We stand there. Two people shaped by loss and failure. Two people refusing to let the past define the future.
"Thank you," I say.
She nods once. "Let's get him."
Zeke's bringing tactical support. Former SEALs who know how to hit hard and fast. We'll plan the assault, coordinate the approach, rescue those women… and make sure Sergei never kills anyone else's wife.
6
HARLOW
The clinic door opens twenty minutes later, bringing three men who move like soldiers even in civilian clothes.
I recognize the type instantly. Former Special Operations. The way they scan the room, check exits, position themselves for optimal coverage.
The lead man clasps hands with Rhys, the brief grip of old friends rather than strangers. "Got here as fast as we could."
"Appreciate it, Zeke." Rhys turns to me. "Harlow Kane, meet Zeke MacAllister. Sheriff of Glacier Hollow."
Zeke extends his hand to me. "Rhys has mentioned the trafficking routes before. Didn't realize how bad it had gotten." He gestures to the other two men. "This is Nate Barrett. Wildlife enforcement."
"Been tracking some of these routes for months," Nate says, shaking my hand. Leaner than Zeke, intense focus in his eyes. "They overlap with illegal hunting operations."
"And Caleb Knox." The third man nods at me. "Wilderness guide. I know every trail in these mountains."
Doc Sage ushers us into a back room where Irina waits, looking small and fragile wrapped in blankets despite the clinic'swarmth. Her eyes track each man as they enter, wary despite knowing they're here to help.
Rhys makes the introductions quickly, his voice gentle when he addresses Irina. "These men are going to help us. They're the best at what they do."
She nods once, fingers twisting in the blanket edge.
Zeke pulls up a chair, sitting so he's at her eye level rather than looming over her. The right move. Makes her feel safer, more willing to talk.
"Rhys told me about the location. Can you give us more details? Building layouts, guard positions, anything that'll help us plan the assault."
Irina nods and points to the topographical map Nate spreads across the exam table. Her finger trembles as it traces the area northeast from the mining site. "Here. Old logging camp. Five miles, maybe six. Main building here, where they keep most of us. Smaller building here for guards. Road comes in from south, very bad. They use trucks with big tires."
"How many guards?" Nate asks, making notes.
"Four. Sometimes five when they bring new girls or take girls away." Her accent thickens with stress. "They work in shifts. Two awake, two sleeping. Always two with guns watching."
"And the women?" I lean forward, keeping my voice calm. "How many are being held?"
"When I leave, there are eight. Maybe nine. Hard to know. They keep us in different buildings." Irina's eyes meet mine. "Some are there long time. Weeks. Others only days before they move them."
My chest tightens. Eight or nine women. Waiting. Scared. Living the nightmare I've seen too many times in case files and crime scene photos.
Caleb marks locations on the map. "Access points?"
"Only one road in. But there are trails." Irina traces routes with surprising accuracy. "The guards, they walk the trails when they check perimeter. Here and here. Every two hours."
Zeke and Nate exchange glances. Military precision in that look. They're already planning approach vectors, timing, extraction routes.
"This is good intel," Zeke says to Irina. "Really good. You're helping save those women."
For the first time since we arrived, something almost like hope flickers across her bruised face.
Rhys's phone buzzes. He steps away to answer, and I watch his expression shift from neutral to granite. His jaw locks. The hand not holding the phone curls into a fist.
