14. Miles
Fourteen
Miles
The auction video has been running for six hours, not the video itself, but the analysis of it.
Frame by frame, the audio is stripped, cleaned and run through three different enhancement filters.
The visual degradation is mapped and partially reversed using a reconstruction algorithm I built eighteen months ago.
It works better on this than it did on what I built it for originally.
The primary voice is Romanian. I’m certain of that now. There’s twelve seconds of clean audio. Not enough for a voiceprint, but enough to narrow down to geography and start pulling the next thread.
Eastern European operation. American buyer, Midwest accent, educated, and sounds like someone who’s used to moving serious money.
I make a note, tag it and then cross-reference it against the financial trace I’ve been building.
Mason is on a call downstairs. Declan left an hour ago. It’s just me, the screens, and the quiet hum of the house.
A soft ping pulls my attention to the left monitor.
The reconstruction algorithm has finished another pass.
A new notification blinks in the corner.
Partial match found: secondary encrypted partition.
My custom crawler finally breached one of the dead drops.
A video file is uploading now. The progress bar is crawling across the screen.
14%... 27%... 41%. It’s high resolution, and a large file size, so this is going to take some time.
I switch tabs, watching the metadata populate in real time. The timestamp matches one of the missing girls, Renee Park, the nursing student from Nashville. My jaw tightens.
My phone lights up, pulling my attention away.
Sadie
Are you going to the pool party tonight?
On the right hand monitor, the live feed shows her lying on her bed in that thin tank top, her hair still damp from her shower, and her camera in her lap.
Miles
Why do you want to know?
Sadie
I don’t know. I just do.
Miles
Maybe I’ll be watching from somewhere you can’t see me. Same as always.
Sadie
That should bother me more than it does.
Miles.
I know. But it doesn’t.
Sadie
Will you be there or not?
Miles
Yes. I’ll be there.
Sadie
How will I know which one you are?
Miles
You already do.
The dots appear again. Then stop. Then start once more. It makes me happy knowing she has no idea it’s me. I love the idea that she’s starting to talk to me without me having to ask. She wants me I know she does.
Sadie
I’m getting ready for it now. Trying on bikinis.
My pulse kicks harder. I watch her stand and walk toward her closet on the feed.
Miles.
I know. You look beautiful.
Her head snaps toward the open laptop on her bed.
She stares at it, her eyes wide. I smile slowly in the dark of my room, leaning closer to the screen.
She takes a hesitant step closer, then another.
The delicate silver bracelet with the violet charm catches the light on her wrist. She has no idea that her wearing the bracelet tells me she wants me to touch her.
Sadie
You can see me right now?
Miles
Yes. Turn for me, baby. Slowly.
She hesitates, her cheeks flushed, but she obeys. The tiny red bikini hugs every curve, the strings are tied in delicate bows at her hips. My cock hardens at the sight.
Miles
Fuck, baby. That one. That’s the one you’re wearing tonight. I want to watch the water run down your body while everyone else looks at you and knows they can’t have you.
Her breathing changes. She shifts on her feet, her thighs pressing together.
Miles
Run your hands down your sides. Slowly. Like I would if I were standing behind you.
She licks her lips and shakes her head a little as if she’s fighting herself. She wants to, but at the same time she doesn’t. She does it, though. Her palms glide over her waist and hips, her fingertips brushing the ties of the bikini bottoms.
Miles
Good girl. Now slip your fingers just under the front. Tell me how wet you are thinking about me watching you at the party.
Her hand trembles as it dips beneath the red fabric. Her lips part, her eyes are locked on the laptop like she’s looking straight at me, because she is.
Sadie
I’m… soaked.
Miles
I know. Keep touching. Slow circles. Imagine it’s my tongue instead. I’d pull you behind one of those cabanas, drop to my knees, and taste how sweet you get for me while the music keeps playing.
She whimpers, her fingers moving under the bikini. Her thighs tremble. The bracelet glints with every motion of her wrist. I watch every second: the way her chest rises faster, the way her nipples press against the thin top, and the flush creeping down her neck.
Miles.
That’s it. Get yourself right to the edge… then stop. Save it for me. Tonight I’m going to find you, pull you somewhere dark, and finally give you what you’ve been aching for.
She pulls her hand away with a shaky exhale, visibly frustrated and turned on. Her eyes stay glued to the laptop, her breathing hard.
