Then utterly, perfectly calm.
The man drags her toward the booth where the three traffickers sit.
"Here's the problem one," he says, loud enough for me to hear now. "Won't stop crying. Making the others nervous."
"Sedate her," one of them says.
"Already did. Still crying. Starting to think she's more trouble than she's worth."
My vision tunnels.
More trouble than she's worth.
Like she's not a human child.
Like her fear doesn't matter.
Hakon's hand lands on my arm. "Don't."
But I'm already standing.
Already moving.
Fenrir sees me, starts to rise.
Too late.
I'm across the room in three strides.
"Hey," I say to the man holding the girl. "You dropped this."
I hold out a twenty-dollar bill.
He looks confused, releases the girl's arm for just a second to take it.
That's all I need.
I grab the girl, pull her behind me, put myself between her and the men.
The traffickers are on their feet now, hands going to weapons.
"The fuck do you think you're doing?" one of them snarls.
"Leaving. With her."
"Like hell?—"
Fenrir's there now, Hakon and Ulf flanking him.
Four of us.
Three of them.
Plus the man who brought the girl.
The bar's gone quiet.
Everyone is fucking watching.
