Then

The setting sun painted the cloud cover in liquid gold. Jace sat on the plane, staring out of the small window at nothing in particular, only noticing the gold all over. That strange orange glow, a color so unique and beautiful it made his thoughts immediately go to Phoenix.

It was sort of the same color as those flowers he had seen on Phoenix's back that night at the club.

Jace wanted to see that tattoo up close, wanted to touch it, because the phoenix had looked so lifelike that he almost expected to feel the feathers if he touched it. But so far, Phoenix had not given him a chance to do so.

Through the three weeks since their first meeting at the club, he and Phoenix had trained three-four times a week. When Jace had accepted to train with Phoenix, Phoenix had suggested they trained as much as possible before Packard and Lady Gloria returned. Since he was at the club most of the time, they could fit it into when Jace was not on assignment.

Some days, their sessions were not long or physical. Just short and theoretical, where they talked about techniques, club rules, sub rules, Dom expectations, and everything Jace needed to know and be aware of. Phoenix was patient and calm each time, giving Jace the possibility to absorb everything at his own pace to reach the understanding he needed.

Phoenix had displayed no deep sighs, no annoyance with stupid questions, or with having to explain something in detail for Jace to get a good grasp on it.

Every session unfolded professionally and comfortably, something Jace had feared was impossible after his display of sluttiness the first time.

Everything Phoenix did with the highest level of care for Jace's educational journey to become a member.

Though Jace was naked and in some rather compromising positions with a few of the kinks they worked on, Phoenix had never overstepped. He asked for consent for every small thing, explained the safety procedures, and always gave Jace a way out if he should deem it necessary to stop during a scene. That professionalism was also the reason Jace could not get closer to the tattoo, because Phoenix had stayed fully dressed every time.

They had been physical in many ways with no sexual interaction outside Phoenix helping Jace to finish at the end of it, if he had not asked Jace to do it himself. Phoenix had gone through a checklist of kinks and encouraged Jace to tell what he liked and disliked, what he had experience with, and how much. Together, they had outlined his limits and made a guideline to follow through the training. When done, they had tried the things on the list, beginning with Jace's likes, and worked their way to the ones he was not sure if he liked but had an interest in. All done with theoretical sessions for feedback and questions in between.

Phoenix had carefully poked at Jace's exes at the first theoretical session they had spent together, but Jace had shot that down and simply stated he wanted to learn everything as if he had no training at all. There was nothing Phoenix could say to that, though he had urged Jace to let him know if anything at all triggered him. It was his only way of letting Jace know he had his suspicions and would be mindful of Jace if needed, and still be respectful of Jace's privacy.

That subtle way of reassuring Phoenix showed only made Jace trust him more.

Jace had expected to feel embarrassed, telling Phoenix about his kinks, but it had been surprisingly easy once they got started. And the physical walkthrough of everything was done in Phoenix's unique way of sensual intimacy with his usual detachment.

A detachment that seemed more obvious to Jace than normal, like Phoenix made it a priority to distance himself and allowed Jace to not have to acknowledge that they were both males while inside the club.

Though they should have been awkward with one another, it came naturally to them because they had formed a bond of trust. One Jace appreciated a lot there in the club, but one he felt extended outside of it too, which had given him the confidence to turn in his tasks for the first module and for him to slowly move forward there too.

In a way, had their friendship become stronger with the knowledge of each other and the trust they shared in their secrets. It had only strengthened as Phoenix time and time again proved that he at any point kept Jace's secrets to himself and did not use them against him. He treated Jace as he normally would outside the club; at meetings or when socializing, the slaps to his head came as expected. His grumpiness and indifference were the same, yet he actively encouraged Jace to speak up and take more responsibility as a leader to help Gareth. Supporting him discreetly to put what he learned through the online course into action in that unique Phoenix way.

Phoenix talked and acted like he always did, and not once had he gone into Dominant mode to keep Jace in check or overrule him. That Jace had feared a bit, that he would feel submissive in Phoenix's presence and naturally change his behavior to please him.

