"Kai—" Axel started.
"Marco doesn't know you. He doesn't know Tyler, not really—Tyler was undercover in a different part of the operation." I met their eyes, one after the other. "But he might have seen me. At the warehouse, when we were freeing the victims. My face was everywhere in that chaos."
"That's an argument for you stayingaway."
"No, it's leverage. If he recognizes me, he knows Phoenix took down his boss. He knows we're serious." I set down my mug. "I'm done sitting on the sidelines. You both know I can handle myself."
Tyler and Axel exchanged a look—the silent communication of men who'd learned to read each other through violence and necessity.
"He's right," Tyler finally said. "And honestly? Having a nurse along might be useful. And he might need... motivation."
"You mean intimidation."
"I mean whatever works." Tyler's expression hardened. "Thirty-seven lives, Kai. I'll do whatever it takes."
So would I. That was the part that scared me.
The county lockup was a grey concrete box on the outskirts of the city.
Tyler flashed his badge at the front desk, spun a story about following up on leads from a federal investigation. The desk sergeant barely looked up—just waved us through to the interview rooms with the bored efficiency of someone who'd seen too many suits to care.
Marco was brought in fifteen minutes later. He was smaller than I expected—wiry, nervous, with darting eyes that took in Tyler's badge, Axel's bulk, and my purple-streaked hair in quick succession. When his gaze landed on me, something flickered. Recognition.
"You," he breathed. "You were at the warehouse. You're the one who?—"
"Freed twenty-three people from cages? Yeah." I sat down across from him, kept my voice calm. "That was me."
Marco's eyes went to the door, calculating escape routes. Axel shifted his weight, blocking the exit. The message was clear.
"What do you want?" Marco's voice had lost its bravado.
"Information." Tyler leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Viper's secondary location. The one he kept off the books."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." I pulled out my phone, showed him a photo—one of the victims we'd rescued, a girl no older than fifteen. "This is Ana. She was in one of those cages for three weeks. Three weeks, Marco. Do you know what they did to her?"
He flinched. Good.
"There are thirty-seven more. Somewhere in this city, right now, waiting to be sold. And you're going to tell us where."
"I can't—" He swallowed. "If Chen finds out I talked?—"
"Chen's going down." Tyler's voice was ice. "Her files are in federal custody. Her operation is burning. The only question is whether you go down with her or cut a deal while you still can."
"You're FBI. You could protect me?"
"That depends entirely on what you give us in the next five minutes."
Marco looked between us—the fed with the badge, the biker with the murder in his eyes, the nurse with blood still under his fingernails. Whatever he saw convinced him.
"There's a farm," he said. "About forty miles north. Used to be a dairy operation before it went under. Viper bought it through a shell company three years ago. That's where he keeps..." He couldn't finish the sentence.
"Address."
He gave it. Tyler wrote it down, then nodded to Axel.
"We're done here." Tyler pocketed his notebook. "For the record, Marco—you never saw us. You never talked to us. And if I find out you warned anyone about this conversation, I'll make sure you end up in general population with a jacket that says 'child trafficker' on it."
