Chapter 5 #2
My hands tighten around my beer bottle.
Packages.
Code for kids.
Four of them.
Being moved Thursday.
"We need to get closer," I whisper.
"Fenrir said—"
"I know what he said. But we need specifics. Location, time, who's handling transport."
Hakon nods reluctantly.
I stand, head toward the bathroom, path taking me past their booth.
Slow down as I pass, pretending to check my phone.
"—shipment arrives around midnight. We move them straight through, no stops. Boss wants them in Atlanta by dawn."
"What about the little one? She's been crying."
"So sedate her. I don't give a shit. Just get her quiet or she'll draw attention."
My blood runs cold.
Little one.
Crying.
Sedated like cargo.
I keep walking, force myself into the bathroom, grip the sink.
Breathe.
Focus.
Can't lose it here.
When I return to the table, Fenrir's eyes meet mine across the room.
He saw where I went.
Knows I was listening.
I give the slightest nod.
Confirming.
This is it.
These are our guys.
We have maybe thirty more minutes before it looks suspicious that we're still here.
Then the door to the back room opens.
A man emerges—older, hard-faced, walking with authority.
Behind him, being pulled by the arm, is a little girl.
Maybe six or seven years old at most.
Dark hair, tear-stained face, eyes wide with terror.
She's wearing pajamas.
Fucking pajamas with cartoon characters.
She stumbles, tries to pull away.
The man jerks her forward, hisses something I can't hear.
She whimpers, and everything in me goes cold.
Then hot.
Then utterly, perfectly calm.
The man drags her toward the booth where the three traffickers sit.
"Here's the problem one," he says, loud enough for me to hear now. "Won't stop crying. Making the others nervous."
"Sedate her," one of them says.
"Already did. Still crying. Starting to think she's more trouble than she's worth."
My vision tunnels.
More trouble than she's worth.
Like she's not a human child.
Like her fear doesn't matter.
Hakon's hand lands on my arm. "Don't."
But I'm already standing.
Already moving.
Fenrir sees me, starts to rise.
Too late.
I'm across the room in three strides.
"Hey," I say to the man holding the girl. "You dropped this."
I hold out a twenty-dollar bill.
He looks confused, releases the girl's arm for just a second to take it.
That's all I need.
I grab the girl, pull her behind me, put myself between her and the men.
The traffickers are on their feet now, hands going to weapons.
"The fuck do you think you're doing?" one of them snarls.
"Leaving. With her."
"Like hell—"
Fenrir's there now, Hakon and Ulf flanking him.
Four of us.
Three of them.
Plus the man who brought the girl.
The bar's gone quiet.
Everyone is fucking watching.
"You don't want to do this," Fenrir says, voice hard. "We're just taking the girl. You can walk away."
"She's ours. Paid for. Property."
The word makes my trigger finger itch.
"She's a child," I say. "Not property. And we're leaving."
"You're making a big mistake," one of them says. "You have any idea who you're fucking with?"
"Don't care."
Movement behind me—the girl sobbing quietly.
I crouch down, turn to face her, keeping my body between her and the men.
"Hey honey," I say softly. "I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? But I am gonna get you away from these bad men. Can you do that? Can you come with me?"
She's crying too hard to speak.
Just nods.
Small.
Terrified.
Trusting me because she has no other choice.
I stand, scoop her up.
She weighs almost nothing.
Wraps her arms around my neck, buries her face against my shoulder.
"We're walking out now," Fenrir says. "Don't follow."
The traffickers don't move.
But their eyes promise they’re going to be violent.
We back toward the door, weapons drawn now, no longer pretending.
The bartender has a phone to his ear—probably calling cops.
Fine.
Let him.
We'll be gone before they arrive.
Outside, the parking lot's darker than I remember.
"Move," Fenrir orders. "Now."
We run for the truck.
I'm still holding the girl.
She's shaking so hard I can feel it through my whole body.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Fenrir's in my face as soon as we're in the lot. "We were supposed to observe! Gather intel! Not start a goddamn firefight!"
"I couldn't leave her."
"So you compromised the entire run?"
"I saved a child."
"And alerted the network that someone's onto them!" Fenrir's furious. "They'll scatter now. Move their operation. We'll lose the chance to take down the whole ring because you couldn't follow orders!"
