Page 49 of Tear Me Down (Descent to Darkness Trilogy #2)
Chapter twenty-one
Damien
It only took Carter twenty minutes to get there, and it only took me five to get changed and loaded up with ammo, smoke grenades, and other gear after a few choice words with Carter.
He and Ashia are to sit at the bar with his laptop and not move an inch.
I want them close to the door and visible from the outside at all times.
Whatever it takes to get this shit over with and get her out of there, I’ll do it.
The MC has balls, but Viking and I are going to have some words and fists when I get back.
The drive to the two-story home is long and silent with clear tensions in the air.
I don’t necessarily trust Grease, but I sure as hell respect him, and that’s what I’m going to have to hold onto for now.
While his club may get into some questionable shit, he does also help the community with drives and safe haven projects for women who fall victim to domestic violence.
It’s not as intricate as we are, but he helps the women hide until they are safe and get through their court dates, and for that alone, he’s earned some reverence.
Once we get close enough, I park about a half mile away in the tree line surrounding the gravel road and hike the rest of the way up to the house.
Grease and I don't speak, and I’d rather we keep it that way.
The stealthier we can do this, the better.
Plus, I don’t need some sob story about his VP and his wife.
A woman is in trouble, and that’s enough reason for me to be involved, but the extra information is nothing but annoying at this point.
Once we approach the spot, I spend two minutes surveying the perimeter.
A few abandoned cars, feed containers, newer looking crates that I’m assuming weren’t here before, and a couple of hay bales lay out on the property.
There’s about six men outside total, trekking around the house and staying in the same spot for about twenty seconds, then moving again.
Much more intricate than I would think, especially if this is supposed to be some type of manufacturing location.
However, my mind is starting to lean towards other conclusions.
This is way too remote, and for this house to be so far away from society, where no one could possibly stumble upon it, there’s a lot more protection than necessary.
I unload the duffle from my shoulder and open it, looking over all of the components before I start assembling the thermal camera and drone.
“What’s all of that?” Grease whispers as he kneels beside me.
“Thermal imaging so I can get a good look inside. That’s a lot of coverage to be guarding one person or a small den.
” Once the camera is set up, I pull out and configure the remote screen for the drone, making sure its targeting software is exact before I let it warm up.
Using the space on the pad of my thumb, I hold it out to calculate the distance between us, the house, and the height I need.
Once I'm confident in the coordinates, I input them and watch as the drone quietly flies into the air, high above the trees, and makes its way over the house. During the men’s twenty-second rotation, they don’t notice the movement, and the fact that they’re so confident in their solidarity might actually help us.
With the drone in place, I link the connection between the drone and the camera to see visuals inside the house pop onto the remote.
“I'm not going to lie, D, that’s some quality shit,” he mumbles again, actually impressed.
“Carter and I designed it,” I whisper back and study the feed, instantly getting a sick feeling in my stomach as I see the multiple red figures move on the screen.
Some are clearly standing tall and walking around, while others are either hunched over in fetal positions or so still that I’m not sure the tech is working properly. “This isn’t Dust.”
“What do you mean?” He leans over to look at the same images I'm observing. Six girls, all confined in rooms individually. Three more standing bodies inside, clearly comfortable in the surroundings, one being a woman.
“It’s a fucking groom house,” I seethe, feeling my previous anger resurface.
Why would they target Maria? Traffickers don’t normally dig into their captives’ personal lives.
They may stalk their targets for a day or two once they’ve been chosen, but nothing that could potentially get them caught.
It’s likely they didn’t know that she was the wife of an MC Vice President.
Either that, or they did know, and chose to take her anyway.
She’s a high-profile target in an area like ours, and it’s not like she was a random woman walking down the street.
My guess is if they do know who she is, that they wanted her for a reason, and now I just have to find out what that reason is.
“Groom house?” Grease asks, having never heard the term, clearly.
“Trafficking. Before they sell off the girls, they train them to be submissive to whom they’re sold.
