Played by Cara Dee

Seven

Life changed a bit at home over the next couple of weeks. Darius and Jayden still had their morning routine before everyone woke up, but as the date of their Vegas trip got closer, more mates showed up to train and get ready.

Darius hadn’t had breakfast alone with his family since he’d picked up Niko in Seattle.

At least they weren’t struggling to use up all the eggs in the morning… By the time breakfast was ready, the cabin was full of people. This weekend, Ryan, Elliott, and Dante were all here to work out together, and Ally and Tariq were flying in on Tuesday.

Darius and Ry had picked up a kitchen table the other day because it was getting too cold to sit on the porch. It’d happened overnight, almost.

“How many days left?” Justin asked. “Four?” He held up four fingers.

Darius chuckled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Maybe more like ten. All your fingers.”

He was relieved he hadn’t told the boy that one of the hens had been guarding her egg a few weeks ago, because nothing had come of it. Now, though, they had four crabby hens that had stopped laying eggs. So there should be a few chicks when they came back from Vegas.

He carried Justin out of the coop again and noticed that Gray and Niko were talking by the guest cabin.

Ironically, those were the two who had formed a special connection since Niko had gotten here.

Darius wasn’t surprised. He’d acknowledged Gray’s gift for taking care of people early on. He’d once taken care of the younger kids on the island when they’d been stranded, followed by Jayden and Justin. It was only natural for him to take on Nikolaj too. And Niko was opening up, little by little.

“Hey, you two.” Gray grinned at them. “Any chickens yet?”

“No, Daddy said so many days—ten!” Justin flashed all his fingers.

Darius smiled and let the boy down. Justin had been running around all morning in his new jacket that Gray’s mother had bought him.

“Daddy, I’m thirsty.” Now he was peering up at Gray.

Gray laughed softly and picked him up. “You know, sometimes it’s difficult knowing which daddy you mean.”

“You, Daddy.” Justin grinned and smashed Gray’s cheeks together. It was cute as hell. “I mean the daddy I think of, okay?”

That made Darius laugh.

“Oh, so all we have to do is learn how to read your mind.” Gray kissed the boy’s nose.

Niko smiled a little but was still uncomfortable around kids. He tended to withdraw whenever Jayden and Justin entered the room.

“They break so fucking easily,” he’d explained to Darius the other day.

“We should get going,” he told Niko. They’d stalled long enough. Or, more correctly, Darius had. He’d rather stay here and give Ryan shit for being out of shape, but he and Niko had work at the restaurant.

“All right. I’ll be ready in five.” Niko ducked into the guest cabin again.

Justin announced he wanted to go upstairs and watch a movie with Jayden, who was already up there, so he ran off too.

“Look. We’re alone.” Gray waggled his eyebrows.

Darius snorted softly and pulled him into his arms. “How long do you think we’ll get this time? A whole minute?”

“Mmm, whatever it is, it won’t be enough.” Gray leaned in and kissed him. “You haven’t complained too much, though. One might even accuse you of liking having people around. You smile a lot more now.”

Some corrections needed there, clearly. “I’m still riding the high from when we talked—when I was picking up Niko. So don’t link my happiness to having people around.”

Gray chuckled.

Darius smiled and kissed him quickly. “I’d be a dick to complain too. Since I asked them to join our mission.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Gray drawled.

Darius laughed through his nose. The kid had a point.

“I’m glad you feel better. So do I.” Gray locked his arms around Darius’s neck and sighed in contentment. “Today’s an early shift, right? You won’t be home too late?”

“I’ll be back by six.” Darius stole one more hug, a long and tight one, and another kiss for good measure.

* * *

There was surprisingly little to do behind the bar once Darius put Niko in charge of pouring wine and beer.

It was the first weekend since they’d closed the outdoor dining area for the season and returned the furniture to their storage unit, so Darius had expected a few more lunch guests indoors. But maybe the rain was keeping folks at home, and the weather was a big factor in weekend lunches.

“You look like you need something to do,” Niko said with a wry grin.

Darius shifted his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and smirked back. “Nah, I’m good.”

If he’d known it would be this chill to have an apprentice, he would’ve taken one on sooner.

Kidding aside, it felt great to see Niko come around. He wasn’t as apprehensive and closed off anymore, most of his bruises had faded, and he worked hard. Sometimes, people just needed a break. An honest chance.

