Page 32 of The Shape of my Scar
“Tempting to hit it,” Thane muttered “Get the kids out. But—”
“But it’s likely to be a decoy,” Lirian finished, eyes fixed on the glowing map on his tablet. “That’s what they want. They are probably putting feelers out to see how we will respond. If we hit early, they bury the rest. Or worse, move them faster.”
Maro rolled his shoulders. “So we need to hold.”
They hated it, every instinct screaming otherwise, but they weren’t amateurs anymore. They were hunters and the hunt was bigger than a single site.
“We need to find the rest,” Zel said, voice low. “We need locations for the other kids and the records—purchase logs, transport routes, comms. We burn the roots, not just the leaves.”
“Once they’re sold, they’ll vanish,” Thane muttered. “We need to catch itbeforethe paperwork’s shredded.”
“That’s where Lirian comes in,” Zel said.
Lirian didn’t look away from his screen. “I’ve set up a false trail before I made first contact. Leaks, whispers, dark web listings…enough to suggest the Horsemen have branched out into trafficking women and are looking toexpandtheir offerings. Specifically, younger stock.”
Thane’s jaw flexed with distaste. “I’ll be the face, the frontline contact.”
“You sure?” Zel asked.
Thane met his eyes. “Needs to be done. We have pigs to feed.”
Zel gave a short nod. “I’ll manage the back-end—scheduling, funding, and cleanup. Make it look real.”
Maro grunted. “And if it goes sideways?”
Zel glanced at him. “That’s where you come in, my little ray of sunshine.” He made kissy gestures.
Maro cracked his knuckles.
They all had their roles that best suited their skill set. Thane the bait, Zel the mind, Maro the hammer, and Lirian the ghost in the wires.
They were no longer willing to settle for a rescue. They were shooting for total control.
And this time, they were taking the whole fucking system down.
Chapter 16
Thane
“Do I just bend over and cough, or you gonna take me to dinner first?” Thane drawled with a wink.
The mammoth of a guard didn’t blink. He just roughly shoved Thane’s arms out wider, hands raking along seams and stitching with the bored efficiency of a man used to violence.
Thane leaned in slightly, grinning. “Not even a bit of eye contact? You’re breakin’ me heart, mate.”
“Shut it,” the guard muttered, reaching toward Thane’s inner thigh.
“Oh-ho, let’s not get up close just yet. I like a bit of foreplay, love. Buy me a drink first, sweetheart. I like to feel special before yo suck my dick.”
That earned him an irritated grunt, but the man finished the rest of the search in silence—a little more rough but impersonal. At least two scanners ran over him, chest to ankle, and one lingered a bit too long over his skull. But Thane’s heart beat didn’t kick up. There was not even a twitch on the readings.
They didn’t know what was under his skin.
The bone-conduction mic nestled just behind his right ear had been custom-implanted years ago, invisible to standard sweeps. This was a little something Lirian had cooked up after studying what the scanners picked up. It looked like a calcified scar, and there wasn’t a metal signature or a heat bloom.
“Clear,” the guard muttered to his partner, stepping back.
Thane straightened, brushing off his sleeves like he’d just finished a lap dance.