"Then I guess I can't follow orders where kids are concerned."
We stare at each other.
The girl whimpers against my shoulder.
Fenrir's expression shifts—from rage to something else.
Understanding, maybe.
Or resignation.
"Get her in the truck," he says finally. "We're leaving."
But before we can move, the bar door slams open.
The traffickers emerge, weapons drawn.
"Give us the girl!" one shouts.
"Not happening," I call back.
They spread out, flanking us.
Hakon and Ulf take position, weapons up.
This is about to get bloody.
Then headlights sweep across the lot—another vehicle pulling in fast.
Local cops.
Fuck.
The traffickers see them too, curse, start backing toward their own trucks.
"This isn't over!" one shouts at me. "We'll find you!"
They peel out, tires squealing.
The cops pull up, lights flashing.
Two deputies emerge, hands on weapons.
"What's going on here?" one demands.
Fenrir steps forward, hands visible, non-threatening.
"That little girl was being trafficked. We took her from those men who just left. We're taking her to safety."
"You got proof of that?"
"Call it in. Check missing children databases. She was taken from somewhere recently."
The deputies exchange looks.
One speaks into his radio, giving a description.
Long minutes pass.
The girl hasn't stopped shaking.
I hold her tighter, whispering reassurances she probably can't even hear.
Finally, the deputy's radio crackles.
He listens, nods, then looks at us.
"There's an AMBER Alert out of Mobile. Girl matching this description was taken from her bedroom three days ago. Parents are frantic."
Relief crashes through me.
"Then you know we're telling the truth," Fenrir says.
"We still need to take her. Process her, get her medical attention, reunite her with her family."
"Of course." I crouch down, speak gently to the girl. "Honey, these police officers are gonna take you somewhere safe, okay? They're gonna call your mommy and daddy. You're going home."
She looks at me with huge, terrified eyes.
She doesn't want to let go.
"It's okay," I tell her. "You're safe now. Nobody's gonna hurt you."
One of the deputies approaches slowly, holding out his hand. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you to your parents."
Slowly, so slowly, she releases her grip on my neck and lets the deputy take her.
He carries her to his patrol car, wraps her in a blanket, speaks softly to her.
The other deputy gets our information—names, contact info, statement about what happened.
"You're lucky," he tells us. "Could've gone bad in there."
"Had to be done," Fenrir says.
"Maybe. But you boys be careful. Trafficking rings don't forget. They'll come looking for whoever cost them merchandise."
"Let them come," I say.
The deputies leave with the girl.
We stand in the parking lot, watching the taillights disappear.
"Well," Hakon says finally. "That went completely off the rails."
"Understatement," Ulf mutters.
Fenrir turns to me.
I brace for the explosion.
But instead he says, "You did the right thing."
I blink. "What?"
"The investigation, the intel gathering—that was the smart play. The strategic play." He pauses. "But leaving that little girl? That would've been wrong. And I'm not raising my daughter to be with a man who can do wrong and call it strategy."
The words land heavy.
"I thought you were pissed."
"I am. You went rogue, compromised our position, alerted the network." He claps a hand on my shoulder. "But you saved a child. And that matters more than what we needed. So yeah, I'm pissed, and proud your father raised you to be a good man. Both at once."
"What now?" Hakon asks. "They know someone's onto them."
"Now we move faster," Fenrir says. "They'll try to move the Thursday shipment earlier, or cancel it altogether. We need to get ahead of them."
"Emergency kirkja?" Ulf suggests.
"Tomorrow morning. We brief everyone, accelerate the timeline." Fenrir looks at me. "They know someone's onto them now. They'll either move the Thursday shipment up or scatter completely. We need to act fast."
"What about tonight?" Hakon asks. "Those three are still out there."
"Not for long," I mutter.
Fenrir's eyes cut to me. "We're not starting a war in a parking lot with local cops involved. We got the girl. That's the priority."
He's right.
Logically, strategically, he's absolutely right.
But everything in me wants to follow those fuckers down and put bullets in the men who called a six-year-old child "merchandise."
"Get in the truck," Fenrir orders. "We're leaving before those cops decide to ask harder questions."
We pile in.
Fenrir pulls out of the lot, takes the back roads instead of the highway.