The moment Darius had made Niko an official employee at Quinn’s Fish Camp, the kid hadn’t been able to hide that he was overwhelmed—in a good way.

The door opened and revealed a familiar face, and Darius grinned and rested his forearms on the bartop. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Avery chuckled and shrugged out of his windbreaker. “I heard this place had decent reviews.”

A 4.7 on Tripadvisor, thank you very much.

Ave wasn’t alone. A man their age stood next to him and tucked his umbrella into its cover.

They exchanged some quiet words and agreed to eat at the bar, so Darius snatched two glasses from under the counter and filled them with water, ice, and lemon.

“Grant, this is my friend and brother-in-law, Darius Quinn,” Avery introduced. “Darius, Grant Emsworth. Grant is taking over my history classes at Ponderosa.”

That was interesting. Avery had taught social studies up at the private high school for as long as Darius had known him, and that included history.

“Nice to meet you.” Darius dipped his chin at Grant but was more curious about Avery’s job. Did that mean he was cutting his hours?

“Likewise. It’s a fantastic place you have here,” Grant replied.

“Thank you.” Darius mustered a polite smile before shifting his gaze to Ave. “You gonna be home more, or…?” It wouldn’t surprise him, especially if they had a third kid on the way. And Elise’s business was growing every day, it seemed.

“Not yet, but that’s coming—as soon as we find a replacement for my geography class,” Ave answered. “The school raised the tuition and enrolled more students, so there are a handful of new teachers now.”

Ah. That made sense.

Darius gestured to Niko. “This’ll be good practice for you to take lunch orders. Menus are under the register.” Then he glanced back at Avery. “I thought you’d possibly knocked up my sister again.”

The look on Ave’s face said it all. He was stunned, followed by resigned, and Darius let out a laugh.

“Congratulations,” Grant said.

“We haven’t told anyone yet, so please keep it to yourself,” Avery told Darius.

That killed Darius’s amusement, because he’d expected to see happiness in his friend. “Is everything okay?”

Avery nodded once. “It is now, but her iron levels were a little low before. That’s why we chose to keep it private.”

Darius made a mental note to give Elise the business later. She was a bit of a workaholic, and that had to fucking stop until the baby was born.

After congratulating his brother-in-law, he gave Niko the floor to take their orders, and Darius made himself useful and got their drinks in order. Beer for Ave, wine for Grant.

“With a name like yours, I take it you’re a local,” Darius said casually.

Grant glanced up, a little surprised. “I am, yes. Not many make the connection these days.”

Well, history had always interested Darius. Niko looked between them, confused, so Darius elaborated.

“His ancestors founded the town.”

“Oh. Cool.” Niko shifted his weight from one foot to the next, appearing uncomfortable. He also had a staring problem, Darius noted.

“You can take the orders to the kitchen,” Darius said pointedly.

“Fuck—I mean. Yeah.” Niko flushed uncharacteristically and stalked off.

Darius stifled his smirk.

* * *

The next morning gave him a glimpse into the future and what it would be like to wake up as an eighty-five-year-old.

He hurt everywhere.

That’s what he got for letting Ryan rile him up. Not that Ry was any better. Darius had given him plenty of shit too. The two had been at it for hours after work yesterday, all night, until they couldn’t see the next station on the obstacle course.

Darius got dressed and completed his chores with a goddamn limp, and he spotted Gray with a sleepy grin in the bedroom window. Fucking hell. Thighs, calves, his hip… His spine and shoulders felt stiff too.

Jayden found him funny.

For the first time, Darius was glad their morning routine was getting shorter every day. There wasn’t much to harvest anymore. They had some late-season beans, chili peppers, and tomatoes left. Only a dozen eggs, considering four hens were out of commission.

Gray had compensated plenty, though. He’d baked muffins and pies yesterday, and the aroma hadn’t left the kitchen yet.

The cabin filled up slowly, with everyone pitching in here and there. Gray stood at the stove and plated eggs and bacon while Justin handed out muffins with a proud smile on his face.

Modesty had taken a hike somewhere along the road too, and it seemed Gray was the only one not used to having a bunch of PMCs walking around in their skivvies. Or sweats.

At the same time, an air of concentration had cloaked the property. The men were here to get ready for a fight, and they took it seriously. Strategy was discussed quietly, brows were furrowed, coffee was inhaled.

