Page 14

CHAPTER 14

Sienna

Sienna’s breaths shot in and out in a frantic effort to control her churning stomach as she tried to comprehend what Rusty had done to those men. A mix of awe and shock swirled in her chest as she grappled with images of Rusty eighteen years apart—the long-haired, easy-going beach bum she once knew and the hardened warrior, capable of taking down two men with his bare hands in the space of seconds.

The man she knew and loved was long gone, replaced with a mysterious, brave hero who had her heart soaring in so many ways.

A rising tide of panic blazed through her as Rusty slipped out the door and scanned the corridor. As he sprinted to her, something glimmered in his eyes . . . regret maybe, or frustration.

“What happened?” Her voice cracked.

“You okay?” he asked, dodging her question. He clutched her elbow, holding her like he knew she was about to self-combust.

She blinked up at him, trying to reconcile the two different versions of Russell Callahan in her life.

“No,” she stammered. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Me? I can’t believe what you did.” He gently led her toward the open doorway. “You were amazing, Sienna. Crazy . . . but incredible. And look, we found the server room.”

Holding her arm, Rusty guided her into a room shrouded in shadows where the only light filtered from a bank of servers along the back wall with hundreds of LEDs that flickered like a demented Christmas display. The low hum of cooling fans pulsed through the air, a steady, unnerving rhythm that contrasted sharply with the shouts outside.

Somewhere beyond the door, the heavy thud of boots echoed closer, and Rusty’s grip on her arm tightened to firm but not painful as he hurried her forward with a sense of urgency that set her pulse racing.

On the carpet, the two gunmen Rusty had knocked out lay sprawled on their backs like discarded mannequins, their limbs bent at awkward angles. Soda stood over them, her body taut, ears pricked, and teeth bared in a stance that left no doubt that she was ready to attack the second they so much as twitched. Her sharp eyes flicked toward Sienna, then back to the unconscious men.

Rusty guided Sienna toward the computers with his hand on her elbow, steering her through the room with gentle yet firm pressure. As they approached the terminals, two more bodies were on the ground with their hands restrained with zip ties behind their backs. They were dressed in shorts and T-shirts, a far cry from the intimidating attire of the guards. They must be the computer nerds, the ones who kept the trafficking ring’s operations running smoothly.

A wave of guilt washed over Sienna as she took in the scene. One of the men lay on his side, unconscious, with blood oozing from his nose and pooling onto the carpet. The other man, however, was awake, his wide, terrified eyes following her as she walked past him. The gaffer tape covering his mouth muffled his voice, but his eyes spoke volumes—he was pleading for her to help him.

A pang of guilt swooped through her. These men didn’t look like monsters, they looked like harmless tech enthusiasts. But she quickly slapped that thought aside. They may not have been armed or dangerous, but they played key roles in the human trafficking ring, using their technical skills to facilitate the suffering of countless innocent victims.

A sound like a stampede of cattle thundered outside the door.

“Shit!” Rusty yanked her to his chest, slapped his hand over her mouth, and held her against the wall with his body shielding her from whatever new nightmare was heading their way. With his other hand, he aimed his gun at the door, his eyes fixed with deadly intent. The thundering noise grew louder, and Sienna’s breaths shot in and out through her nose as she stared at the doorway, expecting an army of assassins to barge through at any moment.

“Shh,” Rusty whispered in her ear, his voice soft and soothing like he was tucking her into bed at night, not shielding her from armed killers.

“Find her!” Viktor’s cold, menacing voice shredded the air. “Now!”

One man raced past the door, clutching a rifle to his chest. A group of men followed him, their boots echoing through the hallway like a battle drum hitting her heart. As quickly as they came, they vanished, leaving behind an unsettling silence.

Rusty released his hand from her mouth and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Listen. You need to shut down their operation.” His voice was low and urgent.

Sienna struggled to focus with her mind still reeling from the violence she’d witnessed. “But what about the woman who saved Pickle, and the others?” The words caught in her throat as fear clawed at her chest like a monster.

