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PROLOGUE

AURORA

“Damn it, Aurora. I’m your boss, and I said you’re not going.”

I cross my arms over my chest and glare at my editor. Hugh Reed is a force to be reckoned with, but he’s never pulled rank on me before. Being an investigative reporter means sometimes rubbing elbows with unsavory individuals to get the story. I’ve been with the Boston Herald for three years now and love my job. The typical crooked politicians, insider trading, extremely high caseloads for social services, and overcrowding in school systems are just a few stories I’ve covered over the years.

For the first time, I have a story that could blow the whistle on organized crime.

“Screw you, Hugh,” I huff. “If I was one of the gu?—”

“Don’t!” Hugh yells. “I should’ve never entertained you digging into this story. It’s too dangerous.”

Heads pop up from the cubicles like little gophers outside of Hugh’s office. The glass walls aren’t exactly soundproof and give a great view of the scene playing out. My face burns with embarrassment and anger, knowing I’m going to be the center of gossip later. It’s not like me to get this pissed, but this is important. I’ve been chasing leads on this story for almost a year, and I’ve finally had a breakthrough. A real-life survivor, willing to talk.

I brace myself on his desk and lean forward. “I have an informant,” I say in hushed tones. “She barely made it out alive.”

“Give the information to the police, and walk away, Aurora. That’s an order.”

“It won’t hurt for me to at least meet with her and hear what she has to say.” I jut out my chin in defiance. “It’s not like I’m going to beat down their front door and demand answers.”

Hugh shakes his head. “When have you ever walked away after an interview?”

“I’m not stupid,” I say, defensively. “I know how dangerous this is. Let me talk to her. If I can get a lead on where they’re keeping the girls, I’ll go to the police. Plus, you’ll have a great front-page story. You’ll be a hero!”

He wags his finger at me. “Don’t you try to butter me up, Parks. Your dad will have the entire United States Marine Corps after my ass if anything happens to you.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m taking precautions. I’m going to meet her at a diner downtown during the day.” Glancing at the clock, I smooth my top. “In fact, I need to go. I’m meeting her in thirty minutes.”

After a pause that has me worried he’s going to say no, he finally grumbles. “At least tell me which diner you’re going to.”

“Now why would I do that? You know as well as I do, as soon as I tell you, you’ll have Jansen follow me.”

“I woul?—”

I hold up my hand. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You would, and I love you for it, but I’m a big girl, Hugh. I can handle this.”

“Fine,” he concedes. “But you check in every thirty minutes or there’ll be hell to pay when you get back, and I’ll call your father.”

I mock salute. “Yes, sir”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“I’ll be careful,” I promise. “You’ll see. I’ll be back before you know it.” I spin on my heel and pull open his door, rushing out before he can change his mind.

“I mean it, Parks… every thirty minutes,” Hugh yells at my back as I run toward my desk.

I rush to my car as the wind howls, and small drops of rain begin to fall. I shiver and slide into my leather seat. Twenty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot at Lottie’s Diner, a hotspot for the local businesses and college kids. I chose this location because it’s laid back, and it will be easy to blend in. I grab a booth in the back corner facing the doorway and wait for the mysterious Lace to enter.

What I failed to mention to Hugh, was how Lace found out about me. I received an email at work last week, stating that Lace had escaped a sex-trafficking ring here in Boston. She was too scared to go to law enforcement because the traffickers have police on their payroll, and she didn’t want to end up back in their grasp. If I can get all the answers I need, we can bypass the local PD and go straight to the FBI, but first, I need to find out if her claims are legitimate.

I’m lost in thought when the bell above the door jingles. A timid woman—well, more like a girl because she doesn’t look a day over sixteen—slowly enters the restaurant. She’s wearing a dark hoodie and torn jeans, but nothing to protect her from the cold snap we’re currently experiencing. Her cheeks are sunken in, and there are dark circles under her eyes. My heart clenches at the thought of what she must’ve endured during her captivity.

This has to be her.

My eyes find hers, and I give a friendly wave.

She rushes toward me. “Are you Aurora Parks?”

“Yes,” I confirm. “Are you Lace?” She nods as she slides into the booth. “Do you care if I take notes?”

Lace looks around nervously. “I guess not,” she whispers.

“What can I get you?”

Both of us jump at the waitress’s approach, neither of us paying attention. I recover quickly. “I’ll take a coffee. Lace, what about you?”

“Do you have hot chocolate?” she asks.

