Page 35 of Blackwood

“See that door?” I nod toward the container. “Open it.”

He fumbles with the keys and misses the lock once. Twice. Third time,CLICK. The metal groans open as the smell hits. Rot. Sweat. Human waste. Misery sealed in steel. I step up behind him and press the muzzle to the back of his skull.

“Congrats. You’ve officially entered the worst moment of your life. And lucky for you, I’m your tour guide.”

“Zeke,”Nate cuts in over comms.“For the love of God stop playing with your food.”

“Not playing. Just letting it marinate.”

The guy whimpers. Fucking pussy.

Eight girls. Cramped. Filthy. Silent. Eyes wide and limbs trembling. The smallest one’s curled in the lap of the oldest like a broken doll. She’s got blood smeared across her bare legs, staining the hem of a tattered Minnie Mouse nightgown. She can’t be more than six.

I raise my voice just enough to carry through comms. “Nate,” I say, eyes locked on the seller. “You getting this?”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Nate’s voice comes through, low, cold, no hesitation.“Well, at least we don’t have to make a second stop tonight. You know what to do. For Dylan.”

I nod once. No filters. No mercy. Just reality. Brutal. Unedited. And now, fucking personal.

“We need medics, clean clothes, hot food. You know the drill,” I say calmly.

“Already on it,”he replies.

I step closer to the seller, slow and steady. He’s trembling, eyes darting toward the open container, toward the blood, the stench, the wreckage of what he sold. I lean in just inches from his ear. Pretty sure he just pissed his fucking pants.

“That little one in the corner,” I say quietly. “The one in the Minnie Mouse nightgown.”

He doesn’t answer. Just shakes.

“She can’t be more than six.”

His mouth opens, excuse, denial, plea. I don’t care.

“Dylan was nine,” I say

He freezes. Confused. Scared.

“That’s the line,” I whisper. “That’s the rule.”

I lean in, voice steady as the barrel against his skull. “You don’t come back from breaking it. You don’t get to go to our lovely little bunker and play chess with all your sick pedo buddies that we’ve collected over the years. You just get removed.”

Before he can run or cry or beg, Tex comes through the comms, calm but urgent.“Zeke, hurry up. Medics two minutes out. You and Bella need to vanish. Right fucking now.”

I nod once. Then grab the seller by the collar and drag him behind a crate. “Guess I don’t get to play with my food tonight.”

No speech. No theatrics. Just one silenced shot. Straight through the skull. I step over the body, blood already drying on my boots, and head for the van.

“Bells,” I say, reaching for her wrist as I climb in. “Let’s go.”

She stares at the screens, frozen. Eyes locked on the blood. On the girls. On what I just did.

“Zeke, wait,” she breathes. “We can’t just leave. What about the girls? What about him?”

“We don’t have time,” I mutter, grabbing her wrist.

She plants her feet and won’t budge. “No!” She jerks free, voice cracking, chest heaving. “Why aren’t we staying? They need—”

“They need to live,” I snap. “And we’re the reason they get that chance. That’s enough.”