Outside the club, they were both alphas and treated each other as equals.

Everything was normal, and none had seemed to catch on to the shift in their relationship. Well, none but Jace. Because as connected as they were, and no matter how Phoenix to everybody seemed the same, Jace felt how Phoenix held back from him outside their sessions. He was less open than before. If Jace tried to strike up a casual conversation at the mansion or out for dinner, Phoenix gave gruff replies and retreated from the conversation. It was not unusual for Phoenix to do that with any of the guys. That was perfectly normal behavior from the moody sod. But with the headway they had made before the training, it seemed odd to Jace that Phoenix did it to him.

Mostly, things were as they had been, and Jace told himself that he read too much into Phoenix's lack of conversational acceptance. The man was simply not like other people, and if he saw nothing of interest in a conversation, he blanked out or left.

They even still did the wingman routine for each other, helping the other pull their lady of choice from the clubs. All they had to do was look at the other to confirm that it was on, and when done, a nod of appreciation was given. The first time Phoenix had given Jace 'the wingman look', Jace had felt oddly betrayed. Like what they shared meant nothing, which, to Phoenix, it probably did not. They were trainer and student, and other than that they were colleagues who had no say in what the other did and with whom.

Jace sighed deeply, looking forward to his next training, where he would get the attentive and surprisingly easy to communicate with Phoenix.

There was a big difference in the sessions they had. The physical ones took longer and always left Jace dazed and satisfied to a degree. The aftercare that Phoenix provided every time had been a revelation, something Jace had not experienced before and not understood was a dire must for a responsible Dom like Phoenix. And apparently, something all Doms should perform. Each time the soothing words, the praise for obeying and trusting, along with gratitude for submitting, got whispered in soft words as Phoenix tended to Jace's body in any way possible to minimize aches and pains. Massages, salves, long baths with scented oils, food, snacks, and pampering at the highest level.

The only aspects missing were the ones Jace craved the most. To be kissed and held against a naked body after they had both sated in their needs. He missed the actual sex involved. It would have been the icing on the cake, though not something he could ask of Phoenix. That part he had to save until he found a Dominant inside the club.

Be it male or female.

Having Phoenix know Jace was bisexual, and not just accepted male touches for training, was another hurdle to overcome. Jace could never let on that he enjoyed sexual attention from a male, because that might make Phoenix uncomfortable and pull back from wanting to train him. To a straight man like Phoenix, accepting male touches and intimacy to liking it ranged on different scales. Jace needed to pretend to be straight for them to be equals, then Phoenix would see Jace's actions in the same light as his own.

Afterward, Phoenix would find out, and it might create some issues.

It was a problem for another day. For the time being, Jace enjoyed what he had. And he was eager for their next session, even if it was one of the shorter ones.

"You're awfully quiet today," Malachai said with worry, and plopped into the seat next to Jace, looking at him with concern. "That's not like you. What's up?"

Both the words and the sudden feeling of somebody beside him drew Jace from his thoughts, and he noticed Rami sat across from him, nodding seriously to Malachai's statement.

"I'm ok. It's just a friend of mine's mother who had a heart attack and is in the hospital. I'm worried about my friend."

There was enough truth in the lie for Jace to not feel bad about lying to his friends. Maybe Lady Gloria was not a friend of his per se, but she was somebody he was supposed to know on an intimate level and would soon enough. And in all honesty, she was the reason for his thoughts of Phoenix and what they did.

As Phoenix had told him, Lady Gloria's brother had called from the tiny town in Scotland where they grew up and told about their mother's condition. Packard had gone with her home, and they were still there, which was why Phoenix worked himself to the bone, managing the club as well as doing his regular work for Gareth.

There had been no definitive answer on when they would be back, and though Jace wished for Gloria's mother to recover fast, he was not sure he wanted Gloria to come back any time soon.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Malachai said. His face changed from concern to deep sympathy, and his blue eyes reflected the sadness he felt with the news of Jace's friend's mother. "If you're not up for this mission, I'm sure we can arrange for you to sit this one out."