“Coffee and hot chocolate,” the waitress repeats. “I’ll be right back with that. Menus are on the table.” She points to the stack of laminated papers behind the old-fashioned napkin dispenser. “I’ll take your food order when I get back. Pot roast with mashed potatoes and gravy with a slice of Dutch apple pie is the special today.”

“That sounds good,” I say to Lace as the waitress walks away. “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t have enough money to eat.”

“Don’t worry about that.” I hand her a menu. “This is a business meeting so I’m buying. They have good cheeseburgers and shakes here too.”

Shyly, she says, “Whatever you want to get me, is fine.”

“Do you have any allergies?” She shakes her head. “How about two specials then? That sounds good, and then I won’t feel so bad having dinner and dessert by myself.” I wink.

She giggles, but quickly shuts it down as if she can’t believe she even still knows how. I’m relieved she hasn’t scared herself into regretting this meeting. Instead, I get the sweetest smile that steals my heart, when she softly says, “That sounds amazing .”

The waitress returns with our beverages, and I order two specials with whipped cream on the pie. Again, the corner of Lace’s mouth turns up when I ask for extra whipped cream on her piece, but this time, her eyes glisten as if I’m her hero.

“How did you find out about me?” I ask, diving right in.

“You did a story a year ago on foster kids in the public schools and how much our education suffered from being passed around from family to family and school to school.”

“You were one of the foster kids I interviewed?” I ask, incredulously.

“No, but my foster sister was,” she admits. “She always talked about how nice you were and about how you actually listened and believed them.”

I nod, remembering that story. It was so sad listening to children talk about packing up their belongings in trash bags like they were nothing and being shuffled around like their feelings didn’t matter. Once the story broke, the state took measures to try its best to keep children in the same school districts so they would have some sense of stability. It didn’t fix the entire issue, but I always prayed it helped a little.

“Can you tell me what happened to you?”

Lace picks at the hem of her shirt. “We weren’t supposed to go out, but there were these boys from school we liked.”

Thousands of questions bombard my brain at once, but this isn’t my story to tell. Unlike others I’ve interviewed, this is a fragile child who has seen and been through things that others can’t even imagine, let alone survive. Instead of pushing, I bite back my inquisition and let her lead me down the broken world she’s been living in. I’m fortunate to be her voice once she’s done and help her and others find justice.

I smile, encouragingly. “I remember those days.”

“It was a Friday night. We snuck out and met them at the basketball courts.” Lace takes a deep breath. “Everything was going great until one of them got a text from his parents telling him to get his ass home before he got grounded.” Her eyes glass over. “My sister and I took off in the opposite direction to head back home. Halfway there, we cut down an alley. A van pulled up blocking the exit, and we tried to run, but they were too quick. They grabbed both of us and tossed us in. They put black hoods over our heads and told us they would shoot us dead if we made any noise.” Lace’s head drops in defeat as a single tear slips free and hits the table.

“It’s okay,” I encourage. “We can take a break if you need to.”

“No.” Her head snaps up, and her blue eyes blaze with fury. “I need to finish.”

Even though we just met, I’m proud as hell of this girl’s grit. “Go on.”

“I didn’t make a sound, but Sam wouldn’t shut up. She kept screaming. I prayed she would s-s-stop,” Lace stutters. “I heard a loud bang and then nothing. I kept my mouth shut, but I was still crying.” I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “It seemed like we drove for hours, but I don’t know how long it was. I didn’t have a watch. When they finally removed the hood, I was in a warehouse with other girls.”

“What happened next?”

She gulps. “Nothing I ever want to talk or think about ever again.”

“Sexual?” I ask, needing confirmation. “Against your will?”

“Yes,” she confirms. “It wasn’t just physical. They didn’t always, you know… do that, but beatings were a part of the daily routine to keep us in line, along with being told how worthless we were. Bruises fade over time, but words scar. Even some of the worst foster homes I stayed in weren’t this bad. I wish I would’ve stayed home that night. At least I’d still be safe.”

My heart breaks as her words sink in.

“How did you escape?”

“I haven’t.”

I reel back as if I’ve been slapped. “What do you mean you haven’t?”

“I might’ve got away for now, but I’m marked,” Lace explains. She rolls up her sleeve slowly, exposing a UPC tattoo with Property of Krukov.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s their brand,” she explains. “I’m property of the Krukov family. If they find me, they’ll put me in conditions worse than what I fled, or … they’ll kill me.”

“How’d you get away?”

