Chapter 7 #2
As they move to the back, my stomach clenches.
The driver pulls open the cargo door, and the dome light comes on, illuminating five girls huddled together on the metal floor, none of them older than sixteen.
They’re dressed in thin clothes despite the cold, their wrists bound with plastic zip ties, and their terrified faces streaked with tears.
Two of them bear visible bruises, their lips split and swollen.
The passenger reaches into the van, grabbing the nearest girl by the hair and dragging her toward the door. She fights, her thin arms flailing as she kicks at his legs, but she’s too small, too weak. The driver laughs, the sound distorted by my headphones as she struggles within the man’s grip.
Movement in the alley below catches my eye as Orien emerges from the shadows, followed by Kain and Petra. They move in coordination, Orien taking the front while Kain circles to the driver’s side and Petra approaches from behind.
The man is still dragging the girl from the van when Orien steps into the light, one hand resting in his jacket pocket.
The driver spots him first, surprise flashing before he reaches for his waistband. “Hey—”
Orien blurs into motion, his hand coming out of his pocket with a small black object I can’t quite identify from my position. He strikes the driver across the face with it, the impact echoing in the quiet street as the man drops to one knee, blood streaming from his nose.
The driver’s companion releases the girl, who scrambles back into the van, and reaches behind his back. My breath catches as a gun appears in his hand, the barrel swinging toward Orien.
My hand moves to the small of my back, hand closing around my Glock as instinct drives me to intervene despite my cover. Luckily, Orien doesn’t need my help.
He steps closer, one hand grabbing the man’s wrist while the other strikes his elbow from underneath.
The gun goes off with a flat crack, the bullet digging into the asphalt as Orien drives his knee into the man’s stomach.
The man doubles over, and Orien takes the gun with a simple twist of his wrist before bringing his elbow down on the back of the man’s neck.
He drops like a stone, unconscious before he hits the ground.
The driver scrambles to his feet, blood pouring from his nose as he grabs for Orien’s legs.
Orien sidesteps with casual ease and kicks him in the ribs, the impact audible even from my rooftop.
The driver rolls, curling around the injury as Orien follows, each kick placed to damage ribs, kidneys, and the soft spot behind the knee.
It’s brutal. Efficient. Controlled. Heat races through my veins at the mastery of it all.
The driver stops moving after the fourth kick, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he curls into a ball on the pavement. Blood pools beneath him, black in the darkness, spattered in an arc across the asphalt.
The powerful display sends a buzz through me, both thrilled at Orien’s brutal efficiency and scared for what it could mean if my real identity is ever discovered.
Below, the man stops moving, and Orien pauses, foot still halfcocked for a moment before he lowers his boot to the ground.
He approaches the open cargo door with careful steps, his voice too quiet for my microphone to catch. The smallest of the girls, no more than twelve, shrinks back from him in terror as she huddles in the far corner.
Orien stops, raising both hands to show they’re empty. He crouches, bringing himself to her eye level, and speaks again, his words just audible through my headphones.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”
The girl doesn’t move, her body trembling.
Orien waits, infinitely patient, giving her time to process.
Behind him, the driver moans, trying to drag himself away. Kain steps on the man’s ankle, the pressure just shy of breaking, and leans down. My microphone can’t catch what he says, but the driver goes still.
Petra appears from the shadows, her arms full of blankets and bottles of water. She climbs into the van, murmuring to the girls as she cuts their zip ties and hands out the supplies. One by one, they take what she offers, their movements hesitant with disbelief.
The smallest girl still hasn’t moved as she stares at Orien with naked fear. He stays where he is, not crowding her, not pushing. Just waiting.
“You’re safe,” he says, coming through clear now. “No one’s going to send you back.”
Back. Back to where? To who?
The girl uncurls, her bound hands coming up to wipe tears from her cheeks. “They said they’d kill my sister if I ran.”
“We’ll find your sister,” Orien says gravely.
His words must reach her, because she lunges forward, throwing herself into his arms. Orien catches her, one hand cradling the back of her head as she sobs into his chest, her small body shaking with the force of her tears.
My throat closes, an uncomfortable heat building behind my eyes.
This isn’t what I was sent to uncover. The Blue Note crew is supposed to be a threat, not…this.
On the street below, Kain pulls the driver to his feet, blood and fear coating the man as he sways between consciousness and collapse. Petra helps the other girls from the van, offering quiet reassurance as she directs them toward the SUV they parked across the street.
The driver spits blood onto the pavement, his words slurring as he addresses Orien. “You have no idea who you’re messing with. We had guarantees. Someone fed us the route. We were supposed to be protected.”
The last traces of softness leave Orien as he passes the crying girl to Petra with gentle care before turning back to the driver.
“Who?” The driver flinches at the threat woven through the single word. “Who guaranteed your route?”
The driver shakes his head, fresh blood running from his nose. “I don’t know names. Just that we had protection.”
Orien’s jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “Kain.”
Kain finishes tightening the zip tie around the driver’s wrists and raises his head.