"Not a chance. I'm fine and I'm team lead, and I'm not slinking out on work for any reason. This mission is important."

Rami laughed. "Yeah, that's just because you know you get to punch Roarke later."

Jace smirked at that.

Well, that was a fun bonus, but he was in it for the end result. Whatever he had to do, he would do it to make sure their mission succeeded. "Let's call that one a perk." He winked at Rami.

"Just today, I wish I was lead on your team, but I'll settle for having your back. Give him a knuckle sandwich from me, will you?"

Jace could only laugh at that. They had all wanted to give Roarke a fistful at one time or another. "I'll make sure it's one he can taste for a while."

If that was how Rami handled situations with Gareth when things were a bit high-strung or depressing, Jace understood why Gareth appreciated Rami's company so much. Maybe Rami had said something like that in the car with Gareth in Belgium, when going to see Horse; something that had turned the mood and defused the situation. They all wondered how Rami did it.

This was probably why Gareth had been less than pleased when Jace had requested Rami to come on their mission. It was rare that Gareth allowed Rami to go off like that, but with what was at stake, he had seen reason in Jace's arguments for his choice.

They had all ordered some coffee to keep them perked up and ready. The mission would start almost upon arrival in The Czech Republic, and they stayed in comfortable silence for the rest of the flight; to sort of get into the mindset and be in the zone when shit hit the fan.

And it was definitely going to with the mission at hand.

They had no delusions about that.

At the Prague airport, they and the other men with them from Dublin met up with a team from Gareth's Prague division. They were cramped into four vans and driven to a safe house somewhere in the Prague twelve district, where they changed into their gear and got loaded up on communication devices, weapons, and night vision tech.

"Ok," Dutan, the team lead from Prague, said to get people's attention. "You all know your teams and entry points." He pointed at different spots on an aerial photo of a larger estate. "Make sure you don't cut the fences until you get the clear from the team taking out the electricity, and send in your snipers first to get in position."

He looked around for confirmation and waited for each team leader to acknowledge they knew what to do. Jace nodded, too. He knew the plan; half of it he and Cracker had worked out together with some of the Prague team over an online video call.

"It's not a mission to apprehend or destroy. It's a search and retrieval only. Any and all other people in there you incapacitate as non-violently as possible and get the fuck out when the target is secured." Dutan left no room for arguments. That was what they were supposed to do, though most wanted to kill every single depraved fuck in the lavish estate owned by a prestigious business mogul, who just happened to be a sick son of a bitch that liked to keep slaves for his own pleasure.

The premise of 'if you are rich enough you can get away with anything' was horrifyingly true when it came to human trafficking. It might be poor souls and lowlifes who procured the merchandise for a fraction of its worth when sold, but it was the rich who bought and profited from it.

The same was the case with their mission that night. A celebrity couple in London had reported their daughter missing after she had failed to return from a night out with friends. The story had been all over the news and in the papers in all of Britain, which had caught Gareth's attention, and for the most part, nobody could do much about something like that if the police did not have any clues to go on.

It had been pure dumb luck that Roarke had got invited to a VIP pre-sale viewing of merchandise to be sold on auction at the Prague estate, and he had recognized the girl. He had contacted Gareth and Cellmate in the middle of the night to ask for help. It was imperative they got to her before the perverts sold her off. Roarke could bid on her, but that was no surefire way of knowing he would win the bid. Sometimes the bidding was rigged to favor a specific client who had paid extra under the table to secure a particular piece of merchandise.

With a girl like the one they were about to help, that was more than plausible. Young, attractive, possibly a virgin, and from a known family. The bragging rights for whoever had her as his plaything would be astronomical.

Roarke had decided that the Prague division of cybercrimes would set up the operation, and Gareth would send reinforcements from different nearby cities to help. Roarke's own enforcers were already on a job in Germany with another undercover buyer from their team, so all outside help they appreciated. Jace, Malachai, and Rami had handpicked who they wanted to come on their team because they were the retrieval team. They could not work with the others on that. They needed people they knew, people they trusted without question, who understood what it meant when somebody said something, if a slight change of voice was present, and knew who was capable of what to anticipate their own actions in a sudden situation.

