The tech guy groaned.
Emily spun. “Crap! He’s waking up!”
She searched the floor for the flashlight, dreading having to hit him again. But if it came down to them or him, she’d do it—gladly.
“Well, well. Two naughty birds have escaped their cages.”
Emily yelped and spun as Gaby swiveled.
Enzo stood just inside the door, Benny behind him.
Bolting from the chair, Gaby sprinted for the exit. It wasn’t well-thought-out—the odds of getting by the two of them slim to none. Benny easily caught her mid-step and slammed her against the wall.
Enzo came for Emily, a knife flashing. She couldn’t just stand there and tried the same unsuccessful plan, scrambling for the door. His arm banded around her waist, and he lifted her off the floor.
“You know something, little spy,” he lisped in her ear. “You’ve turned into a real pain in the ass.” She kicked and twisted, clawing at his arm. “Be still,” he barked. “Unless you want me to cut you.”
Emily went rigid, as cold steel kissed her throat. It slid slowly downward, slicing through her top and bra like butter.
“Please, don’t,” she whispered, terrified. Hating that he’d made her beg. Hating him.
He spread the sides with his blade, dragging the flat of it across one nipple. “Auction items don’t wear clothes. Don’t worry, I won’t cut you. Bloody merchandise doesn’t sell well. We’ll leave all that up to your new owner.”
All those drills with Alec. All those hours. Useless now. She was too terrified to move.
Enzo’s lips brushed her cheek. His breath reeked of onions, making her gag. “Didn’t I say you’d regret breathing?”
They didn’t spare the injured guy a glance. Instead, Enzo and Benny dragged them—Emily half naked at knifepoint, Gaby by the hair—through several hallways, around too many turns to count, until they reached the cavernous main warehouse.
Then they shoved them under the lights on the makeshift stage.
The auction was about to begin.
Chapter 22
“Perimeter’s secured,” Mateo’s voice crackled in Alec’s earpiece.
“Ready to move on the south side,” Leland added.
Alec crouched behind a stack of shipping crates, the concrete cold biting into his knee as he too called in his position. “Roof is clear. Good to go on your signal.”
His voice stayed low and controlled. Inside, he was a storm—rage and fear colliding.
Emily was in there. On display. Up for sale.
Six D&A men, each paired with federal agents, surrounded the warehouse. Medical teams waited in the wings for second-wave entry. Everyone was in place—ghost-quiet shadows slipping in from the loading dock, all entrances, and four skylights above.
Through one of them, Alec could see inside. The space was mostly dark, lit only by a blinking green camera light and the harsh white light glaring down on a makeshift stage.
Enzo stood front and center, a depraved auctioneer, calling out obscene figures in his nasal lisp. Armed guards leaned against walls, leering openly at barely clothed girls trembling in terror. Benny hovered near the edge of the platform, a knife glinting, ready to slice away what little fabric the victims had left.
Sick fucking bastards—the lot of them.
Emily was there. Standing in line. Bare from the waist up. Chin high.
He couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew the expression. Defiance. Fury. Fight.
His hands clenched into fists. Proud of her for her daring, but also still pissed that she done this. If they survived tonight, the most dangerous thing in her life going forward would be a paring knife.
