Page 15

CHAPTER 15

Rusty

Darkness slammed down like a hammer blow, plunging the entire complex into inky blackness.

“Fuck!” Rusty’s eyes strained to adjust to the blackness as his mind raced to catch up to what the hell was going on.

Son of a bitch! Sienna must’ve shut down the whole building.

Now they were blind, and he had a gut-wrenching feeling those loud bangs were security doors slamming into place, trapping them inside. But if they were trapped in this hellhole, then that meant those bastards were, too.

I need to take out these assholes before they break free.

Rusty’s mind split three ways: Did Sienna cut the power and the live feed? How will I rescue those women and get them out of here? How many men will I have to kill?

“What the fuck’s going on!” Wang’s voice boomed.

The fury in his voice made Rusty grin.

Take that, asshole.

The trafficking victims’ high-pitched shrieks pierced the air, clawing right through Rusty’s chest. Those poor women had already been through enough. Clenching his jaw, he fought to tack a plan into place, and he searched the dark corridor that ran around the perimeter of the stage for tangos.

“Sienna,” he whispered.

No reply.

He didn’t have a problem taking out the men working for Wang, but he no longer wanted to kill Wang. He wanted to take Wang alive. That bastard needed to pay for his sins. Everyone needed to know what a lying scumbag he was. Wang was connected to some very high people, politicians included, and Rusty had a feeling Wang’s network ran very deep. Heads were going to roll.

Flashlights flicked to life from the stage, casting a mad dance of shadows on the walls around the atrium and onto the balcony balustrading above. The sudden illumination was like a tactical map, pinpointing the positions of every one of those fuckers. If Rusty was on his own, he would take a high position with a good vantage point and pick them off one by one.

“You bastards are dead,” Wang hollered. “You hear me! Dead!”

“Right back at you, asshole,” Rusty hissed under his breath.

And every other fucker working for you.

Itching to get moving, he peered out the doorway again, searching the darkness for approaching tangos. But the flashlights were still coming from the stage and spearing beams everywhere like it was a fucking nightclub. As the men searched the darkness for him and Sienna, they barked orders at each other, making it obvious there was no clear leader amongst them.

Good. Let the chaos begin.

The darkness was his advantage—move undetected, strike without warning.

But he wasn’t alone. He had Sienna to protect, and those young victims, and they had to find Pickle. That changed everything. “Sienna,” he whispered again, keeping his voice low and urgent.

Where is she?

Thundering boots sounded outside, growing louder by the second. He chanced a peek out of the doorway.

Fuck! Bobbing beams confirmed two armed guards were charging toward the server room.

His mind raced with tactical options, which were too fucking narrow for his liking. A surprise retaliation was his best bet, and if he kept it silent, it could buy him time to figure out his next move.

He pulled his knife from the sheath on his vest and gripped the handle, ready to take out the first man to charge through the door before he knew what hit him.

He drilled his focus onto the thundering footsteps, judging how long he had. Ten seconds.

A hand brushed against his back. Sienna! He shoved her away from him with his free hand.

“Get back,” he growled, his voice low and deadly.

He didn’t dare look around, he needed to focus on the attack. His hand squeezed around his knife handle, determined to both protect Sienna and eliminate these ruthless bastards.

The flashlights closed in, their stark beams carving through the darkness. Those flashlights painted targets on their chests. Stupid fuckers. A cold smile spread across his lips. Hopefully, they were all as dumb as this pair.

Behind him, Sienna’s harsh breaths gave life to the shadows, a desperate rhythm that echoed the pounding of his heart. Like a ticking time bomb, every second counted, and every strike he made needed to be swift and accurate.

The first asshole barged through the doorway. Rusty moved with deadly precision, and his knife flashed in the beam of light in a swift and silent blow that struck the first man down. Before he even knew what hit him, the guard crumpled to the ground, his wide eyes frozen in shock as his flashlight spun across the floor, casting bouncing shadows across the walls.

Rusty’s movements were lethal and economical. As he readied to take on the second man, Sienna’s gasps echoed through the darkness behind him, sapping his focus way too much.

He locked eyes on the doorway, honing his senses. The next guard charged into the room without any recon, a reckless move that spoke of desperation and inexperience. Rusty lunged, aiming for the bastard’s throat. The man was quick, dodging to the side with a speed that belied his bulk.

The guard yanked up his gun, knocking the knife from Rusty’s grip. The blade skittered across a desk and vanished.