Cracker had gone on ahead of them to scout out the place to make sure the plan would work; he had his own team and mission within the mission.

The only outside member of their team was the guide/driver to get them the hell out of Dodge when they had secured the girl.

"We need it to look like an operation set in motion by her rich parents. We can't rescue any others in there, or they might become suspicious of the people we have on the inside. Just Callie Reacher." Dutan sighed with frustration at what he asked the men to do.

A sort of glum atmosphere settled in the room. They all knew they would have to leave people in there who deserved their freedom. Who, because they were not rescued in that operation, were doomed to live on in the nightmare that slave sales were.

"Let's move out. One team in each car and your guide will take you to your entry point. Move into position and wait for the go-ahead."

On his way to the car, Jace checked his gear. He had knives easily accessible in his belt, double side arms, and a concealed one on his ankle. It was too cliché for words, but could save his life. He had a high-pressure epi-pen-resembling syringe with a potent sleep drug to give the girl if she became hysterical. The rest of his team had them too, if they got to her before him.

The drive was silent. Rami sat there, twiddling with a brutal-looking army knife, making him seem even scarier than he already looked in his all-black attire with guns, more knives, and a police baton in his belt. He wielded a stun gun and recharges too.

Rami meant business, and it was his sole job to protect Jace and the girl when they got her.

Malachai, on the other hand, looked like he was on his way to a movie with his casual leaning back and only a knife and two guns as weapons. Though his appearance, they should not write him off. He was as deadly at hand-to-hand combat as Jace. He knew tricks that would be enough to keep people busy while the others did their jobs.

Anthon, their driver, parked a bit away and led them closer through a forested area to their entry point, where he was supposed to wait for their return and lead them back to the car and drive them to safety with the girl.

The two team members with bolt cutters sat ready near the large fence, and the snipers stood by behind them to enter first. Their team of enforcers would go next. Jace, Rami, and Malachai would go in last to be safe. They should rendezvous with three other teams at the left side of the house where Roarke had told them that the slaves were held before the pre-sale viewing.

It was not a certainty that it would be the same setup on the night of the sale.

Everything was a calculated gamble.

"Fences are down," a cracking voice said over the comms.

Nobody wasted any time. The fence got cut, and the snipers went in and laid low, waiting to see what happened.

Jace drew in a hard breath, steadying himself. He cleared his mind and prepared himself for tunnel vision with only one goal in mind.

Soft zaps sounded and unmistakable canine yelps and whining sounded in the silent night.

"Fuck, I hate when we have to take down dogs," Rami whispered. He loved animals and each time they went in and encountered some, he died a little inside.

"Relax, big guy," Jace whispered. "They're only hit with tranquilizer darts. They'll wake up safe and sound."

"I still don't like it."

"I know, but block it out. We've got a job to do."

They waited.

Finally, the go-ahead sounded from the other team leaders that no more canines were attacking. Jace, too, had confirmed from his end.

They moved in fast.

The cover of darkness was a blessing, and the night vision goggles helped a lot. Once his entire team was situated against the house wall below the windows, Jace put on his work persona. Slowly, he lifted to peek inside the room.

The room was everything he had imagined when told it was an estate owned by a rich prick. Gold, white, expensive paintings, picture-perfect furniture, and nice polished floors. If it were not for the people in there, it would have been a nice room to behold.

There were plenty of what looked to be slaves in the grand parlor, and a shitload of security people monitoring the more or less naked men and women in there. None of them had on restraints. They either stood or sat quietly in waiting. The large, evil-looking security people had whips, riding crops, and batons ready, which probably was why all the slaves stayed in total compliance.

Jace studied all of them, but the girl they were looking for was not there.

"She's somewhere else," Jace whispered into the comms to inform the others. "I'll move to the next parlor to see if it's the auction room and if she's there."

Confirmation from the other teams came in clicking sounds through their earpieces.