Sadie
You’re evil.
Miles.
I know, baby. Wear the red one. I like how it looks on you.
I set the phone down and lean back, my eyes still fixed on the feed as she stands there, flushed and unsteady, her chest rising fast, and the red bikini strings begging to be untied.
My cock is throbbing, but I don’t touch myself.
Not yet. She’s mine to ruin properly, and I want her desperate for it tonight.
My attention goes back to the file uploading as it beeps again. The progress bar hits 100%. The file opens automatically.
I freeze.
The video is raw, unedited. Renee is on a concrete floor in what looks like an abandoned warehouse, her wrists zip-tied behind her back.
Three men in black masks surround her. One of them grabs her by the hair and yanks her head back while another rips her shirt open.
She’s crying, struggling, and begging in a broken voice that cracks on every word.
They don’t speak much. Just low, muffled laughter and grunts as they take turns raping her.
One forces her legs apart while another slaps her hard across the face, then again, harder, until blood trickles from her lip.
The camera stays steady, capturing every brutal detail: the way her body jerks when they rape her, the bruises already blooming across her ribs and thighs, the way she stops fighting after the third man and just lies there sobbing.
My stomach doesn’t turn. It should. Instead, a cold, familiar calm settles over me. This is the network. This is what we’re actually hunting.
I watch the entire four-minute clip without blinking, cataloging every mask, every visible tattoo, and every background detail that might give me a location.
When it ends on a final, sickening close-up of her tear-streaked face, I exhale slowly through my nose.
Then the words appear. The auction starts soon.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath.
The contrast hits me like a blade. On the right screen, Sadie is still standing in front of her laptop in that tiny red bikini, flushed and aroused and safe. On the left, Renee Park was broken in ways most people can’t even imagine.
I close the video, but the images stay burned behind my eyes.
Sadie has no idea how ugly the world really is. That’s why I watch her so closely. That’s why I’ll keep her in the dark as long as I can.
I glance back at the feed. She’s changed out of the bikini now, pulling an oversized t-shirt over her head. The silver bracelet is still on her wrist.
I’ll see you tonight, baby, I’ll watch over you.
***
Harte's place is exactly what Mason said it would be: a big house with a heated pool and a garden that says someone's parents have way too much money and make stupid decisions.
Mason is already talking to someone by the time we're through the door. Declan has Trixie's hand and is steering them both toward the drinks and their friends. Lileah is already heading toward a group of girls near the pool, and I close the distance before she gets there.
"Hey." I catch her arm. "Give me two minutes."
She turns and stares at me for a moment. “What?"
I pull her slightly to the side, away from the flow of people moving through the door.
I reach into my jacket pocket. I take out the bracelet first, it’s a silver chain, with a small tracker embedded in the clasp.
It’s indistinguishable from decoration unless you know what you're looking for.
I pull the earrings out next; they have green stones with the same setup.
I hold them out. Lileah looks at them, then back to me "Where did these come from? "
"Doesn't matter. Put them on."
"Miles…"
"Put them on, Lileah." She needs to know I’m not joking, that fucking video has messed with my head.
She takes them slowly, turning the bracelet over in her hand as if she’s trying to work out what she’s missing. "They're pretty," she says, which isn't the point, but she isn't wrong either. She’s always loved green, so I knew she’d love it. "Why are you giving me jewelry at a party?"
"I spoke to Dad." I keep my voice level. "We need to know where you are at all times. These…" I nod at what she's holding. "...make that easier."
"You're tracking me?" The confusion sharpens into something closer to offence. "I'm eighteen, almost nineteen, Miles."
"I know how old you are."
"Then why…"
"Lileah." Something in my voice stops her. It’s not the volume, I haven't raised it yet, but she knows my tone well enough to know that I’m not having this conversation for fun, I’m being serious. "Does it look like I'm messing around with this?"
She searches my face. Whatever she finds there makes her go quiet, that doesn't happen often with Lileah. She's the loudest Crawford by volume and by instinct. Silence from her means she understands.
"No," she says, quieter now.
"Wear them. All the time. Don't take them off." I hold her gaze. "Please."
There’s a beat before she puts the bracelet on. She fastens the earrings next. Then she looks at me one more time like she wants to ask the question I'm not going to answer tonight.