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I twirl the rose, getting lost in the memory of my mother. She was beautiful. Long, black hair with eyes as dark as my right eye—nearly black. But she carried a shroud of sunlight around her. Dad always joked that she kept herself in the shadows so everyone else could shine. She was selfless and kind, always giving but never taking.

Deep down, I know my mother would be incredibly proud of what I’m doing. She may not approve of my methods, but I think she would’ve found a place with the girls I save. Helping them and taking care of them.

She would’ve been happy.

Setting the rose down, I turn and glance one last time at the mirror. I make sure my three-piece suit doesn’t have a wrinkle in sight. The Armani suit has been tailored to mold perfectly to my body and drips with capitalism.

Good thing I steal from the rich.

“You look beautiful,” Jay says wispily, wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye. I give him a droll look and slap his forehead as I walk by.

I ignore the muttered ow and grab my keys and wallet before slipping on the earpiece and loading myself with two guns. I grab my white gold Rolex, fastening it around my wrist. It’s no ordinary overpriced watch though. Right by the clasp on my inner wrist is a tiny button I installed. The moment I press it, a diversion will ensue and hopefully allow me to get the poor child out safely.

I’ve already hacked the cameras inside and out of Daniel's place, and while he has hired security detail, the few guests I saw enter didn’t get patted down nor were required to walk through a body scanner.

This tells me this is more of an intimate affair with few people who are trusted enough not to shoot the place up.

I roll my neck, my muscles brimming with tension. Something about this night feels off. It feels like being shot at in a metal room, just waiting for the bullet to ricochet and hit me somewhere vital.

There’s absolutely no way I’m letting a young child get sacrificed or abused tonight. This will be a matter of how to get the girl out safely while maintaining innocence. If I’m to be brought into the underground dungeon tomorrow, then I need to stay on Daniel's good side.

“I want your eyes on Addie tonight as well. If something happens, you tell me immediately.”

He chuckles. “Do you think she’ll like it when I stalk her, too?”

I pin him with a glare. “You watch her for any purpose other than ensuring her safety, I'll cut your dick off and feed it to you.”

His face scrunches up in disgust, but I don’t miss the flash of terror in his eyes. “Just kidding, dude,” he assures, his hands raised in surrender. “I like my women willing.”

A wicked smile forms, though the heat in my eyes remains. “Sounds to me like you don’t understand a woman’s body well enough to know when it sings for you, even when her mouth tries to resist.”

Jay’s sputtering follows me out, and I can’t help but laugh when I hear him on the phone immediately after, getting reassurance from one of his booty calls.

“So glad you could make it, Zack,” Daniel greets, gripping one hand in a handshake and slapping me on the back with the other.

Dan’s house is just as ostentatious as any other person with a bank account sitting in the millions. His house is rustic, with an accent wall made of wood to imitate a cabin, exposed beams, wooden floors that he paid big money to look weathered, and a lot of tan and brown accents.

Abstract paintings decorate the walls, each painting with an earthy tone of reds, browns and yellows. I pause at one in particular, the drone of Daniel greeting other guests behind me turning into a low buzz.

The painting looks like two big brown eyes, with streaks of bright red trailing from them. Soft yellows and reds make up the round, short curves of the girl’s face. My eyes roam, taking in every detail until the full picture comes together.

It’s a little girl crying tears of blood.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I drag my eyes away to find Daniel standing next to me, his eyes roving over the painting with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

He stares at the painting with pride as if he painted it himself.

“Yes,” I murmur, before turning away. I’m not going to stand there and interpret art as if I'm not standing in a museum of depraved paintings. One glance around shows the other paintings are carved in subtle morbidity.

I shake hands with a few people I recognize from Savior's and Pearl. Minutes later, Daniel has us all join him in the dining room, the twenty-foot-long table set for at least twenty people.

It’s not a normal set up. There are crystal glasses, white plates and a fork and knife set on a thick plastic covering. The entire middle of the table is completely empty. Normally, flowers and decorations will take up space in the middle to add a taste of class to dinners.

I keep my face blank, despite my heart thudding heavily beneath my ribcage.

“Take a seat next to me, Zack, please,” Daniel insists, pointing towards the chair to the right of him. Of course, he sits at the head of the table, smiling at his guests like a king.