"Stay put, give me a few minutes," he whispered and crawled along the wall to the next parlor.

What he saw in there was a horrifying sight.

In large, comfy chairs around the room, that looked like the other parlor, sat men and women with drinks in hand and a number plate for bidding resting on their laps. Some casually talked with each other, smoking cigars, and a few even got pleasured by the slaves at their feet.

Not all of them had personal slaves with them, it seemed, but the host had house slaves walk around, serving drinks and servicing if needed. The host's slaves were easily recognizable because of their dress code of red leather harnesses, red leather hoods only allowing the eyes to show, small holes for the nose to breathe, and ring gags tightly lodged in their mouths for easy entry.

Fear gripped Jace at the sight.

He knew the setup all too well. Though he had not been inside the slave trade side of the depravities of rich people, he had been part of the BDSM sickos' world. It was basically the same, except where Jace had been, the slaves and subs were not sold like cattle and had been there willingly – more or less.

From his spot near a set of double doors to the garden, Jace peeked in past the two security men, standing with their backs to the door.

At the far wall, near a door leading into the house, he saw Roarke sit with a drink and a blank expression on his face as he petted a house slave on the head who sat at his feet. Jace had never seen Roarke when inside on a job. It was a scary sight, and even worse to know how he had to play along with the others in the room to do his job.

What he noticed most was the tiny hand gesture Roarke repeatedly made that at first made no sense. He lifted his hand slightly, unfolded his fingers, and then lowered his hand again. He did it over and over and for others, it could look like he had a cramp or something.

He did it several times before Jace understood.

Roarke had no way of knowing when the operation would set in. All the people in there had most likely been searched and stripped of phones and anything that could act as a communication device. Anything traceable. He had to communicate with his men outside somehow, and the hand signals suddenly made sense. He was asking for five minutes, hoping that somebody on the outside understood.

Jace luckily did.

So, he decided to wait.

A fairly well-kept man in his early to mid-fifties stepped up on the small stage at one wall where everybody in the room could see him. He was undoubtedly the business mogul and owner of the estate. The way he carried himself, with self-entitled smugness, the fancy tuxedo, and an evilly amused glint in his eyes, made him appear in control. It was impossible to hear what he said, and Jace deducted his own conclusions on that, as people seemed to smile and cheer.

Three slaves, a man and two females, fully naked in tight leather bondage, were led into the room by more security goons and forced onto their knees on the stage. They had not come from the parlor Jace had already looked into, but from a room at the back of the parlor. Callie was there. He recognized her from the pictures he had seen of her. She looked broken and scared. They had done her blonde hair in a sort of old movie star hairdo, like Marilyn Monroe's. Her makeup was sharp and too adult for a girl like her. And though Jace saw parts of her body that he had not wished to see and had not seen in the pictures, he was certain that it was her.

He was about to give the clear for his teams to come closer to storm the place, when he saw Roarke stand up and walk over to the stage, still doing the thing with his hand.

Again, Jace decided to wait.

Roarke and the man on stage conversed for a few moments before a leash got attached to Callie's collar and the goon made her stand in front of Roarke. The man, who smirked and nodded in approval, gave the leash to Roarke.

Apparently, Roarke had won the bid before they got there.

Callie cried and tried to get away when Roarke took hold of the leash, the security goon lifted his hand to strike her, from what Jace could see, but an angry-looking Roarke stopped him and seemed to yell something at the guy, who let his hand drop and did not touch Callie.

Whatever he said to Callie did not look to calm her. She complied and stepped down from the stage to follow Roarke, who had a tight hold on the leash on his way to the door.

Again, Roarke did the thing with his hand.

First five fingers, then two, and a thumbs up.

Over and over until he reached the door, where he disappeared into the house.

For the life of him, Jace could not figure out what those signals had meant. He wished he was smarter and knew how to interpret subtle signs like that.

Breathe...

He cleared his mind and put everything else away, focusing only on Roarke and what he had done. Phoenix had told him he was smart; the course he was doing had only confirmed it. Jace knew people and how to read them. If he took a moment to calmly think about it, he would know the answer.

