Chapter 14 #2
The blueprints show it is more or less ninety thousand square feet.
It’s bullshit, we already know what it really is.
This trafficker is a live streamer, and all the operations are done there.
Women between the ages of eighteen to possibly early twenties are being held captive inside and forced to do any kind of request. The buy-in to join the livestream is hundreds of thousands of dollars.
The subscribers’ type into the chat what they want to happen, and the highest bidder’s request determines what the livestream will be.
My attention moves back over to the chat, and I scroll to the newest message and start reading.
Stream tomorrow night.
New fruit arrived today.
Highest bidder makes the cake.
Disgust curdles deep in my gut, but the wrath is spreading like fire does over spilled gasoline.
All I hear is the rain hammering the windows as my fingers move on autopilot, searching and accumulating information.
I sense Cassidy’s presence beside me before my eyes do. I glimpse over at her. Her damp hair pinned up in a claw clip, wearing her favorite beige oversized lounge set that engulfs her and is two sizes too big with one sleeve slung low showing her white bra strap.
Her brows pull together with concern the moment she notices my expression. “What’s happened?”
I point to the monitor with the chat room still active.
“He’s shown back up.”
Cassidy gravitates toward the monitor, her bare feet skimming the hardwood floors. The scent of her shampoo trailing after her.
The monitor light turns her expression into an open book, every emotion surfacing the instant recognition takes hold.
“montsterinyourcloset868,” she gasps.
She reviews the information on the other screen, catching up with it all, warehouse schematics, security rotations, different crypto wallets, screenshots from past livestreams that I have before the file was scrubbed.
Her face darkens into something glacial as she processes more information.
“How many women?” she questions.
“At least four that we know of right now.”
Her jaw flexes, “Ages?”
“Anywhere between eighteen to early twenties, that hasn’t changed.”
Thunder shakes the windows while messages continue lighting up nonstop on the monitor.
One of the livestream preview feeds activates briefly and we both freeze.
A fluorescent lit room comes into view on the screen. Cheap makeup stations on the side with folding chairs in front of them with ring lights.
Fear-stricken girls sit motionless along a wall while men behind the camera laugh.
Cassidy’s breathing changes straightaway.
“The stream is tomorrow?” she rushes out.
“The main event is tomorrow night.”
“They are setting up now.” Her stare could cut steel.
“Yeah, but tonight a VIP subscriber will be granted a livestream of their choosing with some of the newly acquired girls.” I tap another screen. “His workers are already at the warehouse prepping equipment.”
Security layouts appear across the monitors. Entry points, there are three huge rolling bay doors. Blind spots. Camera loops. I’ve already started assimilating a plan.
Cassidy shifts into mission mode, her gaze combing over every detail. “And him, where is he?”
I bring up a different file on the adjacent screen.
“He’s home tonight playing poker with his friends,” I inform her, “He lives in a rundown house in Keytown on a huge piece of property with the home located further from the main road.”
“It won’t be easy to go unnoticed, that is a busy part of town.”
“That area is full of drug addicts and gang violence, the likelihood of them reporting us is pretty slim.”
Cassidy studies the image and her arms wind around herself like a shield.
“So, we hit the warehouse first.” She states confidently.
“Take out the security guards then the workers. Extract the girls and hand them off to the rescue crew. Then pull the server data and livestream archives before they wipe everything.”
“And then we go to his house.”
I recline in my chair, my eyes glued to the glowing screen. “That’s the plan.”
Her focus returns to the livestream feed still onscreen. One of the girls can’t stop shaking. Another one stares blankly at the floor like she already left her body hours ago.
Cassidy’s expression hardens into something deadly.
“How many security guards outside the warehouse?” she inquires.
“Five guards minimum. Maybe more.”
“Are we preparing for them to be heavily armed?”
“Yes, and we should assume the men controlling the livestream to be armed to some extent as well.”
“What about exterior video surveillance?”
“I can hack it from my laptop in the car.”
She absorbs all of it like she’s mentally filing away every possible scenario.
I observe her with the same caution I would to a live grenade.
“Cass.”
Her eyes flick over to mine.
“You don’t have to see what’s inside there tonight,” I tell her with quiet understanding.
A hollow laugh leaves her. “Tyler.” She gestures to the screen. “Women our age are in fucking cages while men pay to destroy them online.”
Her voice drops. “I absolutely need to see what’s inside there.”
The storm outside worsens, thunder coursing through the house making the windows vibrate.
Another message pops up on the screen.
VIP subscribers sending in their requests and the bidding has begun.
Cassidy stares at the words for several long seconds before looking at me again.
There’s nothing but pure hatred left in her demeanor now.
“When do we leave?”
I glance at the clock in the corner of the monitor.
“One hour.”
She pivots for the door without another word, then stops.
“When we get to his house, I want him awake long enough to understand exactly why we came for him.”
She speaks with conviction, every word as sharp as one of her blades.
I finish up with the details and record the coordinates on my phone.
By the time we’re done tonight, the storm outside will look merciful.