15. BLAKE
Chapter fifteen
BLAKE
B lake scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as he took in the opulent surroundings.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and walls were adorned with expensive paintings. Tables were decked out with elegant tablecloths and centerpieces made of rare orchids under glass. Expensive jewelry sparkled under the bright lights and the air was heavy with the scent of perfume and expensive colognes. There was another smell, too, something more unsavory; money and power. The soft sounds of classical music played in the background, mixed with the low murmur of conversations and clinking glasses.
It was absolutely, one-hundred percent, not Blake’s scene.
"Quite the event, huh?" Jax said, adjusting his cufflinks. His brother's hacking skills had gotten them through the door, but now they needed to blend in.
"Let’s get this over with," Blake responded gruffly.
"No funny business tonight, guys. Stick to the plan. Keep it clean," Nash hissed, serious as ever.
Blake nodded, glancing down at his tux. He and his brothers scrubbed up well. Their tuxedos were crisp, their appearances immaculate. Despite the sophistication, beneath the tailored suits beat the hearts of warriors ready for battle.
He turned his attention back to the crowd. Amidst the sea of tuxedos and designer gowns, Alderman Anderson stood out like a sore thumb. Somehow, he managed to shine brighter than everyone else, including the mayor himself. He was like a peacock in a flock of pigeons, his plumage of wealth and power almost overbearing. His pristine white hair was slicked back and his piercing blue eyes seemed to size up everyone he looked at. There was a cunning gleam in his eye, and there was definitely something off about the way he whispered to other high-profile guests, exchanging discreet nods and fleeting glances. Blake couldn’t wait to bring the fucker down.
"See that?" Blake muttered to his brothers, not taking his eyes off Anderson. “The way he works the room. It’s not right.”
"Yep," Jax said, following Blake's gaze. "Sneaky bastard."
"Keep your distance," Blake warned. "Let's see what he's up to."
They switched on their earpieces as they shot into action. While Jax and Blake moved through the crowd, observing every tiny detail around them, Nash kept an eye on the cops. He knew a few of them as a former DEA agent, but he’d anticipated that ahead of time and had shaved his head to a buzz cut and wore thick glasses. He’s also worked out a ton since leaving law enforcement so was barely recognizable. If anyone did recognize him, though, he was going to admit to being here for reasons of “private security.”
Blake's military background kicked in as he observed Anderson from afar, analyzing every detail of his behavior. Meanwhile, Jax listened for names or personal details that would enable him to steal someone’s identity for the night. What they needed, more than anything, was behind-the-scenes access.
Blake moved close enough to the alderman to hear him talking to two businessmen in gray suits. “Gentlemen, I assure you, the vases you are contemplating are exquisite and rare finds,” he drawled. “Please bid generously. Don’t forget it’s all going to charity.”
Blake clenched his jaw. The children’s charity had been set up by the alderman, and having accessed their accounts, Jax was almost certain that it was a front for money laundering.
The two businessmen nodded eagerly, their eyes gleaming with avarice. “We trust your judgment, Alderman. We will make sure they find new homes where their beauty will be truly appreciated.”
The clink of champagne glasses rang in Blake's ears as he scanned the room, his heart pounding in his chest. He spotted Jax across the gala, giving him a subtle nod. It was time to make their move.
"Got us a way in," Jax whispered into his earpiece as he approached Blake. "Meet me by the east entrance."
"Copy that," Blake replied, his voice low and resolute.
The brothers reconvened at the designated spot, far from prying eyes. Jax held up a barcode for a key card on his phone. His expert hacking skills had paid off once again.
“I’m not even gonna ask how you got that so fast,” said Blake.
“Good work, bro,” said Nash.
As Jax scanned the barcode and they entered the restricted area, Blake couldn't help but think of Savannah. What was she up to right now? He hoped she wasn’t worried about him. He hoped he’d get back to her in one piece tonight.
But first, he had to find proof of Anderson's involvement. He owed it to Savannah and all the other women who’d suffered in the city.