Five. Two. Thumbs up.

Five...

Oh, fuck!

"Roarke's got her. He's taking her upstairs to the second floor. We need distractions at the parlors, and my team will go in through the front where the stairs are hopefully close by. We need to do a room-by-room search to find them."

"Ok, team four and eight from the back move to Jace's position. Teams eleven and eighteen move to the first parlor. Jace, take your teams to the front and be careful if there are guards. All report back when in position." Dutan ordered without complaints from anybody. His word was law, and people did as told.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in position, and things suddenly moved fast.

An explosive charge, placed on the front door lock and on the different doors into the parlors around the house, for maximum impact, simultaneously blew, creating chaos all over the ground floor, and people stormed in.

Jace ran in behind his snipers and enforcers from the teams he had with him. The front entrance was the most dangerous entry point because they had not had eyes on the hall inside. There could be none or twenty armed guards waiting for them when the door opened. One team stayed on the ground floor to protect the exit point and incapacitate the guards there until more teams could aid them, and the rest of them continued up the grand stairs.

There was no time to admire the beautiful and expensive décor, no time to care about what they broke or ruined on their way. They had one goal.

To get to the second floor and find Roarke and Callie.

Like a charging army, they plowed their way through whatever security they met on the way, losing man after man as they got left behind to fight. On the second floor, the remaining team members broke in the doors. Some rooms were empty, and some had clients with slaves in them. Very few of the clients put up a fight, but some apparently were not too smart and engaged with the team members, again, taking away from their numbers as a group.

However it pained them to leave most of the creeps alone, they continued to go room to room without hurting anybody intentionally, except for security men.

One room, Jace and Rami broke the door down to, had Jace's stomach in a knot. He instantly spotted four people.

The first one he noticed was a tall, fairly muscular man in his late forties, probably. He stood in only a pair of pants with his naked chest on display, holding a brutal-looking whip. His head snapped to the door when it crashed open, making his brown hair fall into his face, and his cold, pale-blue eyes displayed annoyance at the interruption but soon turned to shock at the sight of the black-clad men with weapons.

At his side sat a young boy, who could not be more than eighteen or nineteen, and clearly a slave from the looks of his chastity belt, leather collar, and bindings. That was not what shook Jace to the core. It was the fact that they had dressed him up like a dog. From the shaved head wearing a hairband with dog ears, the collar with large spikes on, and leather mittens on his hands, looking like paws, restricting him from using his hands. A muzzle gag was in his mouth and covered his lower face, and on the floor beside his leg a tail was visible, probably sticking out from the chastity belt or, more degrading, from a plug.

He was covered in bruises and welts that looked recent.

Though he did not move or do anything, he too looked up from his downcast position. Jace already knew a slave was not supposed to do that, but under the circumstances, it was to be expected.

The boy's green eyes had been dull when he lifted his completely shaved head, but it was almost as if the fake ears perked up. Sudden relief flooded his eyes, and his face showed all his hope as he looked at Jace with such begging it tore at him. The feeling inside and the image of those eyes turning pained with realization, as the men behind Jace started to leave, was enough to haunt Jace forever.

They were not there to rescue him, and the boy knew it.

Acceptance showed as he bowed his head again and waited for his nightmare to continue.

On the floor in front of the man and dog boy was another slave, tied on his knees with a spreader bar between his ankles to keep his legs apart. His arms were pulled under him and in between his legs, his wrists tied to his ankles, placing him in an uncomfortable hunched-over position, resting on his forehead and knees, with his back and ass easily accessible. The bloody gashes from the whip on his back showed the man had taken full advantage of the position the slave was in.

Jace surveyed the room to be sure Roarke was not there, though he had not expected Roarke to be in a joined room, and his eyes stopped on the last man.

Time stood still.

He had to fight to keep his stomach content down the moment he recognized the man who sat half-naked to the side to observe the scene in front of him. Those evil, brown eyes and dark brown hair. The muscles bulged under the open shirt, and the long legs in his unbuttoned pants.

