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"Good work," the old man replied from his high-backed chair, his voice like gravel mixed with ice. "We'll be relocating soon, so make sure everything is in order. I'll send some backup to look for the missing girl. She won't get far."
"Should we still deliver these... goods?" the same thug asked, gesturing toward the captive women with a twisted smirk.
"Dispose of them before we move. They've become more trouble than they're worth," Boss said coldly, his words sending chills down Finn's spine.
"Understood, Boss," the man replied, nodding eagerly.
One of the women began to cry, but the other two remained stoically detached from their impending deaths.
Finn's mind raced as he processed the implications of the old man's decision. He knew he couldn't let these innocent women be killed, but how could he rescue them without putting their lives in even greater danger? A plan began to take shape in his thoughts, one that hinged on stealth and surprise. He looked to the weapons adorned on the walls and the suits of armor, relics of ancient warfare that taunted him.
"Boss," another man interrupted, "Should we still go back down there and keep sealing the tunnels?"
"Yes, we'll need those tunnels sealed tight before we go. I don't want the law snooping around them in case something is left behind by accident," the old man sniped.
"Got it." The thug turned away and barked orders to the other men, who began to disperse throughout the room.
Finn's gaze fell upon two gleaming daggers hanging on the wall nearest to him. He couldn't help but be drawn to their intricate designs and razor-sharp edges. The possibilities they could offer for a potential rescue set his mind racing.
"Are we clear on the plan?" Boss asked, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.
"Crystal, Boss," one of the men responded.
Suddenly, another man entered the room. He was tall, his hair graying on both sides. His gaze was battle-hardened, and Finn knew the man from the way he carried himself, immediately. It was the shooter in the woods and, more than likely, the killer. A man with expert military skills who could pierce a victim's liver with a knife and leave no trace of himself. He carried an air of invincibility about him.
"Boss," he said, nodding and stopping before the old man.
"Good. Bryant, I want you to oversee the operation and make sure those tunnels are sealed tight. We can't afford any loose ends, no mistakes this time!"
"Understood, Boss," Bryant replied, his voice betraying no emotion.
As the men dispersed to carry out their orders, Finn weighed his options. He knew that time was running out, and with each passing moment, the women's lives hung in the balance. He had to act fast. Surprise was his only advantage, until suddenly, Boss's chilling words broke the silence.
"By the way, Bryant," Boss said casually, "seems like we have an uninvited guest hiding behind that tapestry over there."
Finn felt a jolt of surprise shoot through his veins, his heart pounding even harder now as the blood rushed in his ears. He cursed himself for letting his guard down.
"Guess it's now or never," he thought, gripping the fabric of the tapestry tightly in his hand, preparing to leap out and face whatever consequences awaited him.
"Enough hiding," Finn muttered under his breath. In one fluid motion, he stepped out from behind the tapestry, eyes locked on Boss, a fierce determination in his gaze.
"Surprise," Finn said. "Kissogram for Mr Boss."
Finn knew he had probably cracked his last joke. The four armed guards and Bryant turned to face him, raising their weapons, with Finn in their sights.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Finn stood his ground in the plush room, its walls adorned with an array of ancient weapons and imposing suits of armor. He could feel the weight of the tension in the air as he faced down four guards, Bryant - the cold-blooded killer - and the elderly mastermind sitting in a regal chair, The Boss. Three captive women huddled together nearby.
"Special Agent Finn Wright," Boss said with a sharp, thin voice. "It's a pleasure to meet you, however brief this meeting will be. You must think me an idiot. Do you not think I have hidden cameras all over this castle? It was the first thing I had done after my brother's death, and I inherited the place."
"Quite the collection you have here," Finn said, forcing a wry smile. "I'm talking about the weapons and the suits of armor, by the way. That's all fine, it turns out collecting people isn't though. But let's cut to the chase. You know me, and I think I know you. Boss really is a self-aggrandizing name, so I'll just call you Drake Keatings, uncle to Edward, Joseline, and Charles." Finn paused for a moment, letting the name hang in the air. "I started to connect the dots when Charles kept saying that his 'Uncle' would take care of things. I wondered how someone could so easily get their relatives out of trouble. A crime boss, perhaps?"
The old man stared at Finn without any hint of fear or surprise. "Well, Mr. Wright, your reputation precedes you. You are correct, I am Drake Keatings. But that doesn't change the fact that you're out of your depth."
"Am I?" Finn asked, raising an eyebrow, walking around and touching a suit of armor like he was in a museum. "You see, I've been thinking about this whole people trafficking ring and the murders tied to it. You've got yourself quite an operation here. And Bryant..." Finn turned his gaze to the stone-faced killer, noticing a flicker of unease in his eyes. "He's your fixer, isn't he? Cleaning up after those poor girls who manage to escape. Or anyone who might find out about your little operation like Helen Baxter and Dolores Mayweather."
"Very perceptive," Drake said, his voice dripping with condescension. "And what makes you think you can do anything about it?"
