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“Thank you,” she says reaching out to touch my arm.
My body tenses as I step out of her reach. “You’re welcome. Get out of here, go get help.”
She nods, hanging her head a little and leaves the chamber.
I heave a sigh of relief. “How many total, Boa?”
A smooth female voice resounds through my ear piece. “Today, we rescued 30 girls and 13 boys, who are currently on their way to area hospitals. A job well done!”
The rest of our team hoots and hollers in appreciation of our success. Together, my teammate and I walk through the sinister hall, ignoring the bloodstains, and emerge into the coming night. The air is crisp and cold causing goosebumps to rise over my arms and legs, and all I can think about is the one girl I couldn’t save.
“Lily,” a deep voice calls.
Jax hurries over and wraps a blanket around my shoulders. I hand him my knife and draw the cloth in close, giving myself a mental shake. A mischievous grin pulls at my lips. “So, what’s my count?”
He chuckles. “Thirteen kills today. You’ve done me proud.”
The roar of a helicopter engine calls to us. We jog over and climb in. I take one last glance at the police and Interpol agents handling the remainder of the auction below. I sigh as the rectangular brick building gets smaller as the helicopter rises. I lean my head back and close my eyes. Unable to stop the images from inside the auction from playing through my mind— mold and water marks running down the walls, old brown blood stains mixing with bright red fresh ones.
Damn I can’t wait to get home.
†††
72 Hours Later— Washington, DC
I step out of Dr. Kinderson’s office with my psychiatric evaluation results in hand. Jax stands as I enter the waiting room, gaze glued to my face. I grin, waving the folder like a prize.
"You pass?" Jax raises one of his eyebrows.
"Of course. That bitch is annoying."
"She’s a good doctor." He leads me down the closest hallway.
"She pisses me off."
"Lily, everyone pisses you off." Jax stops in front of
the elevator, pressing the up arrow as I fall in beside him. "She ask you about dating again?"
"Who gives a shit if I don't date?"
"Normal girls your age date. You know the information she’s going off of."
"I know . . . still fucking detestable, as far as questions and subjects go." I crack my neck and roll my eyes as the metal door in front of me opens.
Stepping into the elevator, my body tenses. My teeth grind together with the jarring movement of the metal box. After years of captivity, there’s nothing worse for me than being confined in small spaces with no way for a quick escape. The elevator dings, displaying the number six. The doors open, and I practically jump out.
I follow Jax to the last office on the left. Our team is spread throughout the room. He moves to speak with Hayato, our Communications Specialist, and I move to the glass wall encompassing the opposite side of the room. The clouds on the horizon drift fluidly over the blue sky— it’s breathtaking.
"How'd your session go with the shrink?" Dresden leans against the glass wall to my left.
"Same shit, different day."
He stands close to me, but is careful not to actually touch me— he knows better, they all do. His lips quirk up in a 'cat-who-got-the-canary' smile. He's so cocky it should be illegal. His wavy brown hair sits in disarray, laugh lines disrupting his five o'clock shadow, and green eyes shining with arrogance. The muscles in his shoulders strain his sleeveless shirt.
Why doesn't he own a normal shirt for Christ's sake?
"Good morning, Agents," a low voice says, his words filled with a British accent.