They entered a dimly lit hallway. Nash had shown them a map of City Halls before coming here, so they knew that they were close to Anderson's private office.
"Stay sharp," Blake cautioned as they entered, closing the door behind them.
“I’ll keep an eye out at the door,” said Nash. “There’s at least three cops at this event I don’t like the look of.”
The office was lavish and ostentatious, much like the rest of the gala. An American flag hung over the desk, and there was a cabinet displaying various trophies along the wall. Beneath the room’s polished exterior, Blake knew it housed secrets they were desperate to uncover.
"Start with the computer," he directed Jax, who immediately set to work hacking into the system.
Meanwhile, Blake rifled through drawers, searching for anything incriminating.
"Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath as he came across a stack of files simply marked “Private.” Flipping through them, he couldn’t believe it. He’d found exactly what they'd been searching for: the logs detailed immigrant numbers, names of girls, and mysterious transactions. “I expect the mayor will be very interested to see this.”
"Jackpot," Jax announced from the computer, confirming Blake's discovery. "Anderson's dirty money is all over this."
"Good," Blake said, his voice laced with anger. He snapped photos of the files with his phone, ensuring they had evidence to expose Anderson. "We need to get out of here and bring this bastard down."
"Right behind you," Jax agreed, wiping the computer clean of their intrusion.
“Good work,” said Nash as they emerged from the office. Blake could see a line of sweat on Nash’s brow. As the brains behind this operation, he took a lot of responsibility for its success.
As they made their way back toward the gala, cold determination settled over Blake. They now had the proof they needed to take Anderson down and save people like Chloe and Mia. There was no turning back; it was time for justice to be served.
The muted hum of the gala grew louder as Blake led Jax and Nash out of Anderson's office, their damning evidence secure. As they neared the main event floor, he caught snippets of a hushed conversation between two well-dressed men.
"Vases," one murmured. "You won't believe the quality."
"Really?" the other inquired, raising an eyebrow. "When's the auction start?"
"Soon. Follow me."
"Vases." The word sent a chill down Blake's spine. Why did people keep talking about vases like that? Since when did a bunch of high-profile businessmen give so much of a shit about fucking vases? He needed to see this auction for himself.
Blake locked eyes with Jax and Nash, inclining his head toward the men. They understood immediately, falling into step behind him as they pursued the voices.
They slipped into a side room, where a small stage had been set up, surrounded by plush, red velvet chairs, almost throne-like in appearance. A crowd gathered, anticipation palpable. The auctioneer stepped onto the stage.
"Welcome to tonight's exclusive auction," the man began, smiling broadly. "Our vases are one-of-a-kind, each hand-selected for your discerning taste."
One by one, scantily-clad girls paraded on stage holding expensive, but rather boring-looking vases. Their vacant, glazed eyes stared blankly ahead.
Blake's heart clenched in horror. It was obvious to him now, that it wasn’t the vases that were being sold at all. It was the girls.
"Jesus," Nash muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. "I think these girls are on drugs. Probably been given a low dose of GHB. That’s what’s making them so compliant."
Blake’s face paled. "They're barely older than kids."
“See the heavy make-up they’re wearing?” Nash whispered. “I’ll bet it’s hiding bruises.”
Blake’s mind raced, trying to figure out the best way to save these girls without blowing their cover. "We need to get them out of here."
As the bidding began, fury coursed through Blake's veins. Blood pounded in his ears, drowning out the murmur of the bidders around him. He scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of compassion or humanity, but found only leering eyes and greedy grins. Fuck. He couldn't stand by and watch these girls be sold like chattel. But he had to be smart—he owed it to them, to Savannah, to his sister Chloe.
"Jax, can you get anything on the bidders?" he asked, barely able to look away from the nightmarish scene unfolding before him.
"I'm on it," Jax murmured, discreetly tapping into the auction system with his phone.
"Nash, I need you to find us a way out as soon as we've got what we need."
"Already on it," Nash confirmed, scanning the room for potential escape routes.
As each girl stepped forward, Blake took note of their faces, committing them to memory. He would find a way to bring them all home, even if it killed him.
