Chapter 8
AERIANNA
After two hours at the gym, it’s two a.m. by the time I drag myself back to my apartment. My legs feel like jelly, and my arms are still trembling from pushing through an extra workout. After a quick shower, I pull on fresh clothes and head out, driving home through the quiet, empty streets.
When I step inside my apartment, I toss my keys into the bowl by the door and unholster my service weapon, securing it in the safe. My mind doesn’t slow down, racing a million miles an hour. Memories of my past and the people I’ve lost haunt me. And then there’s him, the sexy, dangerous biker who takes my breath away, tempting me to blur the clean lines of black and white and step into the grey.
Losing my best friend, Allison, broke something in me. Trusting men has been nearly impossible ever since. She and I grew up together in a small town tucked away in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. There wasn’t much to do there except party and stir up trouble, and Allison and I were inseparable through it all. If I was there, so was she, and vice versa.
Looking back now, the signs were there. I should have seen them. But we were young, naive, and reckless. I missed them, and it cost Allison her freedom. For eight long years, I’ve been searching for her. Every year that passes chips away at my hope, but I can’t let it go. I owe it to her.
It all started when she began drifting away, hiding things from me. She told me she’d met someone—someone who promised to take her far away from our small town and give her the world. She was smitten, glowing in a way I hadn’t seen before. But she wouldn’t let me meet him. She said I wouldn’t understand. Then, right after graduation, Allison disappeared without a trace.
EIGHT YEARS AGO IN TROUT LAKE, MI
The sharp ringing of my cell phone drags me from sleep. I’d just gotten home from a bonfire celebrating our graduation. Allison had decided to stay longer, saying her new guy was coming to meet her. I left to make it home before curfew.
“Hello?” I mumble, slapping my phone to answer without checking the caller ID. Silence greets me.
“Hello?” I try again, a frown forming. Still nothing. I pull the phone away from my ear and see Allison’s name flashing on the screen.
“Allison? What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up abruptly, sleep forgotten.
“Aeri, I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
“Sorry? Sorry for what? Allison, where are you?” Panic seeps into my voice as I sit up straighter.
Before she can answer, I hear muffled voices and shuffling, then a piercing scream. The line goes dead.
“Allison!” I shout into the silence. My hands shake as I redial her number. It goes straight to voicemail. I try again. Same result. Again and again, nothing.
With my heart racing, I throw on jeans and a hoodie, grabbing my phone to open the Find a Friend app we’d installed on our phones. The icon flashes blue, marking her last location, then blinks to black. I screenshot it and shove my feet into my sneakers.
I sprint down the stairs, grabbing my car keys off the hook by the door. My hands are trembling so badly that I drop them, cursing as I pick them up again. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. I won’t be any help to Allison if I’m falling apart. Once my breathing steadies, I slide the keys into the ignition, fire up my truck, and peel out of the driveway.
On the road, I call Uncle Mark, the Chief of Police in Trout Lake.
“Hello?” His groggy voice answers.
“Uncle Mark, it’s Aeri. I need your help.” My voice cracks, thick with panic.
“Aeri, what’s wrong? Where are you?” His tone sharpens, sleep slipping away.
“I’m driving to the bonfire where Allison and I were earlier tonight. She called me Uncle Mark. Something’s wrong.” Tears spill down my cheeks, and I wipe them away with my sleeve.
“I know where you kids were. I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes. Aeri, listen to me: if you get there before I do, do not get out of your truck. Wait for me. Promise me.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice trembling.
“Hey, Aeri?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s going to be okay.” I hear the sound of him moving around, grabbing his gear.
“I hope so,” I mutter, my voice barely audible. My chest tightens as Allison’s scream echoes in my head. “You didn’t hear her scream,” I whisper before hanging up.
Fifteen minutes later, I pull up to the now deserted bonfire site. What was, hours ago, a lively celebration is now eerily quiet. The fire is nothing but smoldering ashes. There’s no one in sight. My uncle pulls up beside me in his cruiser, stepping out as I open my door. He doesn’t say a word, just pulls me into a firm hug. His steady hand rubs my back before he lets go.
“Tell me everything,” Uncle Mark says gently.
I spill it all, how I left early to make curfew, the guy Allison was supposed to meet, the cryptic phone call, and her scream. I even mentioned the Find a Friend app we’d set up for emergencies and showed him the screenshot of her last known location.
“It says she was here when she called me, but now... there’s nothing,” I whisper, gesturing to the dark, empty clearing. “Just a few hours ago, this place was packed with kids celebrating. Now, it’s like a ghost town. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Uncle Mark replies grimly, “but I’m going to do everything I can to find out.”
