Chapter 141 Harper
Harper
The safehouse war room smelled like burnt coffee and sweat, the kind of place where exhaustion and adrenaline made an uneasy truce. A folding table sagged under the weight of laptops, hard drives, and hastily stacked files ripped from Redwood’s fortress.
I slid into a chair beside Carter, his hand brushing the small of my back as if to remind me I wasn’t alone in this. Across the table, Gideon leaned on his good leg, stubbornly refusing the chair Cyclone shoved toward him. His face was pale, but his eyes burned sharp as ever.
Cyclone dumped a stack of files onto the table, flipping one open. “This is a spider’s nest,” he muttered, stabbing at the lines of numbers and names. “Shell companies. Offshore accounts. Laundering routes. He wasn’t just trafficking bodies—he was moving money for half the underworld.”
River cursed under his breath, leaning forward to scan the columns. “This isn’t just Redwood. This is a network.”
My stomach turned as I pulled one of the folders closer. Photos slid out—grainy surveillance shots of young women, dates scrawled underneath like inventory. My throat went tight, the words necessary echoing from Redwood’s smug mouth.
Carter’s hand closed around mine under the table, firm, grounding. “We’ll get them out,” he said quietly, but loud enough for the others to hear. “Every single one. This doesn’t end with Redwood in cuffs. We finish the job.”
Faron tapped a screen where a map glowed red with blinking dots. “These are drop sites. Active ones. Which means…”
“Which means Redwood wasn’t exaggerating,” Gideon finished, his voice gravel. “There are others. A lot of others.”
Silence fell, heavy as lead. The victory of taking Redwood down felt smaller now, fragile against the scope of what sprawled across that table.
I drew in a breath, forcing myself to speak past the knot in my chest. “Then we don’t stop. We make sure those names turn into rescues, not graves.”
Carter looked at me, pride and steel mingling in his gaze. “Exactly.”
River slammed a fist lightly against the table. “Then it’s settled. Redwood’s the beginning, not the end.”
Cyclone’s mouth tipped into a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Guess none of us are sleeping tonight.”
The team leaned in, shoulders brushing, the weight of what we’d taken on pressing down. But for the first time, it didn’t feel impossible. It felt inevitable.
Because this time, Redwood’s empire wasn’t in the shadows anymore.