Elena's POV
"I'm going to meet them," I say, and all three men turn to stare at me like I've lost my mind.
Maybe I have. But three women are locked up somewhere, suffering, and I might be the only person who can save them.
"Absolutely not," Daniel says immediately. "It's obviously a trap—"
"Or it's someone who actually wants to help," I interrupt. "Someone who knows what Cameron's doing and wants to stop him."
"By asking you to come alone to a diner?" Marcus shakes his head. "Elena, think about this. Why would someone with real information risk meeting you in public? Why not just go to the police themselves?"
"Maybe they're scared," I argue. "Maybe Cameron has something on them too. Maybe—"
"Maybe it's Cameron himself," Adrian cuts in, his voice hard. "Setting another trap. Splitting us up. Getting you isolated so he can grab you before midnight."
The thought sends ice through my veins. But I can't shake the feeling that this is real. That someone out there is trying to help.
"What if it's legitimate?" I press. "What if those three women are real and we ignore this and they die?"
"What if you go and YOU die?" Daniel counters, his face pale. "Elena, I just found the courage to fight for you. I'm not losing you now because of some anonymous text."
My phone buzzes. Another message from the mystery number: 20 minutes left. Those women don't have much time. Cameron checks on them every night at 9pm. If they're not responsive, he disposes of them. It's 8:42 now. Choose fast. —A friend
"Disposes of them," I whisper, my stomach churning. "He kills them."
"If that's even real," Marcus says, but his voice wavers. He's not sure either.
None of us are.
"We need to split up," Adrian says suddenly. "It's the only way."
"What?" Daniel turns on him. "That's the worst idea—"
"No, listen," Adrian continues. "Marcus and I go to Jenna's apartment. Look for evidence. Meanwhile, Daniel and Elena go to the diner. Safety in numbers. If it's a trap, Daniel's there to help. If it's real, they get the information."
"I can't protect her," Daniel says, and the pain in his voice breaks my heart. "Not in this chair. Not if things get physical."
"You can call the police," Adrian points out. "The moment something feels wrong, you dial 911. We'll be ten minutes away. We can get there fast."
It's a terrible plan. Risky and dangerous and probably stupid.
It's also our only plan.
"Fine," I say before Daniel can argue more. "Adrian and Marcus go to the apartment. Daniel and I go to the diner. We stay in constant contact. Any sign of trouble, we abort."
"Elena—" Daniel starts.
"We're doing this," I say firmly. "We don't have time to debate. It's 8:44 now. We have sixteen minutes."
The men exchange looks. Then, reluctantly, they nod.
Adrian grabs his keys. "Jenna's apartment is on Maple Street. Fifteen minutes from here. Marcus, you ready?"
"Let's go," Marcus says, but he stops in front of me first. His hand cups my cheek, his gray eyes intense. "You stay in public. You keep Daniel close. And if anything—ANYTHING—feels wrong, you run. Understand?"
"I understand," I whisper.
He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead. It's not a kiss. It's a promise. A prayer.
Then he's gone, following Adrian out the door.
Daniel wheels closer, his jaw tight. "Let's go. Stay behind me. I might be in a chair, but I'm still your husband. I'm still supposed to protect you."
We head to the car. Daniel insists on driving—he has special hand controls installed. I climb into the passenger seat, my phone clutched in my sweaty palm.
The drive to Sal's Diner takes nine minutes. Nine minutes of silence so thick I can barely breathe.
When we pull into the parking lot, I scan for threats. For Cameron's face. For anything suspicious.
But the diner looks normal. Old-fashioned neon sign. A few cars in the lot. Through the windows, I see maybe a dozen customers eating and talking.
"It looks safe," I say.
"Looks can lie," Daniel mutters. But he parks anyway, as close to the entrance as possible.
My phone buzzes: Back corner booth. Red jacket. Come alone or I leave. Your husband can watch from the counter. —A friend
I show Daniel the text. His face hardens. "I don't like this."
