The abandoned chemical plant reeked of rust and pungent chemicals.
I was thrown roughly onto a rusted metal chair.
A scar-faced man grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.
I recognized that face.
Blade MacMillan.
No ordinary butcher.
He was the most feared executioner in human trafficking circles.
I'd seen him three years ago when I was resold.
"Tough little bitch," he sneered, gripping my chin with calloused fingers. "Managed to crawl out of that hellhole."
I stared into his bloodshot eyes.
"How much is Luna Roscente paying you?"
He froze.
"Clever girl," he spat. "But clever girls don't live long."
A knife flashed in the dim light.
Sirens tore through the silence.
"Fuck!" Blade kicked over a metal barrel. "Who tipped them off?"
Meanwhile, my family's mansion was in chaos.
My mother clutched my abandoned coat, sobbing uncontrollably.
Liam Anderson tore through my bedroom.
A pink phone slid from under the pillow.
"She ran!" His eyes were bloodshot. "I told you she was an ungrateful wretch!"
My father took the phone in silence.
"Trace it."
Black market purchase records.
Cash transactions.
Deleted browser history restored.
Traces of encrypted forum logins.
The nation's largest human trafficking hub.
"Pull all traffic cams," my father's voice was glacial.
Security footage froze on a black van forcing me off the road.
Fake plates.
Final ping location: westside chemical plant.
Corporate records traced to a Cayman Islands shell company.
An offshore account just received $500,000.
The wire transfer signature made Liam's pupils dilate.
The orphanage director who'd emigrated years ago.
Every clue wove into a vast web.
At its center sat a weeping figure in white in the living room.
Liam slid down the wall, collapsing to the floor.