Chapter Fifteen
Rocky
Istretched, shifting slightly the bed beside Wren, watching her sleep.
She lay cuddled in my arms, her head on my shoulder like she slept with me every fucking night.
She'd been through hell because of me, yet somehow she was willing to give me another chance.
I didn't deserve it, but I'd spend every day making sure she never regretted that decision.
The digital clock on her nightstand read three-forty-seven in the morning. In just over twenty hours, the Copperheads would receive their shipment of girls. Twenty hours for Vittorio to finalize the plan and shut down this trafficking lane for good.
I carefully extricated myself Wren, sliding out of bed as silently as possible.
She murmured something unintelligible and pulled my pillow to her and let out a contented sigh, but didn't wake.
I bent to kiss her forehead gently before I pulled on my jeans.
Before leaving, I left her a note, letting her know I would not leave without saying good-bye.
Then I stepped into the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind me with a soft click.
My phone buzzed with an incoming text. Vittorio.
Meeting. Jack’s office. 30 minutes.
I quickly replied with a thumbs-up emoji and headed to the meeting.
Now, I stood at the edge of the table Jack had set up in his office for us to spread shit out for planning.
I traced the perimeter of the old copper mill on a satellite image.
My muscles ached from tension, not just from the stress or the coming battle and need for the violence to be tempered to keep from scaring the shit out of the young women and girls we needed to safe, but from standing in this fucking room filled with men desperately wanted to put a bullet in my skull if Vittorio hadn't vouched for me. Ghost paced behind me, his footsteps a constant reminder that I’d been fucking his daughter, and that in his eyes, I ranked somewhere below dog shit on his boot.
"Guard rotation happens here," I pointed to the east entrance of the compound. "Every two hours, with a fifteen-minute overlap during shift change. This gives us a window."
Vittorio tapped his highlighter against the map, his calm presence a counterbalance to the tension radiating off Ghost. Mostly, Vittorio simply refused to acknowledge there might be a problem because he said there wasn’t a problem.
And because, to his way of thinking, his word was law.
"How many guards on the perimeter of this warehouse?”
"At least seven at any given time. Two at the main gate, one on each corner of the building, and a rover who circuits the property every thirty minutes." I glanced up to find Ghost glaring at me, his silver-streaked hair catching the light from the flickering fluorescent light overhead.
Bloody Jack sat across from me, methodically sharpening a wicked hunting knife against a whetstone. The rhythmic scraping sound filled each pause in conversation, the implied threat not lost on me. Jack never looked up from his work, but I felt his attention on every word I spoke.
"The girls," Vittorio prompted, pulling me back to the task at hand. "How many confirmed?"
"Twelve, minimum." I reached for a stack of grainy surveillance photos, spreading them on the table.
"These came in last week from my guy in Nevada. According to Acid’s logs, the youngest is thirteen.
They were brought to a place outside of Vegas.
" I tapped one photo showing a terrified girl with dark hair and hollow eyes.
"They keep them sedated during transport, locked in a converted storage room at the back of the warehouse.
My guy thinks they came from a South American country and were smuggled, then trafficked to pay their debt. "
Ghost stopped pacing long enough to look at the photos, his jaw clenching so tight I could hear his teeth grind. "And you've been watching this happen for months without doing a goddamn thing?" His voice cut through the room like a blade.
"He's been gathering intelligence," Vittorio answered before I could, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Without which we'd have nothing to work with now. Also, these girls are coming from Nevada. Rocky’s not in Nevada, nor has he been to Nevada. He’s doing his part to rescue these girls after he found the underground network in the first Goddamned place.” He said all this without looking at Ghost or raising his voice. “Remember why we're here, Ghost."
"Hard to forget when the man who fucked my daughter stands in my clubhouse pretending to be some kind of Goddamned hero." Ghost's eyes burned into mine, daring me to respond.
I kept my face neutral despite the fire building in my chest. If this were anyone other than Wren’s father, I’d have beat him to a pulp.
