Blake swept a glance toward the sublevel hatch—open and abandoned. The earlier group of captives had already been moved; the traffickers had cleared them out the moment the alarm was raised.
Vivian rose slowly—and met a pair of wide, terrified eyes behind the cage door.
The cage was separate from the others, shoved behind crates like an afterthought—isolated for reasons Vivian didn’t want toconsider. Mara sat inside, small hands gripping the bars, knees tucked to her chest.
Emotion surged—anger, grief, fierce protectiveness—but she locked it down. The girl needed steadiness, not emotion.
“I’ve got her,” Vivian whispered, crouching by the metal bars. Mara flinched, so Vivian softened her voice. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re here to help.”
Blake landed beside her, breath tight. When he saw Mara, relief and fury flickered across his face. “That’s her.”
Vivian kept her voice gentle. “Hey, sweetheart. Someone risked a lot to make sure we reached you. That’s what matters right now.”
Mara’s lips trembled. “I thought no one would find me.”
“We did. And we’re getting you out.”
Blake scanned the shadows. “More guards could rotate down here.”
Vivian checked the lock. “Biometric.”
“Thirteen’s keycard.”
He pressed it into her hand, fingers steadying hers without meaning to. She slid the card through.
Beep.
Click.
The door released, and Mara lunged forward.
Vivian caught her—tiny arms clinging tight, shaking so hard the tremors vibrated straight through Vivian’s ribs. She was light—too light for a child her age.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, smoothing a hand down Mara’s back. Alive. Warm. In her arms.“I’ve got you,” she breathed.
Blake’s gaze snapped forward. “Not yet. We’ve got company.”
Boots pounded metal.
Vivian tightened her grip on Mara as Blake stepped in front of them.
Red strobes pulsed,warning slicing through steel ribs. The first guard appeared in the flash. Blake moved, front sight rising, one controlled burst dropping the man.
“Contact!” another voice barked. Boots thundered. Too many.
“Back!” Blake rasped, pushing Vivian and Mara deeper into cover. Return fire hammered the corner. Sparks spat across the bulkhead.
“Two squads,” he said. “Split angles. They’ll try to pinch.”
“Left is tighter,” Vivian called. “Less room for them to flank.”
“Move.”
They slid low. A round punched metal near Blake’s cheek. He answered with a burst that broke rhythm long enough to push them around the corridor elbow.
The ship rolled on a swell—subtle but enough to rock his balance. Alarms wailed. Strobes fractured time.
“Door,” Vivian said.