Fuck! Rusty jabbed the guy’s throat. When he buckled forward, Rusty twisted the guard’s wrist until the gun clattered to the floor. The guard stepped back, raising his fists, and his face contorted with rage.

“Don’t do it!” Rusty urged.

The brute grinned before lunging at Rusty, hitting him with a surprise jab shot that connected with Rusty’s jaw, sending a burst of pain through his teeth.

Soda’s snarls echoed through the darkness. Her eyes glowed like lanterns in the dim light as she moved in to protect her master. Rusty raised a hand, his palm facing her, and she froze, her ears perked up in response to his silent command. He couldn’t risk the asshole screaming and drawing attention to the rest of his team. He indicated to Soda to heel, and as she trotted behind him, her eyes never left the brute.

Blood pooled over Rusty’s tongue, the metallic taste igniting a firestorm of fury within him. He spat it out and locked eyes on the brute. “Last warning, asshole,” he growled.

The guard, fueled by bravado or stupidity, snapped his neck side to side with a sneer twisting his face.

Fucking idiot.

With a swift, deadly motion, Rusty lunged, his fists flying in a flurry of precision punches. The guard stumbled back, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to defend himself, but Rusty was relentless . . . and fucking angry.

Rusty moved on autopilot. Every punch was a calculated strike, aimed at the brute’s most vulnerable spots. Throat. Solar plexus. Kidneys. Nose. Rusty closed his hands around the brute’s throat. His fingers dug deep into his flesh. The brute’s eyes bulged, and his face turned red as Rusty’s grip tightened.

He clawed at Rusty’s arms and his nails scraped against the fabric of his sleeves. Rusty squeezed harder.

As the brute’s struggles weakened, Rusty’s gaze flicked to Sienna. They locked eyes and the only sound was the brute’s labored breathing. Then, with a final, crushing squeeze, the body went limp.

Rusty released his grip, and as he scanned the darkness with his senses still on high alert, his gaze landed on Sienna again. She was illuminated by the faint glow of a flashlight, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if trying to shield her mind from the brutality of what was happening.

Fuck. Rusty’s gut twisted with anger and regret. She shouldn’t be exposed to this kind of violence and ugliness.

But this was just the beginning. More scumbags were going to meet the same fate.

Rusty shoved the brute’s body aside, his movements economical and detached as he stood, chest heaving with exhaustion and his jaw throbbing with pain. He was furious that the guard had got him and pissed off that he’d underestimated the man’s speed. His anger simmered in a low burn that threatened to sear his brain.

He glared down at the brute’s lifeless body. “I warned you,” he muttered. “Fucking idiot.”

Turning to Sienna, he found her in the dim light, frozen like a statue.

Her jaw hung slack, her eyes wide with shock as they flicked from the bodies to him. “Oh my god.” The words were barely a whisper, and her voice trembled as if weighed down. Her gaze locked with his, searching—maybe for answers, maybe to understand who he really was.

Rusty felt the unspoken question in her expression. She’d finally seen him for what he truly was. Not the man she used to know, but the soldier—the killer—shaped by decades of conflict, military training and survival.

A pang of uncertainty shot through him, sharp yet familiar.

What if she doesn’t approve of the man I’ve become?

He clenched his fists, shoving the thought aside. It didn’t matter what she thought. He’d kill every last one of these bastards if it meant keeping her alive.

And yet, despite his resolve, a dull ache seeped into his chest. If his actions repulsed her and she saw a monster instead of the man she once trusted . . .

No. He couldn’t afford to care. Shoving the bullshit aside, he grabbed his knife and the assholes’ weapons, slotting them into his tactical vest. He turned off one flashlight and grabbed the other.

“What the fuck is going on?” Wang’s voice boomed from outside the doorway, his rage and frustration palpable. “Get those bastards!”

Adrenaline surged through Rusty’s veins. Time to move. They had to get out of the server room before those bastards came looking for their comrades. He turned to Sienna. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low and deadly as he grabbed her hand. He turned off the light, plunging them back into darkness. “Soda, heel.”

Soda padded silently to his side, nuzzling her nose to his hand.

Gripping Sienna’s palm to his, he pulled her to the doorway and peered around the edge, straining to see in the darkness. The dim glow of a single flashlight cast eerie shadows on the walls, making it seem like the darkness itself was moving. Women’s sniffles and pounding boots echoed off the marble floors in a sickening soundtrack that made it impossible to track the sources of the sounds.