Then, one girl caught his eye in particular, and his gut twisted in recognition. It was her—Sadie. The woman who had come to the Haven to tell him and Savannah about her kidnap. Shit. The poor thing had been so scared of getting caught again.
"We're going to burn this whole thing to the ground," Blake muttered through gritted teeth.
"Five thousand for this lovely vase. Very smooth and freshly made, this one. A rare, natural beauty. Do I hear six?" the auctioneer called out, his tone sickeningly jovial.
Alderman Anderson stood nearby, sipping champagne and chatting casually with potential buyers. The casual disregard for human life turned Blake's stomach. He clenched his jaw, his eyes scanning the room as he moved around the crowd, capturing discreet footage on his phone.
"Seven thousand!" a bidder shouted, raising his paddle in the air.
"Sold! A fine addition to your collection," the auctioneer declared with a twisted smile.
Anderson's laughter grated on Blake's nerves, fueling his anger. He edged closer to the alderman, catching snippets of conversation about the girls' backgrounds and prices.
"Where did you find this one? It’s exquisite," a bidder asked, eyeing one of the girls hungrily.
"Eastern Europe. The vase will be worth every penny, I’m sure," Anderson replied, smirking.
"Can't wait to put it in my bedroom," the man said, drawing another round of laughter from the group.
As he retreated into the throng of bidders, his gaze fell upon a familiar face—a police officer who had been utterly useless when Chloe went missing. They had always suspected the officer was being purposefully unhelpful. Now, Blake was almost certain.
The cop locked eyes with him before quickly looking away, confirming Blake's suspicions of corruption within the force.
"Nash," he muttered into his earpiece, maintaining a neutral expression. "Over by the exit. Blue suit. It’s Officer Shitstain."
"Copy that," Nash replied, his voice tight with restrained fury.
Nash's nod made it clear they were on the same page. They had their evidence, but now they needed an escape plan—and fast. The girls' lives depended on it.
“Time to go,” said Damian. “North wall, under the clock.”
Blake turned to go, but his eyes tracked Alderman Anderson through the crowd, watching as he slipped away toward a secluded corner. Heart pounding, adrenaline surging, he found himself following.
He couldn’t ignore this opportunity.
"Where are you going, man?" Nash asked into the earpiece, his voice low and dangerous.
"Abort plan. Let’s follow him," Jax said, bringing up the rear.
Blake took a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation. The alderman looked up from his phone, surprise flickering across his face. “Can I help you?” he asked. “Are you interested in a vase tonight, sir?”
"Cut the bullshit," Blake growled, stepping forward and shoving the damning video evidence in Anderson's face. "We know about the trafficking ring. Release the girls and expose everyone involved, or we'll make sure you never see the light of day again."
Anderson eyed the footage disdainfully, a sneer twisting his lips. "I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“We have proof. Tons of it.”
“You think this video is enough to take me down?" He laughed mockingly, clearly underestimating the tenacity of the brothers. "You've got nothing."
"Think again, asshole," Jax interjected, holding up a flash drive. "We've got everything we need right here—names, accounts, transactions. You're finished."
The alderman paled slightly at that.
Nash grabbed Blake’s shoulder, pulling him back. “What are you doing? You’re jeopardizing everything.”
“I want this fucker to know how sick he is,” said Blake. “I can’t leave tonight without letting him know it’s all over.”
Blake could see the panic flicker in Alderman Anderson's eyes before he hid it behind a mask of arrogance. “You’re a nobody,” said the alderman with a strained laugh. “A nobody who has just hit the self-destruct button.” He lifted a hand, about to call over security no doubt, but Blake stepped closer, towering over the man with a cold fury that made Anderson flinch.
"Listen carefully," Blake said, his voice low and menacing. "You will release those girls this fucking instant. Or I swear to god, I'll make you wish you were never born."
"Ha! You're bluffing," Anderson spat, his bravado returning. "You've got no idea who you're dealing with." He laughed again, cruel and self-important.