This is either where they break them, or this is just a pit stop.
My guess? It’s where they’re keeping them until they’re either sold on the internet or taken to auction.
” I raise my hand to my earpiece as I put in for the drone to return to the same path as it went.
“Carter, send Zeke with some men to pick up a van, Dani, and Lauren. We’ve got six from what I can count.
Tell him to follow the GPS location of the charger, and we’ll signal when we’re on our way. ”
“You got it, D,” Carter says into my earpiece.
“What’s the plan?” Grease asks, already reaching for his gun.
I pocket my pistol and pull out my knife, already eyeing him like his impulsive behavior is going to get us killed.
“You got a silencer?”
“No?” he replies like I asked him if he had a pet unicorn. I know the MC doesn’t normally do things like this, but going in loud and blazing isn’t the answer here.
“Okay, then knives only. You see the opening to the cellar?” He nods. “We’re going to have to use that as cover, as well as the steps on the other side of the house. We need to be quiet with this. Traffickers get easily spooked and will either run with the girls or kill them before they’re caught.”
“Well, I can stab a mother fucker.”
I groan in agitation.
“I said quietly , Grease. You'll have twenty seconds to take care of one and hide him before their rotation. If we draw their attention, they might kill the women.” He nods more confidently, sensing my seriousness, and pulls out a knife. “You take the cellar entrance, there’s more cover. Follow the tree line, soundlessly , and make your way over. Hide behind that old feed container for cover. In between the next rotation, get into position.” He nods and we part.
Once I observe my side, I wait behind the trees until their next rotation, then move to an abandoned car for the duration of that alternation, only to move to the staircase during the next.
As the first man rounds the corner, I step out, harshly grasping his mouth and running the edge of my blade across his throat.
I allow the contact to thrust me into momentum, and immediately throw me into my comfortable, murderous mindset.
Everything around me comes into focus, and I know the game is on.
There’s nothing playful about this scenario, though.
It’s calculated and methodical, a step into enemy territory where the ultimate reward is saving lives.
The moment the contact seizes, I plunge my knife into his left lung twice in quick, short pumps.
That way, his lungs can’t pull air and give him the chance to give me away.
I drag his lifeless body back beside the stairs and wait for the next, only to be startled by the side door opening.
A young girl runs out, sprinting for the tree line and crying while three men follow closely behind her.
“Get back here, you little bitch!” one of the men shouts as the two others tackle her to the ground, and the moment they touch her naked body, that calm, strategic part of me disappears.
I mutter to myself as I run up and stab the man standing behind the others, only to pull my silenced pistol and shoot the other two as they stand, reacting to the commotion.
“What’s going on?” a man calls from around the corner, but not in my direction, thankfully, and seems to be onto Grease instead.
“Call for back up!” Masculine screams ring from the other side of the house, and I hear gunshots from an obvious altercation.
Fucking Grease should’ve just stayed hidden, but there was no way that he could’ve known what was happening on this side of the house, and I imagine that this woman’s attempted escape set off some alarms. I grab the girl’s arm and start to run with her back towards the house, trying not to hurt her, but needing her to comply.
“Stay down!” I tell her as I place her next to the stairs and aim at the man rounding the corner, pulling my trigger simultaneously and watching him drop to the ground before I grab her arm and run with her inside the house.
Now that our presence is out in the open, we need to move quickly, and her best chance is with us rather than trying to maneuver around whatever backup the traffickers have coming.
I keep my gun pointed as we enter and carefully look around for the figures I saw before, but they’re nowhere to be found—which is both relieving and concerning. “Grease?” I yell out
“Here, D!” He runs up to us with blood covering his vest and t-shirt, showing the struggle he’s had in the past few minutes. The moment he sees the girl, he grabs her on the shoulders and shakes her, borderline violently. “Maria? Where’s Maria?”
“Who?” The girl’s voice shakes, she’s so scared, and she looks up at him with wide, terrified eyes. I push him back and keep a respectable distance, sensing she needs the space.