That afternoon, I had Hank show me around the village.
Most homes were old single-story compounds with packed earth walls and stone mixed in. Only one place stood apart—a three-story house with security cameras pointed in every direction.
That house belonged to Jonah Pike.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Bare-chested when he first walked into Hank’s yard later that day with dried blood on his arms from hunting.
Everyone deferred to him.
Even the village chief.
That told me Jonah was the real power here.
When I heard a woman next door crying and a man cursing at her, my expression darkened before I could hide it.
Jonah noticed.
He turned to me with an almost amused look and said, “Country marriages are like that. The more he beats her, the better she learns.”
Hank laughed along like it was wisdom.
I smiled tightly and said nothing.
But in my head, I had already marked Jonah’s name beside the word first.
During the village walk, I played a song out loud from my phone. A Cantonese ballad the missing girl’s father had told me she loved more than anything.
If she could hear it, maybe she’d react.
Maybe she’d knock on something. Cry out. Give me anything.
Nothing.
No sound. No sign.
Which meant either she was hidden underground… or she was already gone.
By evening, the signal in the village started cutting in and out. Hank claimed that was normal in the mountains.
It wasn’t.
Near the entrance, I had already spotted a signal jammer strapped to a utility pole.
These people had thought of everything.
That night, after dinner, Hank brought me a bottle of hawthorn juice and pushed it on me with a smile too eager to be casual.
I almost laughed.
Same trick. No imagination.
I told him I was allergic.
He looked disappointed.
He had no idea I was doing him a favor by refusing. If he died too early, the whole village would turn watchful before I had what I needed.
I went to bed fully clothed, planning my next move.
Ten minutes later, someone knocked.
“Haven’t fallen asleep yet, have you?” Hank called through the door.
“I’m tired,” I said. “Whatever it is, tomorrow.”
He didn’t leave.
Instead, I heard a key slide into the lock.
That surprised me.
Cowards sometimes become bold when they think they have numbers behind them.
He came in breathing hard, shut the door, and stood over my bed in the dark.
“What do you want?” I asked.
He swallowed. “You. If you stay with me, maybe I can stop them from selling you tomorrow.”
Then he lunged.
I let him think he had the advantage for exactly three seconds.
Then I changed tactics.
I softened my voice. Leaned close. Let him think I might be persuadable.
I told him I liked rough men.
That city guys were weak.
He practically melted.
But when I casually implied that none of the other men had touched me because they were afraid of “catching something,” everything changed.
He recoiled so fast it was almost funny.
“You sick or something?”
I pulled a bottle from my bag and shook it in the dark.
“Nothing serious. You just take medicine every day together.”
It was chocolate in a pill bottle.
He didn’t know that.
He cursed me out and stumbled from the room in disgust.
I exhaled slowly once he was gone.
Maybe that lie would buy me until morning.
Then, from the other room, I heard a child start screaming.
Not a nightmare.
Not sleep talking.
Real panic.
Real fear.
My fist clenched before I could stop it.
I knew I was supposed to wait.
I knew I was supposed to gather more.
I knew tonight wasn’t ideal.
Then I told my own caution to go to hell and kicked Hank’s bedroom door off its hinges.