“Bread too.” Gray trapped two slices of bread between Darius’s teeth.

With Ryan, Jayden, Elliott, and Dante at the kitchen table, Darius got comfortable on the couch, and Justin was quick to follow.

“Are we interested in hearing the score from the training yesterday?” Dante asked.

“Fuck yeah,” Ryan said. “Don’t tell me Darius won.”

Dante let out a rich chuckle and retrieved a small notepad from his pockets.

“Are you gonna win, Daddy?” Justin asked curiously. He found it funnier to climb on Darius’s back than to eat his breakfast.

“Of course I am,” he replied.

Gray joined them and had both butter and cheese with him.

“Not so fast,” Dante said. “Gray and Niko were faster than all of us.”

“They don’t count,” Darius and Ryan protested at once.

It made Gray crack up.

But for chrissakes, it was like competing against athletes.

“Where is Niko anyway?” Elliott asked.

“Probably asleep, like a normal person,” Gray answered.

“Sleep is booooring!” Justin hollered.

Darius laughed softly and turned around to kiss the boy’s cheek. Then he faced Dante again. “Just count us old grunts.”

“Well, in that case…” Dante flipped a couple pages in his notepad. “Everyone was best at something—for instance, Elliott defeated us all on the rope climb, including the youngsters. But in the end, Darius and I ranked the highest with all obstacles combined, and Ryan won the shooting round by a wide margin.”

All right, it would’ve been weird if the former professional sniper didn’t bring home the target practice.

Darius accepted that.

“That was anticlimactic,” Ryan muttered.

* * *

“Oh, so you’re just gonna rest all day?” Ryan passed Darius on the porch and trailed down the steps.

“I’m waitin’ for Squeezy, motherfucker.”

Ryan laughed and called that a shitty excuse. Then he was gone, jogging down toward the obstacle course where the others waited. Gray and Niko had already completed the course a couple times as “warm-up,” and Dante was currently coaching Jayden through the pipe crawl station.

Darius pressed a hand to his left hip and winced.

Checking his watch, he estimated Willow would be here within five, so he went inside and grabbed a soda for her, coffee for himself, and returned to the porch. It was cold enough to use the heater above the table, but he wanted to sit outside.

“Dare!” Gray called from the tree line. “Why didn’t you tell me about your cousin’s fantastic taste in music?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Ryan must’ve told him.

“I don’t think fantastic means what you think it means!” Darius yelled back.

Gray laughed and went back to his workout.

Darius shook his head and lit up his first smoke for the day. There was no question about which cousin they were discussing. Casey. That punk was obsessed with the ’90s. And Gray was sorely mistaken if he thought Casey was into grunge and rock. It was straight-up boy bands and dance music. Every reunion turned into a disco when he was in charge of the music.

Speaking of, Casey would probably call today and deliver another report. He and Boone had far exceeded Darius’s expectations, which hadn’t been low by any means. Countless questions had been answered, and, more importantly, Willow had gotten a clearer image of the Langes’ stay in Vegas. Now they knew the criminal organization would be in town for about a week. Using an exclusion method, Willow had narrowed down certain search fields by crossing off guests judging by their itinerary. She followed trails and transactions to determine when and where car services would be used, when and where dinner reservations would take place, and when and where something might be going down.

Their biggest lead to the alleged auction so far, in Darius’s opinion, was the fourteen cars that’d been reserved under a name loosely linked to Alfred Lange. They were all for the same date, the Monday following the weekend of the birthday party at the Venetian.

For Willow, it’d started as a search for a needle in a haystack. But piece by piece, she was puzzling things together, and her hacker mind knew no boundaries. She’d gained access to car rental services, the Venetian’s booking system, airlines, and countless corporate intranets.

Casey and Boone’s work was filling in blanks, confirming guesses and suspicions, and providing new details. Such as information about Alfred’s son, AJ, who lived in Vegas. The cousins had been on his tail for weeks now, tracking his every movement. And today, they were breaking in to AJ’s home.

They were going to plant a transmitter so they could get audio—and they were under strict orders not to take anything. They’d get their payment soon enough. Which would bring them back to AJ’s house—once that motherfucker wasn’t breathing any longer—where they’d find plenty of valuables they could sell off.

