Chapter 22
“Perimeter’s secured,” Mateo’s voice crackled in Alec’s earpiece.
“Ready to move on the south side,” Leland added.
Alec crouched behind a stack of shipping crates, the concrete cold biting into his knee as he too called in his position. “Roof is clear. Good to go on your signal.”
His voice stayed low and controlled. Inside, he was a storm—rage and fear colliding.
Emily was in there. On display. Up for sale.
Six D&A men, each paired with federal agents, surrounded the warehouse. Medical teams waited in the wings for second-wave entry. Everyone was in place—ghost-quiet shadows slipping in from the loading dock, all entrances, and four skylights above.
Through one of them, Alec could see inside. The space was mostly dark, lit only by a blinking green camera light and the harsh white light glaring down on a makeshift stage.
Enzo stood front and center, a depraved auctioneer, calling out obscene figures in his nasal lisp.
Armed guards leaned against walls, leering openly at barely clothed girls trembling in terror.
Benny hovered near the edge of the platform, a knife glinting, ready to slice away what little fabric the victims had left.
Sick fucking bastards—the lot of them.
Emily was there. Standing in line. Bare from the waist up. Chin high.
He couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew the expression. Defiance. Fury. Fight.
His hands clenched into fists. Proud of her for her daring, but also still pissed that she done this. If they survived tonight, the most dangerous thing in her life going forward would be a paring knife.
He scanned the east corridor—Rhys’s channel had gone quiet. Wherever he was, he trusted him to handle his flank.
Exhaling once, sharply, he forced down his own emotions. Lives depended on his clarity—Emily’s most of all.
He glanced toward the next skylight where Dev crouched, willing him to give the order. A beat later, he met his gaze and nodded before it came through his earpiece: “Move in.”
Alec rappelled through the open window, landing hard behind a stack of crates with his weapon up. More Devlin men and federal agents stormed through the doors in full tactical gear. The traffickers were now badly outnumbered.
“FBI! Don’t move!” an agent shouted.
Two guards fired and were taken out permanently.
Alec surged forward. He slammed a gunman taking aim into a support beam, disarmed him, and kept moving. Another raised his weapon—Dev’s shot dropped him before he could fire.
Benny whirled, knife up. Too slow.
Alec tackled him, driving him into the concrete. The blade skittered away. Benny fought, fists swinging wildly, but Alec had size and, more importantly, rage on his side. He landed one brutal punch to his face, cracking bone. Benny’s head smacked the floor. He lay motionless, not dead. A pity.
***
Rhys moved through the chaos—controlled, lethal.
He’d already neutralized two guards. He spotted a woman being dragged behind the stage, short black skirt torn, top stretched and stained.
She kicked and clawed, fighting with everything she had.
The thug hauling her away was twice her size, but she wasn’t giving up.
He didn’t hesitate. He snatched up a folding chair and swung. Metal slammed against the thug’s head with a brutal crack. The man staggered but didn’t go down, although he did release the girl.
“Bloody hell.” Rhys lunged, tackling him into a stack of crates. Wood splintered. A hook to his jaw, a knee to the ribs, and a vicious elbow drop later, the bastard slumped to the floor, out cold.
“A rescue right out of the WWE,” a shaky voice whispered. “Your timing could have been a little better. Sooner, maybe.”
Rhys turned. “Gaby?”
She stood against the wall, shaking, eyes too bright. “Hi, Rhys,” she said, lifting her hand in a weak wave. Then her face crumpled, and she launched herself at him. He caught her instantly, arms locking around her.
She smelled of fear and a sharp chemical tang as he held her close.
***
“All clear,” Dev called in his ear.
“Shit. That was too easy,” Mateo muttered.
“Denali?” Alec demanded.
“He bolted out the back. I’m in pursuit,” Leland replied, sounding winded. “Don’t worry. His slaver ass is mine.”
“Emily!” Alec shouted, scrambling to his feet.
She broke from a cluster of girls behind the stage and ran straight into him, sobbing. He caught her mid-stride and hauled her against his chest.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice raw.
“Enzo escaped,” she choked out.
“Not now. Leland’s on him,” Alec assured her, pressing his face into her hair. Sirens wailed as federal teams swarmed the building. “Everyone else is going away for a long time. You’re safe now, baby.”
***
Rhys heard the all clear. One mission down. Another was beginning, however—because Gaby was shaking against him, and none of this made sense.
He hadn’t a clue where to start, so he asked her. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for someone.”
“Who?”
She didn’t answer. She only pressed tighter against him, fingers curled in his vest. Shaken. Traumatized. But holding secrets.
“Whoever it is must be important to face down the Mafia and a brutal trafficking ring by yourself.”
She glanced up, hazel-brown eyes wary. “I wasn’t sure I could trust anyone.”
“You could have come to me,” he said, softer now. “Or to Devil. To anyone of the security team.”
She hesitated then averted her gaze.