He walks to his car and pulls out two spotlights, handing one to me.
“Let’s check it out. Guide us as close as you can to the last ping from Allison’s phone.”
The townspeople assumed Allison had just run off to the big city. No one but me seemed to care enough to look for her. Even my Uncle Mark, who had promised to do everything he could, gave up after two weeks without a single lead. I’d told anyone who would listen that Allison wouldn’t just leave, it’s not like her to do that.
But they didn’t believe me. Her parents shrugged it off, saying she was a troubled teen who’d come crawling back once she realized life wasn’t as glamorous as she imagined. The rest of the town followed suit, chalking her disappearance up to rebellion.
I knew better. Deep in my gut, I knew something terrible had happened. When no one would listen, I started digging on my own.
Allison had told me about a guy she’d fallen for, a man who lived in Detroit. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start. I followed the lead to Motor City, only to find him dead. He was face-down in a puddle of his own vomit, a needle still sticking out of his arm. A literal dead end.
But I couldn’t bring myself to go home. I stayed in Detroit, determined to find answers. Joining the police force felt like my best shot at keeping Allison’s disappearance in the forefront of my mind while making a difference. After graduating from the academy, I searched every dark alley, every homeless camp, and every shadowy corner of the city on my shifts. But day after day, month after month, year after year, I came up empty.
Eventually, the searches became less frequent. Not because I gave up, but because I was running out of places to look. Still, Allison’s face haunted me every day. It was the reason I decided to pursue a degree in Criminal Justice, hoping to use it as a stepping stone to where I really wanted to go: the FBI. If I couldn’t find her as a cop, maybe I could uncover the truth as a federal agent.
Then came the night that changed everything.
My partner and I were on a stakeout, monitoring a suspect tied to a human trafficking ring. It was late, the kind of hour when the streets get quiet but not empty. That’s when I noticed him, a teenager sitting under a flickering streetlamp. His clothes were filthy, his frame so thin he looked like a gust of wind could knock him over. Something about the way he sat, hunched and alone, gnawed at me.
“What’s he doing out here this late?” I muttered, keeping my eyes on him.
Before my partner could answer, a woman approached the boy. They spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes before walking off together. I felt a cold weight settle in my stomach.
“Let’s follow them,” I said.
We tailed them to a house tucked into a forgotten corner of the city. On the outside, it looked like any other rundown building, but inside, it was something far worse.
It wasn’t a typical stash house. Instead of drugs or cash, it held women and children. They were crammed into small rooms, their faces hollow with despair.
“This isn’t just trafficking,” I whispered to my partner, my stomach twisting into knots. “This is... something else.”
The house was heavily guarded, so we couldn’t go in without backup. As we waited, I watched the boy come back out alone. The woman he’d walked in with wasn’t with him anymore.
My blood ran cold. The weight in my stomach turned into a boulder. Whatever was happening inside that house wasn’t good, and I was starting to realize it was bigger than I could’ve imagined.
2 YEARS AGO - DETROIT
“What do you think happened to her?” I asked.
“My guess is this boy is the bait for these sick fucks.” My partner, Adrian Rameriz, replies. He opens the cruiser door, “Let’s see if we can get him to flip.”
Without a word, I follow Ramirez. “Stay close, I’d hate to see anything happen to your fine ass,” Rameriz whispers in my ear.
Ever since I joined the department and he has been my partner, Ramirez has always made sexual remarks toward me. I usually let them roll off my shoulders and not even acknowledge him, but there is something in his tone that has been getting more and more aggressive. The way he leers at me when he thinks I am not watching him.
“Don’t worry about me, Rameriz.” I bite back. “I know how to watch my back.”
Probably the wrong thing to say to him, but I don’t care anymore. I’m done with the sexual innuendos.
We find the teenager sitting on a new corner, under the street lights. He’s looking for another victim. I slowly approach him, with my weapon drawn but held down. “Don’t move,” I command. “Put your hands on your head and your belly on the ground.”
“Fuck,” the teenager grumbles. He does what I ask, and Rameriz cuffs him.
I read him his rights, and we put the boy into the back of our cruiser. Ten minutes later, we’re back at the precinct and have the boy in the interrogation room, questioning him.
Once we convinced him he was working with known traffickers, things started to fall into place, and he told us everything. The teenager, whose name is Rauel Dominga, decided to become my criminal informant. He’s a runaway without a family. When he was twelve, his mother was deported back to Mexico, and he doesn’t know who his father is. After he went into a group home and had to endure bullying and abuse, he ran away. He’s been on the streets since he was fourteen.
