«She’s not gone,» the Black girl whispered, and the man’s heart lurched, disbelief giving way to a chilling truth as he dug deeper

Blonde, tied to a chair. Thomas’ vision blurred for a second. His heart thundered so loud it seemed to fill the narrow space.

We go in hard, Reese said. Quiet. Fast.

They exited the vent into darkness, moving silently behind crates and support beams. Then, with perfect synchronicity, they struck. Reese tackled the guard by the door.

His silencer puffing twice before the man dropped. Thomas rushed toward the woman, tearing duct tape from her mouth. Elena, Elena.

It’s me. Her head lolled weakly, but her eyes focused. Tom? He pulled her into his arms.

I’ve got you. You’re safe. But behind him, a metal click echoed.

Thomas turned. The man with the artificial arms stood there, gun raised, blood dripping from his nose where Reese had struck him. You don’t know what you’re doing.

The man growled. I know exactly what I’m doing, Thomas replied. Shielding Elena, the man sneered.

She had evidence. Names. They paid me to make it disappear, but she wouldn’t die.

Should’ve just let the sea finish the job. Thomas took a step forward, dropped the weapon. Before he could answer, a voice from the shadows barked.

Drop it first. Maya stepped out, a heavy flashlight in both hands. It wasn’t a gun, but she held it like one.

Fearless. You again, the man spat. You’re just a stupid kid.

Maya’s eyes narrowed. Then why are you scared of me? In the moment of distraction, Reese lunged and disarmed the man, knocking him unconscious with a final blow. Thomas turned to Maya, stunned.

You could’ve been hurt, she shrugged. I’m tired of hiding. They carried Elena out through the same vent, her breathing shallow but steady.

Outside, a black van waited Reese’s team had called backup. Medics were ready. As the doors closed, Thomas held Elena’s hand.

You’re safe now. She coughed, barely a whisper. Not all of them.

Gone. Thomas leaned in. What? Her eyes locked on his.

Ashmont, it’s just one. Part. Others.

Watching. He nodded. We’ll find them.

Beside him, Maya held the sketch she had brought, the one of Elena’s face. Keep it, Elena rasped, smiling faintly. It’s better than any photo.

As the van sped away, Thomas looked back at the depot. Dark now, but still full of secrets. This was no ending.

It was a beginning, one they would face together. Thomas sat at Elena’s bedside in the private medical wing of his estate, the silence between them broken only by the soft beeping of monitors. Her face, pale and bruised, was almost unrecognizable beneath layers of fatigue.

Yet her grip despite the IV running into her arm remained strong, fingers woven tightly through his. There was still fire in her, though it burned quietly now. Maya stood at the door, hesitant.

Thomas motioned her in. She wanted to see you. Maya approached slowly.

Elena’s eyes flicked toward her, lips twitching into a weak but grateful smile. The girl, she whispered. Her name is Maya, Thomas said softly.

Elena nodded. Thank you, Maya. I saw you.

That night, you didn’t look away. Maya’s voice caught in her throat. I didn’t know what to do.

I was just a kid. You were brave, Elena whispered. That’s more than most.

Thomas watched the exchange, a lump building in his chest. It was Maya, not the police, not the press, who had seen what others had ignored. A child from the margins, a shadow society had learned not to see had refused to see.

Later that morning, Thomas met Reese in the estate study, the table covered in files and digital printouts. Anything? Thomas asked. Reese tapped the screen of a tablet.

Plenty. Our friend with the artificial arm, he was working under the alias Gideon Price, former private military, disappeared from the system three years ago, resurfaced as head of security for several offshore installations. Thomas leaned in.

Including Ashmont? Yes, and three others, all registered to shell companies based in Luxembourg. But guess what they all have in common? Reese flipped the screen to show a blurry security image, containers being unloaded at a port no markings, but a distinct symbol painted on one corner, a black triangle over a white field. Elena had that symbol in her files, Thomas said, jaw tightening.

She believed it was connected to a trafficking ringgone using shipping routes to move more than just cargo. She was right, Reese said, and now they know she’s still alive. Thomas exhaled slowly.

Then we need to hit them before they vanish again, Reese nodded. I’ve already arranged satellite recon. There’s one site still active off the Gulf Coast.

Remote. Isolated. But not invisible.

Good, Thomas said. We go tonight. But as they spoke, across the estate, Maya stood outside Elena’s room, staring at a photograph of Thomas and his wife on the wall…