Rhys’s jaw clenched. Clearly, he was among those she didn’t trust.
That stung. For weeks, they’d danced around something real—fire, push-pull, vulnerability she’d shown no one else. He’d thought it mattered. Maybe he’d been wrong.
He’d seen her talking to Emily and Cari at the club and thought little of it. Submissives formed friendships all the time. But now he wondered—was everything at the club a role she’d played as part of this insane mission?
“We’ll talk later,” he said to his own ears sounding terse. “For now, let’s get you out of here.”
He took her hand and started toward the exit.
“Wait,” she said, pulling him to a stop. “What happened to the other girls? There were dozens of them.”
“They’re being treated. We had medical on standby.”
“Can I look? I need to see if she’s with them.”
“Who? You didn’t say,” he asked again.
“Natalie Flores. She’s a nineteen-year-old college student.”
The name meant nothing to him. “I’ll take you to them,” he said.
Outside, EMS had set up a triage line. Across from them, zip-tied traffickers were being loaded into vans. Gaby ignored the criminals entirely—her gaze combed the faces of the rescued girls, tense and desperate.
When they reached the end of the line, and Natalie wasn’t among them, Gaby’s knees buckled. Rhys caught her easily, holding her upright.
“Let’s get you to a medic.”
“I had hoped,” she said, her voice shaking.
“You don’t see her?”
“I didn’t expect a miracle. She’s been missing for months, but I thought—even if she wasn’t here—I’d get a lead.
” Her gaze lingered on a girl with bruises and a split lip, blood on her chin and neck.
“I thought I could handle it,” she whispered, voice distant.
“I thought I was smart enough, strong enough. But I was stupid, and wrong.”
“You’re not stupid, Gaby, nor are you weak. A weak woman doesn’t walk into a den of vipers alone.” He paused. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
Her glassy eyes lifted to his. “I may not be… but my baby sister is.”
Rhys’s arms tightened reflexively.
Bloody hell. No wonder.
He, Devil, and Alec had thought they were done with this shit—that they’d cracked the ring and shut it down. But trafficked girls and their predatory buyers were still out there.
A cold, steady resolve settled in his chest as he took in Gaby’s torn clothes and tear-streaked face. This wasn’t over. Not even close. No matter what they had left after the dust settled, he’d help her finish what she’d started.
***
The tarmac was chaos.
Vehicles screeched in from every direction, headlights slicing through the dark. Sirens wailed. Radios crackled. A helicopter churned the air with violent gusts, the rotors already spinning, the pilot poised for takeoff once his passengers were aboard.
“Not if I can fucking stop it,” Leland growled.
His SUV fishtailed around a barricade and jolted to a stop. He was out the door before the engine stopped humming, boots pounding on asphalt.
Up ahead, Enzo sprinted toward the chopper, flanked by two brutes—thick-necked, armored, moving like linebackers. One carried a rifle. The other acted as a moving, human wall.
Fucking Denali was not worth the sacrifice.
His comm crackled to life.
“Do not let him get away,” ordered Rogers, the FBI Special Agent in Charge. “Lethal force is authorized.”
That was all the permission Leland needed.
He raised his weapon, centered his stance, breath controlled.
Damn. No clean shot.
At the open chopper door, Enzo grabbed the frame, but he didn’t haul himself up and through. The arrogant bastard couldn’t resist gloating. He turned, smirking, chest exposed between his guards.
“You’re too late, boys,” he crowed.
It was the opening Leland was waiting for.
One breath. One squeeze of the trigger.
The bullet sliced between the two huge men and hit Enzo dead center. His body jerked, and he collapsed backward onto the tarmac, blood spreading across his shirt.
The guards froze, shock etched on their faces.
The pilot didn’t wait. The helicopter lifted off without its cargo.
Leland lowered his weapon, calm as though he’d just finished a round at the range.
“Not late, you fucking piece of shit,” he said, coldly. “Just patient.”
Then he turned and strode unfazed to his vehicle.
***
The SUV hummed down the highway. Every seat was filled, yet silence sat heavy from the weight of what they’d just pulled off, and the adrenaline crash.
Devil drove. Emily curled against Alec’s side in the second row, his arm draped around her, protectively. Gaby and Rhys, behind them, sat in much the same way.
Dev’s phone buzzed. He touched his earpiece, listened, then said, “Yeah. We’ll talk more at debrief.” He ended the call and announced, “They got him. Denali is dead.”
Emily let out a breath that broke halfway through, a shudder racking her body. “Thank God.”
Alec pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “The man who ordered the hits on your father and Ethan finally saw justice,” he murmured. “It’s over, baby.”
Emily shook her head. “My part may be over, but there are other girls. Beth Ann and Gaby’s sister. What happens to them?”
Silence filled the SUV. Into it, Gaby whispered, “God willing, there is useful information in those files.”
After a beat, three male voices, one unmistakably British, said as one, “What files?”