Rusty’s expression softened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “They’re safe, Sienna. I promise.”

His certainty surprised her. “What? But she stood up to Viktor. He will?—”

“Wang won’t harm her now. That kind of spirit makes her valuable—a prize.” The last word slithered through his clenched teeth. “But we can help her—and all the other women—if you kill their operation. Now.”

“Okay. Yes, I can do that.” Sienna nodded, forcing her gaze away from the two men sprawled on the floor.

Sliding into the chair at the computer terminal, she jiggled the mouse to wake the monitor. As the screen flickered to life, a storm of emotions churned inside her: shock, dismay, and a searing, deep-seated anger.

She felt the conscious man’s eyes on her, boring into her back, silent and pleading.

He didn’t deserve mercy. Not from her. He could have used his technical skills to help people and make a positive impact on the world—like she does. Like she’s about to do now.

Her jaw tightened, and a newfound determination surged through her. Sienna’s mind snapped into focus. Years of cybersecurity training took over as she scanned the equipment, assessing the layout and vulnerabilities.

Inhaling deeply, she let the anger fuel her resolve. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, navigating the system with practiced precision. She didn’t dare glance at the man staring at her. His eyes burned with unspoken desperation, but she refused to meet them.

This wasn’t the time for pity—it was the time for action.

Rusty squeezed her shoulder, and leaned into her ear. “You can do this. You’re amazing.”

“I hope so,” she breathed.

“I know so,” he said with absolute conviction. He turned to survey the room.

“Hey, Rusty?” Her voice was hesitant, already tinged with regret for what she was about to ask.

“Yeah? You okay?” He scanned the room before locking his gaze onto hers.

“Can you . . . can you stop him from looking at me?”

Rusty’s expression softened, and he nodded. “My pleasure.”

He marched toward the man, his movements swift and decisive.

Sienna stuck her fingers in her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to witness what was about to happen. A moment later, Rusty tapped her shoulder, and she unplugged her ears and snapped her eyes open.

“Get to work,” he said, his voice low and urgent. He marched away, pausing for a second to ruffle Soda’s fur with a gentle touch. The dog’s tail wagged softly in response, a brief moment of normalcy in the midst of chaos. Then, Rusty eased into the shadows next to the door, blending into the darkness as he stood watch on the hallway outside the door.

Forcing her attention away from everything beyond the monitor in front of her, Sienna attacked the keyboard, typing in code to barge through their system. The screams and shouts faded in and out beyond the doorway, but she tuned them out, her focus solely on shutting down this monstrous act.

As she worked, Rusty stood guard at the door, his gun at the ready. Despite his calm exterior, Sienna caught glimpses of distress in his eyes each time he swung his gaze toward her.

She finally breached the livestream, and her stomach churned as she was confronted by the images of the men who were watching from all over the world. She had pictured them as monsters, but they were ordinary-looking men, some in suits, others in casual clothes, all with a look of mild amusement on their faces.

Bastards!

She scanned the list of names and locations, her disgust growing with each passing second. “JohnDoe22” from New York, “BigSpender” from London, “HansMuller” from Berlin . . . the names blurred together, but the faces remained etched in her mind—ordinary men with evil appetites for cruelty.

“Bastards,” she hissed under her breath, her anger boiling over.

Bu then she saw a face she recognized, and her rage turned to ice-cold fury. Dr. Howard Whitney Williams, the pastor of a mega-church in Oregon, known for his fiery sermons preaching perfect families and moral decay. He had a TV show focusing on family values, and Sienna had always thought he was a hypocrite. But she had never imagined he was involved in something like this.

Clenching her jaw, she stared at his smug face on the screen, her mind reeling with the implications. How could he preach about morality and family values when he was secretly bidding on human beings?

Sienna’s anger threatened to consume her.

“You evil hypocrite,” she hissed. “You will not get away with this.”