Darius took a swig of his coffee and spotted Willow walking between the cars at the end of the property. He’d offered to come pick her up since she didn’t drive, but she’d said their aunt would drop her off. Good thinking on Willow’s part. She must’ve requested for Aunt Britt to drop her at the gate. No one in their family knew Ryan was in town. They didn’t know anyone was up here, other than Niko.

Willow walked briskly, dressed the same way as always. Baggy cargo pants with side pockets and, presumably, a too-tight top underneath her jacket. Or coat. It was a full-on winter coat, at least three sizes too large for her slight form, and it had faux fur trim around the hood.

She acknowledged their friends and family in the woods with a single glance when Ryan emerged from the tree line to greet her.

“Too many people,” she muttered as she came up on the porch. “I’ll say hello later. Hi.”

Darius smiled. “Baby girl. Have a seat.” He kicked out the chair across from him. “How are you?”

“Cold. I’m frickin’ cold.” Willow sat down and opened her coat, only to bring out a laptop. Then she swiftly pulled up the zipper again. “What happened to the summer? Don’t answer. It was a rhetorical question.”

Darius grinned. “I see you bought a new coat.” Knowing her, she’d bought more than one. Because once she found clothes she liked, she bought in bulk. Elise was similar.

“Yes.” She opened the laptop and rubbed her nose. It was a little red. “Chitchat, check. Let’s talk shop. I have further confirmation on the Lange slave bunker. There’ve been deliveries to the topside address—in the middle of the night.”

Yeah, that was some confirmation.

“How do you know?” Darius sat forward and furrowed his brow. They hadn’t installed their own surveillance yet.

“My drones need exercise,” she responded frankly.

Darius decided not to push. The last time he’d inquired about the drones, specifically the long-range ones, he’d had to endure an hour’s rambling about signal bouncing and something with her accessing oblivious people’s drone software. It’d been enough to give him a headache, although he had appreciated the off-tangent harangue on how people spoke too freely online. For instance, there were multiple drone enthusiast societies in every state, and everyone gathered online to talk about their gadgets. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet for someone like Willow to go in, catalogue their whereabouts, and gain access to their servers.

“Guys give it away for free. They love to brag. Software, hardware, you name it.”

“Do you exercise them in Vegas a lot?” Darius asked carefully.

“Lately? Every night.” She tapped on some keys and sniffled. Maybe she was coming down with a cold. “Is that Mountain Dew for me?”

“Aye.”

“Thank you.” She twisted the cap and took a sip. “Have you decided when you’re leaving? Because I happen to know exactly which cars have been reserved for the mysterious outing the Monday after the birthday weekend. In case you want to plant trackers on them.”

Darius raised his brows. “I definitely do. You’re brilliant, Squeezy.”

“I am aware.” She nodded at the laptop. “I’ll be leaving this with you, and I made it foolproof to use. You have maps, lists, a schedule, images, and my notes categorized into neat little icons on the desktop. All you have to remember is not to send or receive any messages on here. Keep it offline at all times, no exceptions.”

That was doable. Darius didn’t even care about the jab at him being the fool. He was much more interested in finding out exactly how much Willow had accomplished, because it seemed like there was a lot.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re declaring yourself done?” he asked.

Willow grinned a little and turned the laptop his way. “Because I am. My work continues until you’re home safe and sound again, but the foundation is there. The birthday party begins at six PM on Saturday, dress code formal, four-course dinner, live band, seventeen scheduled speeches by close friends and family—and absolutely none of it matters, because nothing interesting will go down that night. In fact, I’d call it stupid to even go near the hotel and risk exposure.” She paused. “Casey’s groundwork has been a huge help. I’ve tracked all the guests booked into the Langes’ block of suites, and only seven of them are still in town past Sunday. The rest will have gone home—many of them family members. And worth mentioning is that all these guests—all the people invited to the party—have fully booked schedules starting the day they arrive. From shows and concerts to restaurant reservations and a poker event. Even a shopping spree with a personal shopper. Their stay in Vegas is planned to the last detail, and I would’ve become suspicious if it weren’t for the fact that the majority of the guests aren’t linked to anything criminal. It’s a big family. They have two professional planners working with them to make sure everything is running smoothly.”