It was all too familiar.

There was nothing he could do but back away and leave the room before he locked eyes with the man. He would have recognized Jace, too, and that could never happen. At that moment, Jace was glad they all wore black masks to cover their faces.

It was a surprise to see him again, but it was not really a surprise he would be in a place like that. Jace felt for the young boys at their mercy. He knew what lives they had to live.

To some extent, at least.

His thoughts were in turmoil when they broke down the remaining doors and finally found Roarke. He could not get the image of those begging green eyes out of his mind. It took everything he had to push down what he had just seen, and all the emotions ripping at him, to concentrate on the mission.

"You sick, twisted son of a bitch," Jace roared and moved forward toward a sitting Roarke, who had Callie resting in his arms.

He had wrapped her in a bedsheet, and she sat as calm as she could in the situation. Her arms Roarke had released from the leather bondage, but it did not seem like he had time to dress her properly. The thundering voice from Jace had her jumping in Roarke's arms. Roarke slowly got up and handed Callie to Rami while he yelled back at Jace with the same intensity.

It was part of the plan.

They had broken all the doors down, and if they did not put on a show for the people in the other rooms or fleeing in the hallway, Roarke's cover could get compromised. It was of the utmost importance they made it seem real to the possible prying ears outside.

"She's mine. I paid for her!"

"I should kill you right here," Jace barked back and landed a powerful punch to Roarke's chin, avoiding the nose to the best of his abilities. The punch split Roarke's lip and blood gushed down his white tuxedo shirt.

Roarke spat out some blood and focused on Jace, taking a fighting stance with his hands up. "I'll get her back." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and went after Jace with the same ferocity in his punches. "Mark my words, she'll always belong to me. I've wanted her since I saw her on sale. I'll deflower that little girl and make her mine forever."

Though there was strength and conviction behind the words, Jace saw how Roarke paled slightly when he yelled it. Never had he had more respect for Roarke than in that moment, knowing the things he had to see, do, and say to stay undercover in a persona that was despicable.

Jace and Roarke continued their fight, screaming profanities and arguing their side of the fight with each other, until Roarke apparently deemed it enough and stood down, waiting for Jace to land the finishing punch.

"Take care of her. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I'll raise hell about losing my purchase, and hopefully, they'll grant me access to another auction soon where we can save more," he whispered to not be heard by people, not in the know.

"Will do. There's a boy here, dressed as a dog belonging to some bigass brute. Get everything you can on him, please. As a personal favor," Jace whispered back.

"On it." Roarke nodded and closed his eyes a second before Jace landed the hit that knocked him out.

After having made sure that Roarke had not hurt himself when tumbling over, Jace turned his attention to Rami and Callie. "Are you ok, sweetheart?" Jace asked the trembling girl in Rami's arms. "We're here to bring you back to your parents."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, looking back and forth between Jace and Roarke on the floor. Her makeup had run, and her hair was not as pretty as it had been when Jace saw her in the parlor. She seemed unharmed, though. He wondered how hysterical she had been, and what Roarke had done to calm her enough to get her to understand and comply.

She side glanced at Roarke on the floor. "You hurt him?"

She deserved an answer, so Jace lowered his voice and spoke as gently as possible. "I know, but it's part of the plan. He's one of our men. I couldn't kill him, so I had to hurt him for it to look real. I promise, he'll be ok." Jace opened his arms to take her and free up Rami to protect them. "Come on, sweetheart, let's get you home."

"Thank you," Callie cried into his jacket and clung to him when he had a good grip on her in his arms.

"Relax, we've got you. No need to thank us," Jace whispered and nodded at Rami, who was ready with the rest of the team to plow their way out of there.

"Target secured, moving out," Jace called over the comms, and then they rushed out of the room and back down the hall to get downstairs and the fuck away from that house of hell.

The place gave him the fucking creeps.

