CHAPTER 40 #2
The weight of our discussion sits heavy on both of our shoulders as Joey pays and we exit the bar.
Before we part ways, he levels me with a look and says, “Number one thing, man. Stay off their radar.”
“I will. You don’t need to worry about me.”
He shakes his head, concern etched deep in his face. “I’ll take this to my chief if I have to, but I promise, somehow, some way, we’ll get the needle moving on these guys. In the meantime, keep your distance. Okay? Give me time to work this the right way.”
My time on leave is limited. I don’t want to waste it sitting around when I could use it to gather intel on the Thirteen Devils, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.
With utter sincerity, I tell him, “We’ll try it your way first. But if your people don’t pull through, I’m gonna handle it my way.
This is personal. They made it fucking personal, and I’m gonna deliver payback before I have to head back to my team.
That kid and those girls need somebody to step up and make sure these guys get taken down.
If it’s not your people, then it’s going to me and mine. ”
I go back night after night and watch from the shadows.
The more I watch, the more I feel the need to do something.
The hotel is a hot spot for the vilest of men.
When I see the way the Thirteen Devils handle the girls and the fear in their eyes, or the ones with vacant faces, my rage boils over.
One of them looks to be underage and not only that, she’s sporting new bruises every time I see her.
It’s all I can do to stand aside and not go on a rampage. I know I’m not the only one who sees what’s going on here, yet I’m the only one trying to do something about it.
I honestly can’t take it anymore, and if the police aren’t on board soon, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.
If no one’s coming to save them, I will. I’ll find a way to make it happen.
The 13D’s may have their claws deep in this city, but they’re not invincible. I’ve taken down worse. And I’m not above doing this alone if I have to.
I’m with Joey as the raid goes down. It’s almost midnight, and nearly every room of the hotel is lit from the inside, showing full occupancy, although it’s mostly the east side of the hotel where Veno and his crew do business.
We’re parked a block away, close enough to see everything unfold, but far enough that we won’t be spotted. Joey made it clear: I’m not part of this. I’m just here to watch. But staying on the sidelines feels wrong. Every muscle in my body is coiled, waiting for the raid to pop off.
When the SWAT team members move in, guns raised, they move like clockwork, something I know all too well. Doors are kicked in, flashbangs go off, and the chaos erupts. Cop cars flood into the parking lot next and provide backup.
13Ds start exiting the hotel. Most are armed, and instead of dropping their weapons to surrender when told to, they immediately begin firing back.
Two of Veno’s men go down before they can get shots off, bullets ripping through their chests.
All hell breaks loose from there.
The aftermath is brutal, and it ends with casualties on both sides, but Veno and his surviving men in custody.
Some SWAT members and officers are escorting girls from the hotel.
Some are crying, others are too far gone to even react.
They’re dirty and dazed, some sporting bruises, and watching girl after girl come down the stairs has my chest constricting.
I know I did the right thing, pushing and pushing until the cops took action, but there’s a whole hell of a lot of frustration and anger inside me, too. Pain for what they’ve been through, for the days wasted in bureaucratic bullshit, while we waited for the judge to sign off on this raid.
This is why I’m here. This moment makes me feel like my father’s death had a purpose. It was to bring me home, to catch these fuckers, and to save these women.
It’s why I’ll never stop fighting for what I believe in. It fucking matters.
When those who are capable stop fighting, the lives of the innocent pay the price.
Joey’s talking to me, something about the investigation, but my thoughts are on these girls and not on whatever he’s saying.
When my time with the Army is up, this is the fight I want to dive headfirst into.
This feeling fucking resonates and my bones to the point I practically vibrate with it. And now that it’s there, it’s going to be damn near impossible to stay clear-headed during the next few months of service.
When the cops finish clearing the building, I ask Joey if I can see inside. I need to see it with my own eyes, to make sure this sticks with me.
The rooms are worse than I imagined—filthy mattresses, dirty walls, stained carpet. It feels haunted, as if the forced sex, violence, and fear linger in the fucking air and walls of it now.
I make myself go through each room, cataloguing every detail, wanting to know what these women went through so I can work to prevent it from happening to others.
It’s in the second-to-last room, when something odd happens. I hear a faint shuffling. The hairs on my arms stand on end, and a shiver races down my spine.
“Hello, is someone here?”
There’s another muffled sound, and then all goes quiet.
It reminds me of when, as a kid, every spring, we’d have birds that would break through the mesh on our dryer vent and get stuck in the little tubing.
My dad had to disassemble the ventilation system and rescue the bird every single time.
Sometimes it would injure itself trying to break free, and my dad would try to nurse it back to health. It didn’t always work, but he tried.
I sit on the bed and wait to see if I can hear it again, but ten minutes go by and nothing.
I sigh as if defeated and walk towards the door. I open and shut it, and then remain absolutely still, and wait.
Minutes go by before the shuffling resumes. A sound just like the bird made: a fluttering.
With silent steps, I close in on the closet. The sound quiets as I arrive at the door, as if whatever or whoever’s there has picked up on my presence.
I palm my gun and aim it in front of me. After placing my fingers on the edge of the closet door, I slowly draw it open.
Huddled in the corner, hidden beneath a blanket, is the girl.
The underage one I’ve been concerned about.
She’s in her late teens, maybe, but it’s hard to tell because her face is a mass of bruises, and she’s got a puffy eye and busted lip.
She’s small, thin, and so scared she’s trembling, but fuck, the look she’s giving me. It’s a glare that could cut stone.
Her eyes are blue, and her hair has been dyed blonde, evident by her dark roots. She has olive skin and strong, exaggerated features.
It’s her eyes, though, that keep me somewhat paralyzed in place, because she has the eyes of someone who’s seen too much. Too much pain, too much horror. They’re soul-searing. They level me on the spot.
I immediately take my finger off the trigger and hold up my gun, then tuck it away and out of sight.
I crouch down and, using the softest voice I can manage, I say, “Hey. It’s okay.
I’m not gonna hurt you.” When she remains frozen, I go on, “I’m not a cop, but I can go grab one if you want.
They’re taking all the other girls to the hospital and then to the precinct so they can call their families. ”
I won’t ever forget the terror that floods into her eyes at that moment. She shakes her head vigorously. “No cops,” she says.
“Uh… okay. Can you tell me why?”
She doesn’t respond for the longest time. I wait her out.
“They’ll send me back home. I can’t go back there.”
It takes over an hour to coax her out of the closet.
It’s only after demanding a favor of Joey, and begging him not to say a word about her to anyone else, and both of us promising her that we won’t turn her over to the cops, that she comes out.
Joey doesn’t like it, but I fight him on it.
There’s a reason she’s hiding out from the cops who would send her home.
And until I find out what it is, I can’t in good conscience hand her over to them.
My gut tells me to believe her and give her a chance to choose her own path forward. She’s had enough choices taken away from her; I’m not about to do the same.
So yeah, that’s how I find her. The little bird who later tells me her name is Elle.