Page 32 of Tempest

My heartbeat hammered in my ears. Too easy. Was it a trap? A cruel game designed to lure us into their clutches? Or did these assholes think they were so invincible they didn’t dare think someone would come after them? Then again, unless Kasen had talked to them, they’d have no idea who they’d taken, or the fact I’d be coming for them.

Octo, one of the Twisted Tides members, moved with the fluid grace of a panther in the night, securing our boat to the larger vessel with practiced efficiency. The softclinkof metal on metal sent a shiver down my spine. I glanced up, waiting to see if anyone on board had noticed. After a few heartbeats, I knew they weren’t coming to investigate.

“Ready?” Stinger whispered, his voice barely a breath in the stillness.

I gave the Twisted Tides SAA a curt nod, my jaw tight. “I go first. Watch my six.”

I knew I was on their turf, but this was my mission. My woman. Since they’d let me call the shots so far, it made me think Wire had asked them to give me the freedom to do what I felt was necessary.

Hauling myself over the railing, I felt my senses sharpen, every nerve ending buzzing with awareness. The deck creaked beneath my feet like a mournful sigh, the sound echoing in the oppressive quiet. I froze, listening intently for any telltale sign, any hint of movement in the shadows.

Octo and Stinger followed, their movements silent. “Spread out,” I ordered, my voice low and tight. “Find Kasen. Anyone gets in your way --”

“We know the drill,” Octo interjected. His tone made me want to punch him. “Not our first time doing something like this.”

My eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a game. These fuckers took one of mine.”

“We’ve got this, boss,” Stinger said, his voice reassuring but laced with sarcasm. Noted. I may be somewhat in charge of this mission, but I was the outsider here.

I took a breath to keep calm and clear-headed. “Then let’s move. And remember --”

A distant shout ripped through the silence, shattering the eerie calm. I whipped around, adrenaline surging through my veins, my predatory instincts kicking into overdrive.

“Showtime,” I said, a feral grin twisting my lips. The rage I’d been holding in check roared to life, demanding release, demanding blood. It was time to unleash the beast within and reclaim what was rightfully mine.

The ship’s dim lights cast creepy shadows that danced across the deck, making the whole scene feel like something out of a horror movie. A figure emerged from the gloom -- the first guard.

I didn’t hesitate. My fist connected to his temple, the sound of his body hitting the deck echoing in the night air. The rise and fall of his chest told me he still lived. Should have hit him harder.

“One down,” I muttered, my breath ragged. The familiar thrum of violence pulsed through me, but I shoved it down.Focus. Find Kasen.

I pressed on, hugging the shadows. The ship’s corridors were a maze, each turn a potential threat. Or Kasen. The thought of her, scared and alone, sent a fresh wave of anger crashing over me.

“What the fuck is this thing?” I whispered to Stinger.

“Luxury yacht. Not something authorities would assume to be carrying enslaved women.” He shrugged. “Dealing in humans is profitable. Doesn’t make it right.”

Suddenly, voices. I froze, my ears straining to catch every word.

“… the boss wants her moved before sunrise,” a gruff voice said.

“Why the rush?” another replied. “She ain’t going nowhere.”

Kasen. It had to be. I inched closer, peeking around the corner. Four men stood in a loose circle, cigarette smoke swirling around them like ghosts. Their attention was focused on something I couldn’t see.

My fingers itched for my gun. One squeeze of the trigger and --

No. Too risky. Too loud. I needed information first.

Patience. Soon.

My eyes narrowed, calculating the distance, the angles, the precise choreography of violence that was about to unfold. Then, I exploded into motion.

I slammed into the first trafficker with the force of a freight train, my fist driving into the soft flesh of his solar plexus. His eyes bulged, and he doubled over, gasping for air. I didn’t waste a moment, pivoting on my heel as my elbow connected with the second man’s jaw. The sickening crack of bone echoed in the cavernous room.

“What the f --” The third man’s curse was cut short as my boot found its mark in his groin. He crumpled to the ground, whimpering like a kicked puppy.

The fourth trafficker, adrenaline-fueled and desperate, reached for a weapon tucked beneath his jacket. But I was faster. I snatched his wrist in a vise-like grip, twisting it until I felt the satisfyingsnapof tendons giving way. The gun clattered to the floor, a useless piece of metal.

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