The laughter echoing in Blake's ears was the breaking point. He clenched his fist, muscles tensing, and swung with all his might, landing a solid punch across Anderson's smug face. His fist moved hard and fast, and the clunk it made as it connected with flesh and bone was disconcerting. He watched a spray of blood fly out of the alderman’s mouth, and then the asshole hit the floor, unconscious.
But Blake didn’t stop there. He couldn’t. He grabbed an antique vase from a plinth nearby and smashed it hard against the man’s head. It shattered around him, a mess of blood and broken china.
"Shit," Blake muttered, shaking his hand and staring down at the man. He hadn't meant to lose control like that, but the bastard had pushed him too far. The sudden realization of the potential consequences hit him hard. If he'd killed Anderson, there would be hell to pay.
“You fucking idiot,” Nash hissed at him.
"Blake, we need to get out of here, now," Jax urged, snapping him back to reality. He was right; they couldn't afford to stick around.
Immediately, an alarm began to sound and security ran toward them.
Jax quickly pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen as they hurried through the dimly lit corridors. Moments later, the lights in the building flickered before plunging the entire gala into darkness.
In the chaos that ensued, people stumbled and bumped into one another as they tried to figure out what was happening.
"He went that way!" Nash suddenly yelled, pointing toward the back of the room. The distraction worked, as several heads turned to follow his finger, buying them precious seconds to make their escape.
"Come on," Blake said, grabbing Jax by the arm and pulling him toward the nearest exit. They sprinted through the dark halls, hearts pounding in their ears until they finally burst through the doors into the cool night air.
"Nash?" Jax gasped, scanning the area for any sign of their brother.
"I don't know," Blake admitted, his chest tightening with worry. They couldn't leave without Nash, but every second they lingered put them all at risk.
"Let's give him a few more seconds," Jax suggested, his eyes never leaving the door they'd just exited.
Blake nodded, his jaw set in determination and ready to jump back into action if needed.
"Three . . . two . . . one . . ." Jax counted under his breath, each number like a countdown to potential disaster.
"Where the hell is he?" Blake growled, frustration boiling beneath the surface as the agonizing weight of uncertainty threatened to crush him.
Jax's eyes darted between the gala's exit and Blake, panic evident in his gaze. "You need to go, Blake," he insisted, placing a hand on his brother's arm. "Get cleaned up. Your shirt’s covered in blood. I'll wait for Nash a while longer."
"Are you sure?" Blake asked, torn between loyalty to his brothers and the need to protect himself.
"Go," Jax urged, determination hardening his voice. "I'll handle it."
Blake nodded, clenching his jaw as he sprinted to his car parked down the street. As he sped off towards the Haven, his mind raced with thoughts of the night's events. His knuckles throbbed; a physical reminder of his own uncontrollable anger.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel tighter. It wasn't that he hadn't killed before—his time in the military had numbed him to the concept. He’d even killed a couple of lowlife scumbags in the city before now. Quick and clean and undetected. But killing a councilor? In plain sight? That was different. He'd let his emotions get the better of him, and now the consequences loomed large.
He questioned his ability to protect Savannah—sweet, strong Savannah who'd captured his heart in such a short time. Was he really capable of being the Daddy she needed? Doubts clawed at his insides, gnawing away at his resolve.
As he pulled into The Haven's parking lot, the weight of the evening pressed down on him like a heavy burden, drowning him in uncertainty. He stumbled through the door, his body still tense with adrenaline.
"Blake!" Rosie gasped, her brown eyes widening as she took in the blood smeared across his hands and face. "What happened?"
"Where's Savannah?" he demanded, his voice hoarse with worry.
Rosie hesitated, biting her lip. "She's . . . gone out, Blake."
His heart plummeted, dread knotting his stomach. "Gone where?"
"I don't know," she admitted, her own worry evident. "She left a while ago. I kinda feel like it was my fault. I’m so sorry.”
The walls closed in on him, suffocating him with the realization that Savannah was out there, alone and potentially in danger. He had to find her—he couldn't lose another person he cared about.