My phone buzzes.
Text from Ingrid:
Are you okay?
I type back:
Yeah. On my way back. Wait for me?
Her response comes immediately:
Always.
I stare at the word.
Always.
After everything—her running, her fear, her walls crumbling just hours ago.
Always.
"So what's the play?" Hakon asks from the front seat. "We know they're moving kids Thursday, probably earlier now. We know the exit—192. We know the destination is Atlanta. What else do we need?"
"Exact location of the warehouse," Fenrir says. "How many men they have. What kind of security. How many kids are in the shipment."
"And what we're gonna do with the traffickers once we have them," Ulf adds quietly.
The truck goes silent.
We all know what that means.
The club's killed before—self-defense, protecting territory, eliminating threats.
But this is different.
This is premeditated.
Calculated.
Hunting.
"We vote on that in kirkja," Fenrir says finally. "But my personal opinion? Anyone trafficking kids doesn't deserve to breathe."
Nods all around.
"Tomorrow morning" Fenrir continues. "Full church. We present what we learned, vote on next steps, and mobilize. If they're moving that shipment early, we need to be ready."
"What about the cops?" I ask. "They have the girl now. They'll investigate. Might step on our operation."
"Let them investigate. By the time they put together a task force and get warrants, we'll have already handled it." Fenrir's voice is hard. "This is our territory. Our people. We protect our own, and that includes every kid in North Florida."
My phone buzzes again.
This time it's a news alert—AMBER Alert canceled, child recovered safely, reunited with family.
I show it to the others.
"That little girl's on her way home," Ulf says quietly. "Because of us. Because Gunnar didn't walk away."
"And how many others are still out there?" Hakon asks. "How many more Thursday shipments have already happened that we didn't stop?"
The weight of it settles over the truck.
We saved one.
But there are more.
Always more.
"We end this," Fenrir says. "Whatever it takes. We find that warehouse, we get those kids out, and we make sure these bastards never do this again."
"Agreed," I say.
Hakon and Ulf echo it.
The rest of the drive passes in tense silence, each of us processing what we learned, what we saw, what comes next.
When we finally pull into the compound, it's nearly two in the morning.
The clubhouse is mostly dark—just security lights and a few members still up in the common room.
"Get some sleep," Fenrir tells us as we climb out of the truck. "Church is in six hours. We need to be sharp."
Hakon and Ulf head inside.
I start to follow, but Fenrir's voice stops me.
"Gunnar."
I turn.
He's leaning against the truck, arms crossed, studying me in the dim light.
"Yeah?"
"What you did tonight—going rogue, taking that girl—it was reckless. Emotional. Everything we're not supposed to be on an op."
"I know."
"But it was also right. And if you hadn't done it, I would've." He pauses. "That little girl's alive because you couldn't walk away. That matters."
"But the investigation—"
"Fuck the investigation. We'll adapt. We always do." He pushes off the truck, comes closer. "I'm telling you this because you need to hear it. You did good tonight. Don't second-guess it."
Relief crashes through me.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. We still have to explain to Runes why we blew our cover and potentially scattered a trafficking network." A slight smile. "But I'll back your play. What you did was right, even if it wasn't smart."
He starts to head inside, then pauses.
"And Gunnar? About my daughter."
Here it comes.
"I saw how she looked at you when we left. How you looked at her." His expression is serious. "She's been hurt. By men in this club. Men I should've protected her from better."
"I'm not them."
"I know. That's why I'm not breaking your jaw right now." He meets my eyes. "But she's fragile. More than she shows. You need to be patient. You need to be sure. Because if you're not—if this is just something casual for you—I need to know now before she gets in any deeper."
"It's not casual," I say firmly. "I'm in love with her. Have been for years. I'm not going anywhere."
Fenrir studies me for a long moment.
Then nods.
"Good. Because she deserves someone who stays. Someone who sees past the walls and the damage and loves her anyway." He claps a hand on my shoulder. "Be that man, and we won't have problems."
"I will be. I am."
"Then welcome to the family, son. Officially." A slight smile. "Even if I did want to shoot you when I walked in on you two earlier."
Despite everything—the tension, the trafficking ring, the danger ahead—I laugh.
"Fair enough."