Page 41 of Rusty's Command

What if this was just the beginning? What if she was in over her head and couldn’t cut off the feed? Rusty’s brutal efficiency had saved her life so far, but what if the killers kept coming?

Her mind raced, clawing at one rotten thought after the other. She wasn’t like Rusty—cold, calculated, capable of shutting off fear to do what had to be done.

She was barely holding it together, and if she took too long to shut down the system, Pickle would die.

They all would.

CHAPTER 14

Sienna

Sienna’s breathsshot in and out in a frantic effort to control her churning stomach as she tried to comprehend what Rusty had done to those men. A mix of awe and shock swirled in her chest as she grappled with images of Rusty eighteen years apart—the long-haired, easy-going beach bum she once knew and the hardened warrior, capable of taking down two men with his bare hands in the space of seconds.

The man she knew and loved was long gone, replaced with a mysterious, brave hero who had her heart soaring in so many ways.

A rising tide of panic blazed through her as Rusty slipped out the door and scanned the corridor. As he sprinted to her, something glimmered in his eyes . . . regret maybe, or frustration.

“What happened?” Her voice cracked.

“You okay?” he asked, dodging her question. He clutched her elbow, holding her like he knew she was about to self-combust.

She blinked up at him, trying to reconcile the two different versions of Russell Callahan in her life.

“No,” she stammered. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“Me? I can’t believe what you did.” He gently led her toward the open doorway. “You were amazing, Sienna. Crazy . . . but incredible. And look, we found the server room.”

Holding her arm, Rusty guided her into a room shrouded in shadows where the only light filtered from a bank of servers along the back wall with hundreds of LEDs that flickered like a demented Christmas display. The low hum of cooling fans pulsed through the air, a steady, unnerving rhythm that contrasted sharply with the shouts outside.

Somewhere beyond the door, the heavy thud of boots echoed closer, and Rusty’s grip on her arm tightened to firm but not painful as he hurried her forward with a sense of urgency that set her pulse racing.

On the carpet, the two gunmen Rusty had knocked out lay sprawled on their backs like discarded mannequins, their limbs bent at awkward angles. Soda stood over them, her body taut, ears pricked, and teeth bared in a stance that left no doubt that she was ready to attack the second they so much as twitched. Her sharp eyes flicked toward Sienna, then back to the unconscious men.

Rusty guided Sienna toward the computers with his hand on her elbow, steering her through the room with gentle yet firm pressure. As they approached the terminals, two more bodies were on the ground with their hands restrained with zip ties behind their backs. They were dressed in shorts and T-shirts, a far cry from the intimidating attire of the guards. They must be the computer nerds, the ones who kept the trafficking ring’s operations running smoothly.

A wave of guilt washed over Sienna as she took in the scene. One of the men lay on his side, unconscious, with blood oozingfrom his nose and pooling onto the carpet. The other man, however, was awake, his wide, terrified eyes following her as she walked past him. The gaffer tape covering his mouth muffled his voice, but his eyes spoke volumes—he was pleading for her to help him.

A pang of guilt swooped through her. These men didn’t look like monsters, they looked like harmless tech enthusiasts. But she quickly slapped that thought aside. They may not have been armed or dangerous, but they played key roles in the human trafficking ring, using their technical skills to facilitate the suffering of countless innocent victims.

A sound like a stampede of cattle thundered outside the door.

“Shit!” Rusty yanked her to his chest, slapped his hand over her mouth, and held her against the wall with his body shielding her from whatever new nightmare was heading their way. With his other hand, he aimed his gun at the door, his eyes fixed with deadly intent. The thundering noise grew louder, and Sienna’s breaths shot in and out through her nose as she stared at the doorway, expecting an army of assassins to barge through at any moment.

“Shh,” Rusty whispered in her ear, his voice soft and soothing like he was tucking her into bed at night, not shielding her from armed killers.

“Find her!” Viktor’s cold, menacing voice shredded the air. “Now!”

One man raced past the door, clutching a rifle to his chest. A group of men followed him, their boots echoing through the hallway like a battle drum hitting her heart. As quickly as they came, they vanished, leaving behind an unsettling silence.

Rusty released his hand from her mouth and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Listen. You need to shut down their operation.” His voice was low and urgent.

Sienna struggled to focus with her mind still reeling from the violence she’d witnessed. “But what about the woman who saved Pickle, and the others?” The words caught in her throat as fear clawed at her chest like a monster.

Rusty’s expression softened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “They’re safe, Sienna. I promise.”

His certainty surprised her. “What? But she stood up to Viktor. He will?—”

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