But Wren meant more to me than my ego, so I kept my tone civil.
"This operation matters more than your opinion of me, Ghost. Those girls have less than forty-eight hours before they disappear into a dark abyss of pain and suffering for the rest of their natural lives. However short that might be."
Vittorio placed a firm hand on the table between us. "Focus. The transfer happens tomorrow night. After that, they split up the girls and ship them to buyers across three states. If we don't move just right at just the right time, we lose them."
Jack finally looked up from his knife, the blade gleaming under the harsh overhead lights. "You sure your cover ain't blown already? After last night's clusterfuck?"
The question hung in the air, legitimate and barbed.
"Probably. But it doesn’t matter. They’re committed.
Their only choice is to go through with the deal.
Too much money on the line because it’s not only this shipment he’d be giving up.
It would be all future business with this guy.
And it might put the Acid in the cross hairs for looking so weak he couldn’t control his home territory long enough for one night’s work.
He'll increase security, maybe change some protocols, but this is happening. "
"And we're just supposed to trust your intel?" Ghost demanded, leaning across the table. "How do we know this isn't bullshit to get us in a vulnerable position?"
"Because I verified it myself," Vittorio cut in. His voice remained level but his irritation came through loud and clear. "My people followed the money trail independently. The transfer is happening. And Rocky's information lines up perfectly with what we've uncovered."
Ghost backed off, but the hostility in his eyes didn't diminish.
"The buyers arrive between oh-one-hundred and oh-two-hundred," I continued, pointing to another spot on the map.
"They inspect the 'cargo' before cash transfers, which means all the girls will be gathered in the main floor area.
That's our window. When they're all in one place but before they're loaded for transport. "
Vittorio highlighted the entry points on the map. "We'll need three teams. One for the main entrance, one for the loading dock, and one for extraction and medical support."
I nodded. "The guards carry automatic weapons, but they're sloppy. Overconfident. They don't expect any resistance, but more importantly, they don’t know how to use their weapons properly. You take an experienced team, and you’ll have the advantage."
"They'll get more than they bargained for," Jack rumbled, testing the knife's edge against his thumb before sliding it into a sheath at his hip.
Ghost moved back to the table, his focus reluctantly shifting to the tactical details. "What about the girls? Their physical condition? Will they be able to move under their own power?"
The question caught me off guard. The genuine concern in his voice for women he'd never met didn’t exactly shock me, but it made sense.
It reminded me that beneath the hatred directed at me burned a sense of justice that defined Bound in Blood's code. And, according to his code, I was a fucking bastard. I wouldn’t argue with him on that count and I had no excuse for what I’d done.
But my actions then didn’t mean I didn’t love Wren now.
The woman had knocked me on my ass from the moment I saw her.
"They'll be conscious but disoriented," I explained. "They’re kept manageable with benzos and heroin, enough to make them compliant without knocking them out completely so the can still take direction." The words tasted foul in my mouth.
Jack's knife stilled. "They drug children to sell them easier?"
"Yes."
The simple confirmation settled over the room like a shroud, hardening resolve on every face around the table. For a moment, personal animosities faded beneath the weight of what we faced.
"We've accounted for a medical team already," Vittorio noted, making another mark on his tablet. "And safe houses ready to receive them. The authorities can't be involved initially. We’re not using legal methods to go about this and I fully intend to kill everyone at this warehouse."
Ghost's gaze drilled into me. "And where exactly will you be during all this?"
The question carried layers of suspicion, but I met his stare without flinching. “On the sidelines. Or right in the thick.” I met and held Ghost’s hard stare.
The office door slammed open hard enough to rattle the framed patches on the nearest wall.
Wren stood in the doorway, her purple hair wild like she'd just rolled out of bed.
Every man in the room froze, conversation dying mid-sentence as she marched toward our table.
Ghost moved faster than I'd seen him move all morning, intercepting her before she reached the maps and photos.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ghost growled, his body blocking her path like a human wall. "This isn't your business."