wouldn’t have been wise.

 

 Instead, I pointed him out, letting Ryan know there was always someone on post. 

 

“No one is allowed past the lobby without identification and approval.” I gestured to the concierge desk where visitors checked in as we made our way to my personal elevator. “And there are cameras everywhere.” 

 

Ryan simply looked at the floor as if in a daze. His movements were listless, and he seemed on the verge of collapsing from sheer fatigue. I dug my nails into my palms to keep from reaching out to him, to stop myself from scooping him into my arms and carrying him the rest of the way.   

 

We stood in front of my open apartment door while he assessed the interior hallway, deciding if he felt safe enough to step inside. “This is the only apartment on this floor.” It was technically a duplex. “So you don’t need to worry about other residents or their visitors roaming around up here. You need a code to ride the elevator up, and I’m the only one with that code.” I let that sink in. “I can send the elevator down to anyone visiting using an app on my phone, but only after the concierge has seen their identification and contacted me. I give my code to no one,” I assured him. 

 

I never had many visitors anyway. I didn’t even employ household staff, preferring to handle my chores myself. It kept me humble.

 

Ryan crossed his arms, a clear defensive movement, my blazer swallowing him. 

 

“We go in once you’re ready. Not a moment sooner. And if you’re not comfortable with this arrangement anymore, just say the word. We’ll figure something else out.” What that something else would be I had no clue, but what he needed came first. 

 

Taking an unsteady breath, Ryan hesitated with one foot over the threshold before physically forcing himself over it. 

 

“Breathe,” I instructed when he leaned against the wall, wheezing. “It’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

 

Ryan’s gaze turned sharp on me. I replayed my words, guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders. I didn’t know the particulars, but something had already happened to him. Something tragic and unfair. 

 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, wondering if he knew my apology held weight, that it wasn’t just some platitude offered because it fit the moment. I was sorry for what happened to him. My sorrow ate away at my core.  

 

I made a show of bolting the door and activating the alarm system. If the added security helped with the anxiety of being in a strange place, he didn’t show it. But just in case it made him feel trapped, I walked him through how to disarm it. He’d never be a prisoner again. 

 

He struggled to keep his eyes open, so while I wanted to prove that nothing sinister lurked here, the full tour would have to wait. I showed him to one of the guest rooms. 

 

The room was spacious but the decor sparse to minimize the high stress levels that came with chaos and clutter. The furnishings were done in earth tones. Unlike the white walls throughout the rest of the apartment, the walls in this room were painted gray—like the color of storm clouds on a rainy day. 

 

Ryan smoothed a trembling hand over the wall, looking over every inch of it. Did he hate the color? Did it mean something to him? My mouth went dry as I waited for the answer. Noticing my gaze on him, he snatched his hand away, his expression turning to steel. 

 

I closed the drapes of the floor to ceiling windows in case the view of the city overwhelmed him. The whole apartment was encased in glass with panoramic views of the city.

 

“You have your own bathroom through there.” I pointed toward the door adjacent from the four-poster bed. “It’s fully stocked. And you can find clothes that should fit you in here.” I headed for the walk-in closet. 

 

A few minutes passed where I thought he wouldn’t come into the closet, but then his head poked in, his gaze traveling the carpeted space before he fully crept inside. His childlike hesitancy tugged at me. 

 

Opening the top drawer of the closet island, I withdrew a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. This had been the first stop for others like him before transitioning to Safe Haven, so I made sure to keep a few items on hand. “We can order you some more things tomorrow.” 

 

Ryan ignored me, drifting back into the bedroom with me not far behind. He pressed his fingers into the mattress, as though testing its softness, before tentatively sitting down then curling onto his side. He let out a long breath, his blinks slowing more and more with each one. 

 

I wanted to help him out of his shoes, to insist he change into something more comfortable before tucking him under the blanket he lay on. I didn’t though. However thoughtful, those actions would have reversed any progress we’d made. I had to remember that space would be my best ally right now. I’d need to fight against my urge to hover. 

 

“My room is down the hall,” I said from the doorway. His eyes opened, letting me know he’d heard me, but he kept them fixed straight ahead instead of focusing them on me. “I’ll leave my door open in case you need me.” 

 

I waited until he fell asleep before venturing to my bathroom to shower the day off me. Afterward, I slipped into my own pair of sweats and a t-shirt then set my phone on the charger. I pulled the covers back, but I couldn’t get into bed, not before checking on Ryan one last time. 

 

Taking my inspiration from him, I slowly poked my head in first, then entered fully with my heart in my throat. The pillows and blanket were scattered on the floor. My jacket had been discarded there too. The sheets were torn to shreds in certain places, and Ryan was nowhere in sight. 

 

I rushed for the open closet door, coming to a halt once the other side of the bed came into view. What I saw made my knees waver. 

 

Ryan was sleeping on the floor with two strips of bedding tied to his wrists like manacles. I noticed now that the ends were secured to one of the bedposts. He’d created chains and shackles for himself. He looked comfortable in a way that anyone would when doing something they were used to, even if they hated it. Like it was the one familiar thing in his new world. 

 

I backed away, bile and horror rising inside of me. Once back in my room, I let the door close softly before slumping against it and sliding to the floor. My head and my heart ached, and my already fractured spirit splintered a bit more. 

 

Anguish consumed me, and suddenly I resented the bed I’d been about to sleep in a few minutes ago. How dare I? 

 

I got to my feet once the shaking subsided, cracking the bedroom door open before dragging myself over to the bed. One by one, I dumped my blanket and pillows onto the floor—then thought better of it. They were too soft. I needed to suffer like they had. Like he had. 

 

Laying down on the hardwood floor, I drew my knees up like Ryan had. I fell asleep vowing to help as many survivors as I could, but especially Ryan, because he was different. 

 

“You say that about all of them.” Xavier’s voice filled in my head again. 

 

I didn’t listen to it. I refused to. I’d stay the course, like always. Maybe this time I’d get it right. Maybe this time I’d earn the one thing I always wanted. Maybe helping Ryan would finally make me worthy of redemption. ​​​

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