"I don't either," I admit. "But we're here now."
We get out of the car. Daniel transfers to his wheelchair. Together, we enter the diner.
The smell of grease and coffee hits me immediately. A waitress looks up, smiles automatically. "Sit anywhere you like, hon."
I spot the back corner booth immediately. A figure in a red jacket, face hidden by the high booth back and a baseball cap pulled low.
"I'll be at the counter," Daniel says quietly. "Watching. Scream if you need me."
"I will," I promise.
I walk toward the booth on shaking legs. Every instinct screams at me to turn around. To run. But I keep walking.
I slide into the booth across from the figure in red.
They look up.
And my entire world stops.
Because the face under that baseball cap isn't a stranger.
It's someone I know.
Someone I trusted.
"Hello, Elena," Dr. Sarah Kim says softly. "I'm sorry it had to be this way."
My therapist. The woman I've been confiding in for six months. The woman who knows every secret, every fear, every desperate thought I've ever had.
"Sarah?" My voice comes out strangled. "What are you doing here? How do you know about Cameron?"
Her expression is sad. Guilty. Afraid.
"Because Cameron is my ex-husband," she says. "And I'm the one who told him about you."
The diner spins around me.
"What?" I can barely form words.
"I didn't know what he'd become," Sarah says quickly, her words tumbling out. "When we were married, he was different. But after the divorce, he got involved in terrible things. And when you started therapy with me, when you told me about your arrangement, about Daniel and Adrian and Marcus... I mentioned it to Cameron. Just venting to my ex about a complicated case. I didn't use your name. I was careful."
"But he figured it out," I whisper.
"He figured it out," she confirms, tears in her eyes. "And then he contacted Jenna. Fed her information about your therapy sessions. Manipulated her into bugging your house. I didn't know until yesterday, Elena. I swear. When Jenna's brother Cameron showed up in your story, I realized what I'd done."
Rage and betrayal burn through my shock. "You violated patient confidentiality. You destroyed my life—"
"I'm trying to fix it," Sarah interrupts desperately. "That's why I'm here. I have information. Files from when Cameron and I were married. Evidence of his previous crimes. Women he's trafficked. Bank accounts. Everything we need to put him away for life."
She slides a flash drive across the table.
"This can stop him," she says. "But you need to give it to the police tonight. Before midnight. Before he takes you."
I stare at the flash drive. At my therapist. At the woman who betrayed me and is now trying to save me.
"Why should I trust you?" I ask.
"Because I'm not asking you to," Sarah says. "I'm asking you to trust the evidence. It's real, Elena. All of it. Use it. Save yourself. Save those other women. And maybe... maybe forgive me someday."
I grab the flash drive, my hand shaking.
"There's something else," Sarah adds, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Cameron's not working alone anymore. He has a partner. Someone powerful. Someone who's been helping him stay hidden from the police."
"Who?" I demand.
Sarah glances around nervously. "I don't know the name. But Cameron called him 'The Collector.' And according to Cameron's files, The Collector has been watching you for longer than three weeks. Try three months."
My blood turns to ice. "Three months? But how—"
Sarah's phone buzzes. She looks at it and goes pale.
"He knows," she breathes. "Cameron knows I'm here. I have to go. Elena, run. Get Daniel and run right now—"
The diner's front window explodes inward.
Glass rains down as customers scream. A figure in black crashes through, rolling and coming up in a crouch.
Cameron.
He's holding a gun.
"Nobody move!" he shouts, and the diner goes silent except for sobbing.
His eyes lock on mine across the restaurant. He smiles, cold and cruel.
"Hello, Elena. Thanks for making this so easy."
He points the gun at Daniel's head.
"Here's how this works," Cameron says calmly. "You come with me right now, quietly, or I shoot your crippled husband in front of everyone. Your choice. You have five seconds. Five... four... three..."