“Gentlemen, my apologies for the delay.” Viktor Wang’s voice boomed beyond the doorway, making her jump. “But I’m sure that little slice of entertainment has shown you the quality of women we have for you this month.”

Sienna’s eyes snapped back to the screen where Viktor was back on the stage with a smug expression on his face. “This month!” she blurted.

Rusty shot her a warning glance, his finger pressed to his lips to indicate silence.

She mouthed a silent, “Every month! What the fuck?” to Rusty.

Rusty wriggled his fingers as if typing, silently urging her to hurry. Sienna’s gaze snapped back to the screen, and her heart galloped with urgency.

On the monitors, the images of the women appeared, and Sienna’s heart nearly stopped when the camera zoomed in on the woman who had saved Pickle.

The dog wasn’t in her arms.

Oh God! Where’s Pickle?

“Let’s get the show on the road,” Viktor said. “Who wants to start the bidding?”

Sienna’s fingers flew across the keyboard, and as she forced her focus on the screens in front of her, Viktor’s voice echoed through the speakers, dripping with sickening pleasure.

“Bidding starts at fifty thousand,” he announced with a voice that made her stomach churn.

Sienna’s hands trembled on the keyboard as she worked, her mind racing with the horror of what was happening. The first girl was being auctioned off, and Viktor’s casual description of her made Sienna’s skin crawl. He was talking about her like she was a car, not a human being.

The multiple screens in front of Sienna showed the hungry bidders, their faces twisted with greed and lust. The numbers climbed higher and higher, and bile rose in Sienna’s throat.

I’m going to be sick.

One of the monitors showed the stage in the center of the room, and she caught glimpses of the men in the shadows beyond the stage. Armed guards. Six of them. Maybe more. Their faces were obscured by the darkness, but their weapons were on full display.

Oh God, how will we get out of here? How can we save these women?

A surge of panic raced through her. They were surrounded by armed guards, and they had no idea where the exit was.

As Viktor moved to the next woman in line, a wave of revulsion washed over Sienna. The young woman was barely an adult.

“Next up is our Chinese beauty.” Viktor curled his hand over her cheek, and the woman shuddered like her skin crawled.

Sienna’s anxiety spiked.

Shit! We’re running out of time.

“Rusty!” She waved him over, willing him to see the number of armed men out there.

Rusty shook his head and air-typed again, his fingers flying across an invisible keyboard. “Hurry,” he mouthed.

The bidding jumped to twenty thousand. Thirty. One hundred. Two. The numbers grew bigger and bigger.

“Sold!” Viktor’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Six hundred and eighty thousand. Congratulations, BidderSixtyNine. I’m sure you will be very happy with your Chinese Princess.” Viktor’s voice made her shudder as the guards stood by the stage, watching the half-naked women tremble with fear.

“Next up we have our prized possession. What a delight this Colombian beauty turned out to be.” His gaze fixed on the woman who saved Pickle. “Our little heroine has spirit, doesn’t she?”

Oh God. Oh God.

Sienna’s fingers flew faster, her mind racing with the need to stop this. She couldn’t let it happen, couldn’t let these women be sold like cattle.

Heartless bastards. She fought the tears welling in her eyes. She fought the knot swelling in her throat.

Okay, okay. Come on, Sienna . . . focus. You got this.

Her mind raced as she navigated the layout of the system.

I need to get to the root directory, then navigate to the security protocols . . . find the firewall . . . bypass it . . . and then . . . yes, okay, now the emergency shutdown should be in the sysadmin folder . . . come on, come on, come on . . .

Her breath hitched.

Yes. Got it.

Her heart pounded in her chest

“Do I hear a million?” Viktor cried.

Fuck off, you bastard!

She took a deep breath and jabbed the kill switch.

The entire building plunged into darkness. Booming sounds echoed through the darkness, once, twice . . . four times.

Women screamed.

Oh fuck! What the hell did I do?