He could just make out the ghostly outline of the marble stairway in the dim glow. A woman’s shriek bounced all over the place, and Sienna jolted. A man barked orders, and when a woman yelled back at him, her defiance convinced Rusty it was the Colombian woman who had saved Pickle.

His heart went out to her.

A new burst of chaos erupted from the darkness–women crying, men shouting.

This was their chance to move. Returning to the balcony above seemed like the best option—it offered a clearer view and the advantage of height.

Rusty leaned into Sienna’s ear. “We’re going back upstairs. Stay right beside me and do exactly as I say.”

“Okay,” she breathed.

He did a quick, sweeping scan of the darkness, searching for movement. Satisfied, he squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.” He pulled her into the hallway, and her fingers dug deep into his skin as they raced back to the stairs.

The blackness seemed to swallow them whole, obscuring everything. It was both a blessing and a curse—hiding them from their enemies but also making it impossible to see what was coming.

At the base of the stairs, Rusty pulled Sienna around the banister. “Go.”

As she flew up the stairs in tandem with Rusty, Soda slinked in front of them, taking point. One word, and she would take out any man who got in their way.

“Will somebody turn on the fucking lights!” Wang’s voice echoed up to them, shrill and unhinged.

Rusty smiled. They still hadn’t figured out what Sienna had done. Good.

Sienna tightened her grip on his hand and as they reached the top of the stairs, he pulled her along the corridor that skirted around the entire circular balcony. Soda’s panting was the only way he knew she was still there.

“Keep moving,” Rusty growled, scanning the area below, trying to see the tangos in the darkness.

Sienna’s breaths came in ragged gasps, and her hand trembled in Rusty’s grip, yet she kept pace with him. Her determination surprised the heck out of him. Many civilians would be a mess after what she’d been through, but not Sienna. She was strong. Rusty’s respect for her grew with every step.

Rusty pulled Sienna to a stop, and they ducked down next to the railing to scan the area below. The dim light was punctuated by the guards’ flashlights casting eerie shadows up the walls. The six women were being herded onto the stage again, and even in the scattered lights, their pale faces and trembling bodies showed how fragile they were.

Rusty counted five armed guards surrounding the women, and two more positioned beyond the stage. But that was just the ones he could see.

Where the hell was Wang?

Ah, there. Near the dead monitors, Wang’s face glowed an eerie blue in the light of his phone, his features twisted into a snarl as he barked into the receiver. If Rusty had a sniper rifle, he would put a bullet through that bastard’s gut right now, no hesitation. Not a kill shot, but one designed to make him hurt like hell.

Who was Wang calling? More men? More guns?

The thought chilled Rusty’s blood. They were already outgunned and outnumbered. The last thing they needed was reinforcements showing up.

His eyes searched desperately for exit signs in the darkness but found none. The emergency lights should be on. That’s odd.

“What do we do?” Sienna whispered, gripping the railings like prison bars as she stared at the scene below.

“Find a way out of here.” Rusty’s mind raced through escape scenarios, each one worse than the last.

Sienna’s fingers dug into his arm. “What? We can’t just abandon them. We have to help those women.”

Rusty’s temper flared, hot and angry. “I’m not abandoning them, Sienna. I’m getting help for them. We need to get out of here and bring Charlie Team in to finish this. I can’t see any exits. Can you?”

Her gaze swept the shadows. “No.”

“Did you mean to cut all power?”

She shot him a look. “I didn’t exactly have time to read the manual on that kill switch.”

“But is that normal . . . to kill everything?”

She hesitated. “Depends on the security setup. Although trapping everyone inside seems dangerous.”

“Don’t think worker safety made their priority list. Bastards.”

“You should’ve seen the men on the monitors.” Her voice hardened. “Creeps.”

Rusty’s head snapped toward her. “You saw their faces?”

“Yeah. Six of them.” Sienna’s voice trembled with disgust. “Clear as day. High-def feeds, all being backed up to those servers. And full audio. The setup was professional—motion tracking and facial recognition running in real-time. Wang wasn’t just recording, he was cataloging everything. Names, dates, timestamps, IP addresses.”

“Shit.” His jaw clenched. “So they weren’t even trying to hide who they were?”

“They didn’t know.” She glanced at him. “That system was running in stealth mode. Hidden processes, encrypted storage. These guys probably thought they were bidding in a private club. But Wang was building files on every single one of them. Including payment records.”

“Shit! He’s getting leverage.” Rusty’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Sounds like he’s stockpiling blackmail on some very powerful men.”