My heart aches for Rauel, and I want to do everything I can to help him. He’s a lost sixteen-year-old trying to make ends meet. He informed me that a man named Josiah offered him a job to lure these women into the stash house. Told him that one day he would bring Rauel out to Los Angeles and into Josiah’s world. Giving him money, cars, homes, and everything Rauel could wish for. All he had to do was keep bringing Josiah these women and children. So that’s what Rauel did. He’d sit on the corner and lure in unsuspecting women and leave them to an unknown fate. He didn’t realize he was working for the Black Market Railroad until we showed him proof. He told us about the pipeline running from New York to California. He wasn’t supposed to know, but adults ignore children and talk.
After a while, the job became just that, a job. Josiah would give him food and clothing in return for working for him. With no questions asked and a boy who looks the way he does, Rauel had no issues finding unsuspecting women and children to bring to Josiah.
Now that I have him working with us, I know I’m one step closer to finding Allison.
Rauel and I are sitting in my unmarked police car. Ramirez went to get some snacks from the store down the street for the stakeout.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask Rauel.
“Sure.”
Hesitating, I pull up a picture of Allison from my phone. “Have you ever seen this woman before?”
I show Rauel, and the moment he looks at the photo, his eyes cast down in shame. “Yeah, Officer, I have,” Rauel confesses.
“When? How long ago?” I ask.
“About six months ago. Damien, one of Josiah’s men, brought her in on the same night I was scheduled to work. She was scared and crying, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I went out to do my job, and when I came back, she was gone. I asked about her, and all Damien said was that she went to sunshine and sandy beaches. I figured she went to Los Angeles with Josiah, and I was jealous.” Rauel shrugs his shoulders. “Now that I know what Josiah is up to, I wish I didn’t. All those women are now being sold in the Black Market Railroad, and I’m to blame. This is all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, Rauel. If anything, this is Josiah’s fault. He’s the one who tricked you into believing a lie.”
Ramirez comes back before Rauel can say anything else. Once Ramirez is situated, his eyes linger on my body for a bit longer than I’d like. I’m wearing a pair of tight jeans and a hoodie with my hair pulled up in a ponytail. I’m about to open my mouth to tell him that if he doesn’t stop, I will cut out his eyeballs with a spoon, and Rauel’s phone chirps.
“It’s time,” Rauel says, dread in his tone.
“I’ll be right here with you.” I offer Rauel reassurance.
Rauel climbs out of the backseat of the car and crosses the street. He shoves his hands in his pockets and puts his head down.
“You sure do clean up nicely,” Ramirez states. I don’t look in his direction and ignore his lingering gaze. “What? Are you too good to even acknowledge me?”
“We have a job to do, Ramirez,” I state, watching Rauel. A man approaches Rauel, and he glances in my direction. The man grabs Rauel by the arm and starts dragging him into the alley. “Shit.”
I climb out of the car, and Ramirez does the same. I follow Rauel and the man down a dark alleyway. I can’t find them anywhere.
“Where did they go?” I ask.
My focus is on finding Rauel, and I don’t notice Ramirez in my personal space. He grabs my arm and slams my body against the brick building, making me drop my gun. He crowds my space, nudging my legs open with his thigh. His hot breath fans across my skin.
“I knew you liked to play hard to get, but damn, this is too far.” Ramirez gropes my breasts and licks his way up my neck.
“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to push him off.
“Taking what you keep teasing me with. You know you want this.” He presses his hardness against my thigh, and I want to vomit.
“I have never teased you, Ramirez. You’re my partner, not my lover.” I spit out. Sick of his hands grabbing areas he has no business touching, I bring my arm down and elbow him in the face, making his nose bleed.
“You little cock tease,” Ramirez spits out blood and charges at me like a three-hundred-pound linebacker.
He slams my head into the brick wall, making me dizzy. He has me pinned against the wall with my hands above my head before I can shake off the dizziness. He holds my hands with one of his and brings the other one down to the waistband of my jeans and begins to fumble with the zipper and button. Shit, he’s going to rape me right here if I don’t do something.
Focusing on my training from the academy, I bring my knee up and slam it into his balls as hard as I can. I kick and punch his sorry ass until he starts crying and begging me to stop.
A gunshot rings out. My pulse surges, adrenaline roaring in my veins. I leave Ramirez a sniveling, pathetic heap lying against the alley wall and sprint toward the sound.
