The voice introduces the first participant. The language is careful. Polished. Wrapped in words about empowerment and opportunity, every sentence designed to make trafficking sound as though it were a gift.
I hate how close it sounds to dignity.
Anna stiffens near me. Tobias's fingers settle against her arm. She leans into him, and he holds her there.
"She's so young," Anna says, barely audible. Her jaw is tight, fingers curled against the glass.
"Yes," Phoenix says, low and controlled. "Keep recording."
The woman steps into the light. White dress, floor-length, the fabric catching the chandelier's glow. Calm expression. Measured stride. She walks the way someone walks when they own the room.
The room bids. Paddles lift. Numbers climb. Champagne glasses pause midway to mouths.
I grip the sill. My nails bite into the wood.
Knox's hand covers mine. "I've got you." I release the sill. His hand returns to my waist. I lace my fingers through his against my stomach. He dips his mouth to my ear. "You're holding my hand against your body in a dark room and I'm supposed to focus on surveillance."
I blink. "Are you serious right now?"
"I'm trying to make you breathe." His thumb strokes once across my knuckles. "Is it working?" A laugh escapes before I can help it. Small, surprised, completely wrong for this room. I set my lips together. "There she is," he murmurs.
Ruby's fingers pause on her tablet. "Senator Talbot," she says, low enough for the corridor only. "Bidder number two. Logging."
Nash angles forward in his chair, jaw tight. "He's here."
"Keep it moving," Phoenix says.
"Buyer list cross-check," McKenzie adds. "Marking."
Ruby scrolls. "Judge Kellerman. Two seats to the right of Talbot."
East, barely above a whisper: "Everybody in this room looks guilty."
Arden answers from his corner without opening his eyes. "Focus. Patterns."
On the floor below, a buyer reaches toward the woman's wrist as she passes his table. Casual. Entitled. The way you'd reach for a glass of water.
Anna moves. One step toward the glass, shoulders squaring, breath sharp.
Tobias catches her elbow. Gentle. "Anna."
"He touched her."
"He gets corrected," Phoenix says. "Watch."
The woman stops on her own. She turns, calmly lifts her wrist out of reach. The buyer's smile falters. A few people at nearby tables laugh, assuming it's a performance. Assuming it's a show.
Her voice carries through the ballroom, clear and controlled. "Hands off."
Two words. The buyer's face reddens. He lowers his hand. The woman turns back to the runway and keeps walking. The room resumes. Glasses lift. Conversations restart. As if nothing happened.
Anna's breath shudders, evens out. Tobias squeezes her elbow once and lets go.
Another participant takes the floor. There's another round of bids. The ballroom keeps performing normalcy. The clink ofglasses, the murmur of conversation, the soft music filling the spaces between numbers.
Knox bends down. "You want to leave?"
"No."
