My hold tightens even more around the railing.
The gym flashes through my mind.
The heavy bag under my fists.
The sound of every impact ricocheting off the walls as I drove every ounce of anger, grief and helplessness into it. I chased exhaustion in the hope of making everything fade away.
Until my arms gave out and I collapsed to the floor, letting everything I’d been holding inside finally break free.
Tyler didn’t come to me.
He didn’t stop me.
He just watched.
Because he understood something most people don’t.
No one saves you.
You claw your own way back with bleeding hands and sheer will.
All someone else can do is stay.
Piece by piece, I built something new out of what they tried to destroy.
I didn’t survive just to live.
At some point, without realizing it, I stopped trying to put myself back together.
I was going to mold myself into a weapon, something lethal, so I’d never feel that kind of helplessness again.
I needed to take back my power and pick these motherfuckers off one by one.
But first, I had to make myself ready.
The evil of human trafficking is everywhere.
Hidden. Protected. Thriving.
The only way I knew how to fight it was to rip pieces of it out with my bare hands.
No matter the cost.
Tyler saw it too.
He didn’t shy away or try to stop me.
He adapted.
While I trained my body, he trained his mind by teaching himself how to break into places no one’s supposed to reach.
The dark web.
Trafficking networks.
He finds them, maps them out, and focuses on the ones rooted in Turks and Caicos.
Together we started hunting, with each step refining me, preparing me for the vengeance I’ve been quietly building for two years against the ones who thought I’d never come back.