Darius was impressed, and that was putting it mildly. He clicked on one of the icons on the laptop, and an hour-to-hour schedule popped up. It had everything. Alfred Lange’s wife was getting a manicure with a handful of other female guests on Saturday morning at ten. On Sunday, a private dining room at the Bellagio had been booked for brunch.

“All this work and we’re just gonna ignore it,” Darius murmured to himself.

“To be fair, had we not known so much about the birthday party, we would’ve been blind during the operation,” Willow reasoned. “Now we know that only seven of the hundreds of birthday guests are directly involved with Alfred’s business—and that’s not counting security. Each one of those seven men has their own security detail. I’ve found their rooms too. They’re sharing a couple suites at the same hotel but under a different name. So that’s an estimated fourteen guys showing up at the underground compound. But there’s more.” She leaned forward. “Click on the file labeled ‘Compound Attendees.’”

Darius did as instructed and was surprised to see so many names pop up. Christ, there had to be at least twenty-five.

Twenty-seven, in fact.

“As you can see, many of those I suspect will attend the auction aren’t part of the birthday celebration at all,” Willow said. “Only the seven I mentioned earlier are on the guest list. The rest are coming in for just the auction.”

“How did you track them?”

“Not without some shouting at my computers,” she responded wryly. “But in one way or another, they’re meeting up with Alfred or one of his associates during the stay.” She rose from her chair to come join Darius at his side instead. “This guy, for example—Stanley Rose. He’s one of the players for Alfred’s poker event. He flies into Vegas from Houston on Saturday night and doesn’t have a return ticket. However, the guy he’s flying in with—presumably his security—has reserved a rental car for a week later, which, according to the booking, will be returned in Chicago.” Certainly enough to raise red flags. “Or that one—Kai Yu, a cousin of Alfred’s wife. Isn’t it weird she’s not invited to the party? She’s traveling to Vegas the day after the party, and her husband’s name is on the reservation for all the cars I think they’ll use to drive the attendees to the auction.”

Darius shook his head slowly, not for the first time in complete awe of his sister.

He would’ve lost his patience.

“As soon as all the attendees are accounted for at the auction, I would’ve just torched the place,” she muttered.

As tempting as that sounded—and it really fucking did—it wouldn’t be a good strategy, he kept telling himself.

“We blew up the yacht and set Jackie’s kidnapper’s house on fire,” Darius replied. “Three fires is a well-established pattern.”

Even so… More and more lately, he wondered if they were taking complicated measures for no reason. The FBI would suspect involvement from an outside enemy. The carbon monoxide poisoning made less sense now that they knew for certain there was no other way to enter the compound swiftly without blowing up the armored door.

“I guess that’s true.” Willow took a drink from her soda. “Anyway. I wish I had any intel on the victims’ whereabouts, but—fucking nada. Not even a guess.” It bothered her a great deal; that was easy to tell.

“You’ve done more than enough, baby girl. This is where we take over.”

He continued reading the list of possible attendees for the auction, committing the names to his memory, and vowed to kill every last one of them.

There was no viable reason for a person to show up at this event and be innocent. They knew what it was about. They were part of a modern-day slave trade, whether they worked security for a boss or they bought another human being.

“I wish I could keep this from Gray,” he admitted. “I wish it with all my fucking heart.”

Because regardless of the reasoning, having the blood of twenty-seven men on his hands would leave a mark that couldn’t be erased.

He already had enough blood on his hands.

“Why?” Willow asked curiously. “After everything he went through, you’re giving him the chance to rescue God knows how many innocent lives.”

Darius couldn’t help but chuckle. He loved his sister for so many reasons, and this was one. She didn’t see the deaths of murderers. She saw the lives they would save.

“You’re right.”

“I usually am, big brother. And I ask you again. When are you leaving? Because if we coordinate things well, I can get access to the surveillance at the rental place and tamper with the footage so no one finds out you put trackers on fourteen of their vehicles. But I suggest you bring backup.”

Darius raked his teeth across his bottom lip and glanced out toward the forest. It was a solid idea, and something he’d done before. With Tariq.

“I’ll ask Tariq when he flies in,” he said. “He’s good at being invisible.”

“Okay.”

“Either way, I head out on Wednesday night,” he went on. “I’m bringing the boys with me.” After talking to Casey about it, they’d agreed it would be good to mask it as a family visit. Darius would simply be in town to visit his aunt and cousins.

