Fractured Edges

The plan was solid.

Emily would pose as a federal prosecutor working late, walking the same path the unsub's victims had taken. The team would be positioned nearby, ready to intercept the moment he made a move.

But Hotch still hated it.

He had been against it from the start. But Emily had made her case, and for once, he hadn't had a good enough reason to say no—at least not one he could say out loud.

So now, he watched from the surveillance van, his jaw clenched so tight it ached, his eyes locked on the grainy monitor showing Emily's figure moving through the dark.

"Relax, Hotch," Morgan murmured beside him. "She's got this."

Hotch didn't respond.

Because he knew Emily could handle herself.

But that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that he had too much to lose.

Emily adjusted her posture, keeping her pace steady as she walked toward the parking garage.

She felt the weight of the wire beneath her jacket, the comforting pressure of the gun at her hip.

She knew the team was watching.

But that didn't stop the chill from creeping up her spine.

Something felt off.

She reached her car, pretending to fumble for her keys. A second passed. Then another.

Nothing.

Her heart hammered.

She could feel it—like eyes on the back of her neck.

And then—

A shadow moved.

"I've got movement," she murmured under her breath.

Before anyone could respond, he was there.

A hand closed over her mouth.

Another wrapped around her waist.

And then—

Darkness.

"Prentiss?"

Hotch's blood ran cold.

The van was silent—the kind of silence that only meant one thing.

Then Garcia's voice crackled through the comms, panicked. "I just lost her signal!"

Hotch didn't think.

He shoved the door open and ran.

Morgan and JJ were on his heels, but he didn't care. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.

They rounded the corner just in time to see Emily's phone on the pavement, the screen cracked, her wire torn from her jacket.

She was gone.

Hotch's breath came in short, sharp bursts. His vision tunneled.

This wasn't happening.

Not her.

Not Emily.

Morgan swore under his breath. "We'll find her, Hotch."

Hotch barely heard him.

Because his hands were shaking. His chest ached.

And for the first time in years, he felt something dangerously close to fear.

If he lost her—

No.

He would find her.

And when he did, God help the bastard who took her.