“One of the Johns didn’t show up for his appointment, and I crawled out of the motel window while the guard was getting a blowjob from another girl.”

“Where’ve you been staying?”

“Nowhere,” she admits. “I’ve been moving around constantly. I sleep in the library during the day and hide at night.”

“We can go to the FBI.”

“No, they have people in their pocket at the FBI. I’ve been forced to service one or two of them to keep them happy for the Krukov family. Sometimes, they are the worst monsters out there.”

“I can’t let you get taken again,” I protest. “You have to let me help you.”

“You are.” Lace squeezes my hand back. “You’re listening, and you believe me. No one has ever believed me.”

“You’ve told others?”

“I used to tell the men who paid for sex.” She laughs with no humor. “They’d smack me or just laugh in my face and then use my body for what they paid for.”

“Mother fuckers,” I grit.

My phone dings, and I reach into my purse to pull it out.

Annoying Boss: You still alive?

Me: Yes. This is serious

Annoying Boss: How bad

Me: Worse than you can imagine

Annoying Boss: Be careful. Get back here ASAP

Me: Will do. Eating dinner and will head back

“Everything okay?” Lace asks.

“It’s my boss, wondering where I am.” I put my cell back.

We eat in silence, but when the waitress puts the dessert down in front of Lace, she lets out a tiny squeal of joy.

“Ohmigosh!” she gushes and shoves a forkful in her mouth. “This is so good.”

I chuckle. “I’m glad you like it.”

After I settle the bill, I hand Lace my business card with my cell number written on the back. We walk out of the diner, and I pull my coat tight around my body to block the chill.

Lace pulls her hood over her head and shoves her hands in her pocket. “Thanks for the meal and for listening.”

“You’ll call if you need anything?” I ask, hopefully.

She shrugs. “Sure.”

Lace glances around cautiously and turns toward the alleyway. “Bye, Ms. Parks.”

I give a small wave. “Bye.”

I walk briskly to my car, my mind, and heart at war with each other as I watch that poor girl walk away unprotected again. I unlock my car, drop into the drivers’ seat, and pound the steering wheel with my fist.

Your dad and Hugh will freaking throttle you, but you can’t leave her out here alone to fend for herself. She’s just a baby. Lace is all alone in this world and has NO ONE to protect her. Who’s going to save her?

Mind made up, I throw the car in drive and slowly head into the alleyway, pulling up beside a startled Lace. I roll down the window. “Get in, you’re coming with me.”

“It’s nice of you to offer, but I c-c-can’t.” Her voice wobbles. “I’ll put you in danger. I can’t do that to you.”

This girl has no idea how stubborn I can be. “My dad is a General in the Marines. He can help protect you.”

“How?”

“You let me worry about that.”

My mind races with how I’m going to protect this girl. A plan forms… First thing, I’ll drive us down to Quantico, Virginia, and speak face-to-face with my father. He’ll know what to do.

I square my shoulders and give Lace my best Mom look. “‘Get in the car, Lace. You already took the biggest step you could with getting away from those monsters. Now, take the next step, and let me help you.” I raise my brows when she tries to interrupt. “I promise, my dad is the best.”

“Okay.” A tear slides down her cheek. “Thank you.” She opens the car door and slides in.

“Put on your seatbelt,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”

I check my rearview mirror to make sure I’m not being followed. Once I’m sure it’s safe, I head home. I want to grab my gun, just in case we run into trouble, and grab a few things before heading to Virginia.

Me: Making a pit stop at my house

Annoying Boss: I’ll have Jansen meet you.

Me: No need. Literally running in and out. It’ll take 5 min.

Annoying Boss: Text me when you’re on your way back

Me: Not coming back today

Annoying Boss: WHAT????

Me: Heading to Quantico. Call later with deets

Annoying Boss: I want hourly updates. This is not up for debate. I mean it

Me: Sir, yes sir

Annoying Boss: Smartass. Remind me again why I don’t fire you

Me: Because you love my sunny disposition

Lace and I make small talk for the next thirty minutes on the drive to my house. She tells me about her parents and about how she lost them in an accident, and I tell her about my dad and how I lost my mom to cancer when I was younger. We pull into the driveway and climb out of the car.

“Hello, Kiska,” a thick Russian accent says from behind us. “You’ve been naughty.”

I whirl around to stare down the intruder, and Lace freezes. We were so distracted by our conversation that neither of us noticed the dark SUV pull up.

My body jerks like it's being struck by lightning before the world tilts on its axis.