He hummed when he thought about something. If they were ignoring everything concerning the birthday party, it meant Darius would have no reason to run any errands in Vegas. In other words, there would be no tracks to cover. Their covert operation would be just a tad more clandestine, which he couldn’t be happier about.

And…fuck. He couldn’t stop thinking about their strategy. Things had changed enough that what had seemed perfectly logical in the beginning now felt…too messy. For instance, trying to cover all this up as a carbon monoxide poisoning caused by human error in a bunker that was poorly ventilated made sense when there was a risk of footage popping up all over the place that proved Darius had not only been to Vegas, but at the actual hotel of the birthday party.

Now, that wasn’t an issue. The Feds wouldn’t be able to pin anything on him based solely on his whereabouts.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he retrieved it to see an incoming call from his cousin.

He answered it. “Casey.”

Casey swallowed audibly. “I, uh… We’re at his house. I found something. Can we talk?”

Darius frowned, picking up on the urgency, and held the phone away from him. “You might wanna listen in,” he told Willow quietly. “They’re at AJ’s house.” Then he held the phone closer, between the two of them. “Something wrong?”

“I found photos in his office,” Casey said. “I’d call them mug shots, but I have a feeling they’re all innocent.”

Fuck.

Willow quickly grabbed the laptop and pulled up an empty document.

“I think they’re trafficking victims,” Casey went on. “Men and women—all on the young side, maybe older teens, early twenties—beaten up, starved, holding up signs with serial numbers.”

Darius closed his eyes briefly and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Then Casey spoke up again, seemingly anxious to get it all out as fast as possible, so the words came out in a rush. He was promising that he was being careful, not leaving any prints, and that he was taking pictures of every photo.

He guessed there were around fifty of them.

In the meantime, Willow wrote down the information, and Darius’s head started spinning. It spun back to the days when he’d been searching for Gray. And then how he’d found his knucklehead. Beaten up, malnourished—having been missing for months at that point. So…that meant something.

Darius cleared his throat. “If they look malnourished in the photos, it’s safe to assume their organization starts keeping records once the kids have been held hostage for a while.” He caught Willow’s nod of agreement as she typed on the laptop. “Maybe there’s a hub of sorts in Nevada that they go through before they’re sold off or shipped to an auction.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, more theories coming at him quickly. Hell, for all he knew, the kids being auctioned off soon could already be at the compound. But that was a conversation for Willow, not Casey. “I’m glad you called me, though. It might change our plans a bit. Get ready just in case. Maybe you and Boone will have to go in sooner and clear the house.” Actually—wait. The photos. They needed evidence for the future. “You know what—it’s great you’re taking pictures. I want you to make them good. No glares or anything—because if the evidence somehow disappears in the next several days, we’ll need you to replant it.”

A headache set in, and Darius rubbed at his temple. There was suddenly too much to rethink and consider.

“I’ll document all of them,” Casey promised.

“Good job. Send them to me later.”

He paused. “I’ll send them to Willow. Unless you’ve learned how to accept encrypted files that fly under the NSA radar.”

Willow snorted under her breath, amused.

Darius wasn’t there yet. “Uh. Send them to Willow.”

After wrapping up the call, he rose from his seat and started pacing along the porch.

“Why would this change our plans?” Willow wondered.

It was complicated, and it was about Gray. Even the most vivid and detailed plans held a tinge of “we’re not there yet.” Plans weren’t reality. It was easy to prepare—a lot harder to follow through. And if Gray saw those pictures, there was no knowing how he’d react. Because if anything made shit real for him, it would be seeing the victims before he could rescue them. Darius had learned that when they’d prepared to save Jackie. For weeks, Gray had been itching to go.

“This is between you and me, Willow,” he heard himself say. “He can’t know yet.”

“Who, and why—you mean Gray.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Because I don’t think he’ll handle it well. Probably the same with Niko.” Then he rubbed his forehead and thought about the magnitude of the operation that just grew in size too. Around fifty photos of victims… Jesus fucking Christ, they would have to be prepared to face anything. There was no way of knowing just how many victims would be at the compound.

What would happen to the victims who weren’t present at the auction once the organization was wiped out?

During therapy sessions, Gray had shared horrid memories of cages and crates.

Darius blew out a harsh breath and pulled out his smokes.