Page 62 of Echoes of Desire

Raven reaches out, gripping both our hands tightly. “Be careful,” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“Always,” I reply before reluctantly pulling away. “We’ll see you soon. Remember Taylor, she’ll forget your face if you leave her sight.”

“Don’t worry about her,” he says. “We’ll keep her safe. Just go find my pup.”

Blaze and I follow King, Ghost, and the rest of the team out to the line of vehicles waiting outside. The rumble of engines and the heavy tension in the air make it clear: this isn’t just a rescue mission. It’s a declaration of war.

As we pile into Reynolds SUV, Emily hops into the backseat of another truck, giving us a mock salute before settling in.

“Let’s move,” King orders and the convoy roars to life.

The drive is tense, filled with the sound of static-filled radio chatter and the occasional bark of an order from King. Blaze sits beside me, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles are white. Neither of us speaks, but the shared silence says everything: rage, fear, determination.

When we reach the warehouse, the scene is eerily quiet. The building looms in the distance, its windows dark and foreboding.The only sound is the crunch of gravel beneath our boots as we move into position.

“Emily, get that feed,” King commands as soon as we’re in range.

From the safety of the truck, Emily works quickly, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Got it,” she says after a few tense moments. “There are cameras covering the entrances and a few inside. I’m looping the feed now.”

“Good girl,” Ghost says. “Stay put.”

The rest of us fan out, weapons drawn and senses on high alert. Blaze and I stick together, our movements synchronized as we approach the side entrance. My pulse pounds in my ears, every step bringing us closer to whatever waits inside.

“Clear,” Blaze whispers as we breach the door, moving silently into the dimly lit corridor.

The smell of oil and mildew fills the air, and the faint hum of machinery echoes in the distance.

“What type of operation are they running here?” Ghost asks. “Are those fucking cages?”

“It’s a whore house,” Emily says through our earpieces. “Well, a better term is a trafficking ring. I’m pulling up their records now. They’ve been using this place as a front for years.”

Blaze curses under his breath, his grip on his weapon tightening. “We’re burning it to the ground when this is over.”

“Focus,” King hisses. “We’re here for Knox. Find him first. We haven’t seen any security. They’re either stupid or think they have nothing to fear.”

“Either way, stupid,” Emily says.

“Let’s check the corridor,” he says. “Emily, keep that feed on a loop in case someone is watching the screens.”

King may not be our president, but he knows his shit. We’ll follow his every command.

The corridor branches off into several rooms, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the cracked concrete walls. The sound of muffled voices draws us to the left, toward a heavy steel door slightly ajar.

“On me,” Ghost says, taking point. Blaze and I fall in behind him, weapons raised as we approach the door.

Inside, the room is cold and damp, lined with small, rusted cages. Some are empty, while others hold terrified women and men, their eyes hollow with fear and exhaustion. The sight makes my blood boil, but I force myself to stay focused. We’ll deal with them after we find Knox.

“Not here,” Ghost mutters, his jaw tight as he scans the room.

“They’ve got a lower level,” Emily chimes in. “I’m seeing schematics now. Stairwell is to your right, about twenty feet down the hall.”

“Copy,” King says, motioning for us to move.

As we head toward the stairwell, Blaze glances at me, his green eyes blazing with anger. “We’re getting every single one of them out of here,” he says, his voice low but resolute.

“Damn right,” I reply.

The stairwell descends into near-total darkness, the air growing colder with each step. The faint sound of whimpering and distant cries echoes up from below, making my skin crawl.

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