"What the fuck were you thinking?" Fenrir's in my face as soon as we're in the lot. "We were supposed to observe! Gather intel! Not start a goddamn firefight!"
"I couldn't leave her."
"So you compromised the entire run?"
"I saved a child."
"And alerted the network that someone's onto them!" Fenrir's furious. "They'll scatter now. Move their operation. We'll lose the chance to take down the whole ring because you couldn't follow orders!"
"Then I guess I can't follow orders where kids are concerned."
We stare at each other.
The girl whimpers against my shoulder.
Fenrir's expression shifts—from rage to something else.
Understanding, maybe.
Or resignation.
"Get her in the truck," he says finally. "We're leaving."
But before we can move, the bar door slams open.
The traffickers emerge, weapons drawn.
"Give us the girl!" one shouts.
"Not happening," I call back.
They spread out, flanking us.
Hakon and Ulf take position, weapons up.
This is about to get bloody.
Then headlights sweep across the lot—another vehicle pulling in fast.
Local cops.
Fuck.
The traffickers see them too, curse, start backing toward their own trucks.
"This isn't over!" one shouts at me. "We'll find you!"
They peel out, tires squealing.
The cops pull up, lights flashing.
Two deputies emerge, hands on weapons.
"What's going on here?" one demands.
Fenrir steps forward, hands visible, non-threatening.
"That little girl was being trafficked. We took her from those men who just left. We're taking her to safety."
