TIES THAT BIND, Jay Halstead

009.

The tension in the BAU office was palpable. Every agent was on edge, their nerves frayed from the growing uncertainty. It had been an hour since Jay and Alba had gone to check out the barn, but there had been no word from them. No radio call. No message. Nothing. It was unlike them, especially after the events of the past few days. They had always kept in contact, no matter how dangerous the situation.

Hotch paced back and forth, his jaw clenched tight, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. His mind kept returning to the eerie silence that had followed their departure. Something was off.

"Call them again," Hotch ordered, his voice strained.

Garcia immediately began typing furiously at her computer, trying to ping their last known location. Her fingers flew over the keys, but the frustration was evident in her eyes. She could feel the panic rising in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. "I’ve already tried multiple times, Hotch. No response. Nothing."

Derek stood at the edge of the room, his arms crossed, staring at the screen in disbelief. "This isn’t right. They should’ve checked in by now. Something’s happened."

"Hotch, we need to go," Spencer said, his voice low but urgent. "We need to find them now."

Hotch nodded, his jaw tight. "Everyone, gear up. We’re heading to the barn."

The drive to the barn felt like an eternity. The team arrived in record time, the sound of their sirens piercing the still night air. They rushed out of the vehicles, guns drawn, eyes scanning the area for any sign of their missing agents.

The barn stood in the distance, dark and ominous under the night sky. As they neared the entrance, the smell of blood hit them first. It was thick, acrid, and unmistakable.

"Jesus Christ," Derek muttered under his breath, his stomach turning.

The door to the barn was ajar, and as they stepped inside, the sight that greeted them was enough to stop them in their tracks.

A pool of blood lay in the center of the floor, dark and sticky, glistening in the dim light. The floor around it was disturbed, as if someone had been dragged. The radios and vests that Jay and Alba had been wearing lay discarded on the floor, abandoned, as if they had been ripped off in a hurry.

They all froze, the air thick with tension. Hotch motioned for the team to start securing the area, but there was no denying it. Something had gone horribly wrong. The drag marks on the floor were clear—someone had been pulled, violently, across the barn.

As the forensic team began to work, Garcia’s voice cracked over the phone. "Hotch… the blood samples results will be ready soon. I’ll know more soon."

"Good. Keep us updated," Hotch said, trying to keep the calm in his voice, but the panic was creeping in. Every second was a reminder of how close they were to losing two of their own.

The team continued their work, searching for any clues that might lead them to Jay and Alba. But nothing was adding up. The drag marks on the floor were disturbing, the trail leading outside the barn. It was clear that someone had been pulled away but to where?