Chapter 19
Silas
The warehouse sits on the edge of Miami's industrial district.
Rusted corrugated metal.
Cracked concrete.
Chain-link fence topped with razor wire.
It looks abandoned.
That's the point.
Jace is beside me in the passenger seat, laptop balanced on his knees, fingers flying across the keyboard.
"Three heat signatures on the perimeter," he says.
His voice is calm.
Focused.
"Two at the north entrance, one roaming the east side."
"Inside?"
"Twelve total," Jace says.
"Eight clustered in what looks like a holding area."
"Four spread throughout—probably guards."
I nod once.
Sharp.
Decisive.
"How many girls?"
Jace's jaw tightens.
"At least six confirmed."
"Could be more in the back rooms."
Six.
Maybe more.
And Inez is one of them.
I glance in the rearview mirror.
Three black SUVs behind us.
My team.
Twelve men total.
All former military.
Delta.
SEALs.
Rangers.
Men who know how to move fast and hit hard.
Men who don't hesitate.
"Comms check," I say into the radio.
One by one, they respond.
"Alpha One, good."
"Alpha Two, good."
"Bravo One, good."
All the way down the line.
I exhale slowly.
"We go in sixty seconds," I say.
"Once we breach the holding area, it's loud and fast."
"No one gets out."
"Copy that," comes the chorus of responses.
Jace closes his laptop.
Slides it into the bag at his feet.
He pulls his sidearm.
Checks the magazine.
Chambers a round.
"You good?" I ask.
He glances at me.
Smirks.
"Always."
I reach for my own weapon.
A Glock 19.
Suppressor already attached.
I check it twice.
Muscle memory.
Then I grab the AR-15 from the backseat.
Tactical vest already strapped tight across my chest.
Extra mags.
Flashbang grenades.
Zip ties.
Everything I need.
"Thirty seconds," I say into the radio.
The SUVs kill their engines.
Doors open.
Silent.
Efficient.
My team moves like shadows.
Spreading out.
Taking positions.
Two men head for the north entrance.
Two more circle around to the east.
The rest follow me and Jace toward the main loading dock.
I can see the guard now.
Leaning against the wall.
Cigarette in his mouth.
AK-47 slung over his shoulder.
He's not paying attention.
Mistake.
I raise my hand.
Signal.
One of my men—Carter—moves forward.
Low.
Fast.
The guard doesn't even see him coming.
Carter's knife flashes once.
The guard drops.
Silent.
Carter drags the body into the shadows.
"North entrance clear," comes the voice in my earpiece.
"East side clear."
I move to the loading dock door.
Jace is right behind me.
I test the handle.
Locked.
Of course.
Jace pulls a small device from his vest.
Electronic lock pick.
He attaches it to the keypad.
Five seconds.
The light turns green.
Click.
I pull the door open.
Slow.
Careful.
The interior is dark.
Smells like rust and piss and something rotten.
I move inside.
Weapon up.
Scanning.
Jace follows.
Then Carter.
Then the rest of the team.
We move through the hallway.
Single file.
Silent.
The first guard appears around the corner.
I don't hesitate.
Two shots.
Center mass.
He drops.
We keep moving.
Another hallway.
Another guard.
This one sees us.
Opens his mouth to shout.
Jace puts two rounds in his chest before he can make a sound.
We reach the holding area.
I can hear voices now.
Male.
Rough.
Laughing.
My jaw tightens.
I signal to my team.
Flashbang.
Carter pulls the pin.
Tosses it through the doorway.
We turn away.
Cover our ears.
BANG.
The explosion is deafening even through the walls.
Screams.
Shouts.
Confusion.
We move.
I'm through the door first.
The room is chaos.
Four guards.
Blinded.
Disoriented.
I put two rounds in the first one.
Jace takes the second.
Carter and another operator—Mills—drop the other two.
Four seconds.
Four bodies.
The girls are huddled in the corner.
Six of them.
Inez is there.
I recognize her from the photos Becca showed me.
Dark hair.
Bruised face.
Terrified eyes.
But alive.
"We're here to help," I say.
My voice is firm.
Calm.
"We're getting you out."
One of the girls starts crying.
Another just stares.
Inez looks at me.
Her eyes narrow.
"Who are you?" she asks.
Her voice is hoarse.
Shaking.
"A friend of Becca's," I say.
Her expression shifts.
Hope.
Fear.
Relief.
All at once.
"Is she—"
"She's safe," I say.
"I promise."
Inez's knees buckle.
Carter catches her.
"We need to move," Jace says.
His voice is tight.
Urgent.
"We've got more heat signatures coming from the back."
I nod.
"Get them to the vehicles," I say.
"Now."
Carter and Mills start moving the girls toward the exit.
Inez is limping.
One of the other girls can barely walk.
But they're moving.
That's what matters.
Jace and I stay behind.
Covering their exit.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Fast.
Coming from the back hallway.
I raise my weapon.
Three men round the corner.
Armed.
Shouting.
I fire.
Jace fires.
The first two drop.
The third dives behind a stack of crates.
Returns fire.
Bullets ricochet off the metal walls.
Sparks.
Noise.
I move left.
Jace moves right.
Flanking.
The guard pops up.
Aims at Jace.
I put two rounds in his head.
He drops.
"Clear," I say.
Jace nods.
We move back toward the exit.
The hallway is empty now.
The girls are gone.
Safe.
We're almost out when I hear it.
A door slamming.
Footsteps.
Running.
I turn.
Two more guards.
Coming from a side room.
They see us.
Raise their weapons.
I'm faster.
Three shots.
Both down.
Jace is already at the exit.
"We're clear," he says into the radio.
"All targets neutralized."
"Girls are secure."
I follow him out.
The night air hits me.
Cold.
Clean.
The SUVs are running.
Engines idling.
The girls are inside.
Wrapped in blankets.
Inez is in the second vehicle.
Staring out the window.
She looks broken.
But alive.
I climb into the lead SUV.
Jace slides into the passenger seat.
"Let's move," I say.
The convoy pulls out.
Fast.
Efficient.
No lights.
No sirens.
Just shadows disappearing into the night.