Rounding the corner, I spot a small body crumpled on the ground. My heart plummets to my toes. “No!” I scream, sliding to my knees beside him.
Rauel.
His face is pale, his breath ragged. Blood pools beneath him, soaking into the cracked asphalt.
“Rauel!” I cradle his head, my hands trembling as I check for the wound. Blood pours from his abdomen, hot and sticky against my palms.
“I’m so sorry, Rauel.” Tears blur my vision. “I should have been here. I should’ve protected you.”
His eyelids flutter, and he coughs, crimson staining his lips. “Not…your…fault,” he rasps, his voice weak but steady.
I shake my head, tears streaking my cheeks. “Stay with me. Please. Don’t give up.”
One hand presses against the wound, desperate to stem the bleeding, while the other fumbles for my phone. The screen is cracked from where Ramirez slammed me against the wall, but it still lights up. I swipe up with shaking fingers and dial.
“This is Officer Faber, badge number one, one, three. seven,” I stammer, my voice quivering. “Officer needing assistance. A teenager with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. Severe bleeding. I need an ambulance to…” I rattle off the address and hang up.
“Help is on the way, Rauel. Just hold on,” I whisper.
His eyes meet mine, glistening with tears of his own. He lifts a trembling hand and grips my wrist, his strength fading.
“Don’t…blame…yourself,” he breathes before his head tilts slightly to the side.
“No! Rauel, stay with me!” I cry, pressing harder on his wound as his blood soaks through my fingers. “You hear me? Stay awake!”
The faint sound of sirens in the distance brings a sliver of hope, but it feels impossibly far away.
“Please,” I beg, my voice breaking, “Don’t leave me.”
Rauel raises his right hand and captures mine, still trying to stop the bleeding. “Can…you…do…” he coughs up more blood.
“Shh, Rauel. Don’t talk. Save your energy.” I coax him to stay still.
His hand tightens on mine. “Promise me…” Rauel’s lungs are rattling as he struggles for breath. “Get…these…fuckers…” Then his grip on my hand goes limp, and Rauel takes his last breath.
“No, no, no,” I beg everyone and anyone to help us. Save him. I begin CPR, but it’s too late. Rauel's lifeless eyes stare into nothing as his soul leaves his body.
The ambulance arrives a few minutes later, lights flashing in the darkened alley. EMTs rush to Rauel, their faces grim as they assess the situation. I’m forced to step back, my hands and clothes stained with his blood.
One of them glances up at me, his expression heavy. “He’s gone,” he says quietly. “DOA.”
My knees threaten to buckle, but I refuse to let myself collapse. Not here. Not now. Rauel’s lifeless body is carefully lifted onto the stretcher, and the image burns into my mind. I failed him.
Behind me, I hear heavy footsteps. Turning, I see my commanding officer striding toward me, Ramirez trailing behind him like a smug, wounded predator. A bloodstained rag covers his face, but his eyes gleam with triumph.
Shit. I’m toast.
The look on my CO’s face tells me everything. He’s already decided who’s to blame, and it isn’t Ramirez. Whatever bullshit story he spun must’ve been enough to bury me.
Without waiting for the inevitable lecture, I pull the badge from my chest and hand it over. There’s no point arguing, it would fall on deaf ears. My hands are still trembling as I walk away, each step heavy with rage, grief, and shame.
But this isn’t the end.
Rauel’s face flashes in my mind, a reminder of the countless lives ruined by the Black Market Railroad. They took him, just like they took Allison. And if Ramirez wants to side with them, that makes him fair game, too.
I clench my fists, the sting of my nails digging into my palms, grounding me.
They’ll pay for what they’ve done. Every last one of them.
The shrill ring of my cell phone jolts me out of the dark spiral of my memories, dragging me back to the present. I blink, realizing I’m still seated at my kitchen table, the cold mug of coffee cradled in my hands. Through the blinds, the first rays of the morning sun stream into the room, painting bright streaks across the walls.
Without glancing at the caller ID, I press the phone to my ear. “Yeah,” I answer, my voice hoarse and tired. Sleep had eluded me again last night, but that’s nothing new. I don’t even remember the last time it bothered me.
“Aerianna,” my handler’s clipped tone greets me, devoid of preamble, “I need you at Jameson Street and West. We found a body.”
My stomach tightens, the exhaustion evaporating in an instant. “I’ll be there,” I reply, already rising from my chair.
The coffee remains untouched on the table, a bitter reminder of the sleepless night I’ve left behind. Grabbing my jacket, I head for the door, steeling myself for whatever waits at the scene.