“One of them was Dr. Howard Whitney Williams,” Sienna said, her voice hardening. “The pastor from that megachurch in?—”

“Fuck me.” Rusty’s breath hitched.

“What?”

“That’s Sarah’s husband. Grace’s father.” He gestured toward the women below.

“Jesus.” Sienna gripped the railing, her knuckles white as she studied the women in the room. “Her own father was bidding?”

“Sick bastard.” Rusty’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding. The image of Sarah Williams at the police station flashed through his mind—her trembling hands clutching her phone, showing him a photo of Grace while begging for help.

“That’s beyond sick.” The horror in Sienna’s voice mirrored the storm raging in his head.

“This whole thing is sick,” Rusty said. But after Colombia, nothing surprised him anymore. He’d seen fathers sell their own children there, too, and he’d learned long ago that nothing shocked him anymore.

“Man down! Man down!” The shout echoed off the marble walls below.

Sienna stiffened beside him.

“Shit! They’ve found the server room.”

Heavy boots thundered across the stage.

“Hicks and Temple are dead. Jesus Christ!” The panic in the guard’s voice echoed up to them. “Temple’s throat was cut. There’s blood everywhere!”

Multiple footsteps joined the chaos, and orders were barked in overlapping Mandarin and English. Flashlight beams sliced through the darkness like frantic searchlights.

Wang appeared on the stage, positioning himself behind the line of terrified women.

Fuck, he’s using them as a human shield.

His face tilted up toward the balcony, and Rusty yanked Sienna back into the shadows. Holding his breath, he eased forward for a better look. Even in the dim light, Wang’s expression burned with cold fury.

“Shit! What do we do?” Sienna’s whisper was hot against his ear.

“I’ll take those guards out one by one. Then Wang.” The ice in his voice surprised even him.

After years in the military, he’d never minded being the cold professional. But now, seeing Sienna flinch at his tone, it bothered him. She was getting under his skin in ways he couldn’t afford. Not here. Not now.

“They’re scared now,” he added, softening his voice. “Scared men make mistakes.”

But Wang wasn’t scared. Not even close. Despite the fury etched on his face, his posture remained calculated, controlled. The way he positioned himself behind those women. How he methodically swept the shadows. These weren’t the actions of a man losing control. If anything, he looked like he was waiting for something. Or someone.

That put the fear of God into Rusty. Wang had resources and connections that went deeper than anyone knew.

Who did he call?

Local Yakuza? His government contacts? The calm certainty in Wang’s expression suggested backup was already on the way.

Rusty’s mind churned. Time was slipping through their fingers. If Wang’s reinforcements arrived before they could finish this, it was over. He’d seen enough missions go sideways to know exactly how bad this could get.

And with Sienna here . . . his chest tightened. He can’t fail. Not now. Not with her life on the line.

“What is it?” she whispered, maybe reading the tension racing through him.

“Wang.” Rusty kept his voice low. “He’s too calm. Something’s up.”

She curled her hair behind her ear. “Like what?”

“No idea, but we need to find you somewhere safe to hide.”

“What? No! I’m helping you. I’ve had self-defense training. I know what?—”

“Sienna! These men are armed and dangerous?—”

“No shit. I can see that. But you can’t take them all alone.”

“I’ve got Soda.”

“Great, but I’m not sitting this out.”

He growled. “Christ.”

“They’re on the balcony!” Wang’s voice boomed through the darkness. “Kill them!”

Flashlight beams swept toward their position, stabbing through the shadows like searchlights. The pounding of boots echoed from both up both sets of marble stairs to the balcony, growing louder with every second.

Rusty’s stomach twisted as the metallic clicks of weapons being readied ricocheted off the walls. The men were armed, closing in fast and cutting off the escape routes.

“Move!” Rusty barked, grabbing Sienna’s arm and yanking her behind a pillar just as a gunshot cracked through the air.

The gunshot rang in his ears as chunks of marble exploded inches from his face, pelting them with shards of stone. Sienna shrieked and pressed her back against the pillar. He covered her with his body, his chest flush against hers, feeling each terrified tremor course through her.

Clenching his jaw, adrenaline surged through him as he peeked around the edge. Flashlights danced wildly in the darkness, converging on their hiding spot as boots thundered closer.

The men were coming from both sides, boxing them in like prey.

Rusty raced for a plan, his mind a frantic blur. He had to save Sienna.

But as she trembled against him, her fear cut through him like a knife, and for the first time in years, he felt something he’d thought he’d buried long ago—absolute dread.