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Nash’s stomach turned.

“I’m going with you,” Ethan announced. “As your business partner and a fellow participant. If we can rescue more women, we should.”

“I’m coming along.” Kane’s eyes never left the map. “A man with your cover persona would have personal security.”

Matt stepped forward. “I’m signing on, too. I’ll?—”

“No.” Nash’s voice was firm. “Stay here. Take care of Madison. Take care of…” He gestured vaguely at her still-flat stomach. “Your family.”

Understanding crossed Matt’s face. He didn’t like it, but he nodded.

“We’ve got a short window to get Nash’s cover established before they start vetting participants and auction opens,” Trees said. “Can we get it done?”

“Stone is creating a digital footprint that goes back five years. High-end purchases, exclusive clubs, private air travel. The kind of man who’d shop on this site. It’ll be tight.”

“I’ll help him finish the job with enough real details to give your story a ring of authenticity and help you maintain cover.”

“Money is being wired now,” Logan added. “Untraceable. More than enough to make you a serious player.”

“What’s our timeline?” One-Mile asked.

“The auction closes at midnight on Friday. That’s six days away.” Trees’s jaw clenched. “The money has to be wired within twenty-four hours. If the ‘winners’ didn’t attend in person, they have another forty-eight hours to get to the island and claim their ‘prize.’”

Nash gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles went white. The thought of anyone else “winning” Haisley…

“This operation… It’s one of the biggest we’ve ever undertaken. More sophisticated than the Tierra Caliente cartel we took down a few years back. These people have serious resources and connections to the highest echelons. But we’re getting her back,” Hunter vowed quietly. “All of you, work your contacts. Anyone who might have heard anything about these islands. Nash, you and Trees need to memorize every detail of Jasper’s background. Kane, Ethan—same for the covers Stone and Trees will create for you. One mistake and they’ll kill you all.”

Nash barely heard whatever else the bosses said. His eyes were locked on Haisley’s photo. On the fear she was trying so hard to hide.

Hold on, baby. I’m coming for you.

And God help anyone who tried to stop him.

* * *

At exactly nine p.m. six days after Trees discovered Haisley online, Nash stared at his laptop screen, struggling to tamp down anxiety. The auction site’s interface looked deceptively ordinary—clean lines, professional design. Like any high-end retail website. Except these sick bastards were selling women.

Six days of preparation, of memorizing his cover, of worrying that something horrific could—or had—befallen Haisley in captivity, of watching that countdown timer tick away…and knowing a million things could go wrong. That he might lose her forever.

And if that happened, he knew precisely what would become of her. His throat tightened.

“You ready?” Trees asked, clapping him on the shoulder in a silent show of support.

No. He’d never be ready to watch Haisley be paraded and sold like property. But he managed a tight nod, jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached.

In the conference room in the EM Security building, the team had positioned themselves strategically. Kane and Ethan sat on one side of him, their own laptops ready. They would each log in separately to avoid suspicious patterns. Trees sat on the other, a spread of computers at his disposal to monitor any threat to their online covers. Matt sat across from him, tense as hell, with phone in hand, no doubt ready to text Madison with their progress. One-Mile catalogued weapons and other equipment while Zy, their demolitions guy, devised a potential explosive strategy in case everything went FUBAR. Hunter paced as he watched over the op, while Logan and Joaquin continued working their contacts.

The screen flickered. A camera focused on a luxurious but empty stage that filled the frame, draped in rich fabrics.

The auctioneer, wearing an expensive suit and an unsettling smile, emerged. “Welcome to our in-person and virtual bidders to an exciting night of prime product. Each is impeccable. There’s something for every taste and desire. You’ve all received your credentials, along with the procedures, rules, and terms of service. So let the bidding of your general inventory commence!”

The first woman stumbled onto the stage, wearing practically nothing. Her body was stiff with terror. Tears streaked her face as she was forced to turn, to pose, while the auctioneer rattled off her measurements, a clinical description of her “attributes,” and her sexual history. Rage gripped Nash, making his hands shake so badly, he nearly knocked over his water.

“General inventory,” Trees murmured, his voice rough with disgust. “They save the ‘premium merchandise’ for last.”

Nash’s stomach turned. Premium merchandise. Breeders.

Haisley.