Racing down the corridor with Callie in his arms, surrounded by men protecting them, and more joining from each room they passed, Jace could not stop himself from fleetingly looking inside the room where the dog boy and he had been. The room was empty; they had probably fled. Still, Jace's thoughts circled around what he had seen. He felt so deeply for the boy, that look in his eyes as if there was no reason to live, Jace knew, too.

The difference was that he had gotten away.

Because of Gareth.

If possible, Roarke's team would locate the boy and maybe help him. Nobody deserved to live like that, to have their life and dignity stripped and live in pain and belittlement at the hands of people who did not care about anything but themselves.

"Jace!" Malachai called out and jumped in front of him before a goon could get a punch in. "Run, I'll handle this."

Reality hit hard, ripping Jace from his chaotic thoughts of the past and sympathy with the boy.

He was on the job and had to concentrate.

"Follow me." Rami took point and bulldozed their way through the mayhem of security men, putting up a fight with Gareth's men.

Though it was the height of summer, and the night air was warm and welcoming, enveloping them as they made it out of the house, Callie still shivered in Jace's arms. She laid there, taking in deep breaths, and had her arms in a crushing grip around his neck. It made sense to Jace. She breathed in freedom, something the dog boy they had left behind could not.

In the safety of the van, Jace felt his tension leave him with each calm breath he felt Callie take as she rested against his chest. She had refused to leave his arms when they entered the van, and it did not bother him to hold her. She weighed next to nothing and looked at him like a caged bird, afraid of the big world after the cage had been opened. Whatever she needed to feel safe, he would give her.

The mission had been a success, and he could not wait to get a full report from the others at the safe house later.

Most importantly, he wanted to hear from Roarke.

Leaving him behind had not been easy. Naturally, Jace knew Roarke could take care of himself, but he was still in there alone and had to make it out on his own. Jace would not rest until he got word that Roarke was ok.

It took four hours, from they had arrived at the safe house, before Roarke finally made an appearance, and Jace got informed by another team member. Roarke was banged up but smiling and had a young woman in tow. He had been right in his assumption that they would compensate him somehow. They had offered a replacement slave to him as well as the promise of the first pick when the next shipment of high-quality goods arrived.

"Jace?"

Jace looked up from the bed where he had sat for hours, guarding over Callie, who had not been able to fall asleep without him there to keep her safe. She had made him check the window and door repeatedly before she had settled and finally got some rest.

"Roarke, I'm glad you're ok. How's the..." Jace pointed at his face to show that his own had taken a few hits too. He was glad to see Roarke had been patched up by the on-site medic and had gotten a shower and a change of clothes.

"I'll live." Roarke laughed and sat down, looking at Callie with a soft and proud gaze. "Remind me never to fight you for real."

"Trust me, mate, the feeling is mutual." Jace flexed his jaw to loosen up the stiffness in it. He would not cry about it. An ice pack would have made it a bit more bearable, though. Roarke could definitely hold his own and deliver a punch. "How's the other girl?"

"She's ok under the circumstances. She wants our protection and to live in another city than she did before, but has allowed us to contact her parents." Roarke nodded to himself. He was happy that he had gotten one more out from there, though it was never enough.

Sometimes, it felt like trying to empty the ocean with a sieve. Get one out and lose twenty in the process. Each new pre-sale viewing, or sales auction, showed that no matter what they did, it would never end.

"I'm sorry, Jace, but when I came to, most had already left the house. I have no idea who the boy you asked me to find is, or who his owner is. Maybe I can ask my men if they've encountered them. But so far, I've got no leads on it."

Hi dear Wattlings.

Thank you for reading.

Well, Jace's thoughts are on Phoenix quite a lot? Though he quickly got his mind on something else. The dog boy and the man... I bet y'all can't wait to know that story?

If you like it, then pop a vote and please leave comments. The comments are important for me to know how the story is progressing and the characters are developing. And I'd love to know what you think and interact with y'all.

Give me a follow too for updates on other work and put this book in your library. I'd appreciate that.

Love, Alix

Published: September 16th, 2021. ©Alix Davenport, Copenhagen