I pulled him away from the child so hard he hit the floor on his side and started shouting.
He didn’t get far.
One strike to the stomach folded him.
Another to the neck dropped him.
When he tried to crawl, I kicked him back down.
Then I went to the bed, lifted the child into my arms, and asked softly, “He’s not your father, is he?”
The child shook their head against my shoulder.
“What’s your name?”
A tiny voice answered, “Mia.”
“Mia, listen to me. Go to my room. Lock the door. Sleep if you can. When morning comes, I’m taking you away from here.”
Mia clung to me and wouldn’t let go.
I had to crouch and hold that small trembling body twice before the child finally nodded.
I noticed then that the chocolate I’d given earlier was still hidden inside the child’s clothes.
“Saving it?” I asked.
Mia whispered, “Can I eat it with you when you come back?”
I swallowed once and said yes.
When the child ran to my room, I turned back to Hank.
He was staring at me like I was insane.
“What are you?” he whispered.
I shut the curtains. Lit a candle. Took out rope.
“Someone asking the questions now.”
He talked faster than I expected.
Men like him always act fearless right up until they realize there is no help coming.
By the end of it, I had everything I needed.
This village wasn’t just involved in trafficking.
It was built on it.
Girls were brought here first, broken here, traded from here.
Most of the wives in the village had been bought the same way.
Even daughters born here were sometimes sold off through the same network.
And the businessman’s daughter—the one I had come for—was being held in the chief’s cellar.
I was satisfied.
Hank begged me to let him go. Promised silence. Promised cooperation. Promised anything.
I stuffed cloth in his mouth and looked at him for a long moment.
Then I said quietly, “Once, there was a little kid hurt by a man like you.”
He stared at me, trembling.
“She reached a breaking point so many times she stopped knowing what living was supposed to feel like.”
I didn’t raise my voice.
Didn’t need to.
“Tonight, you can sit with yourself and think about what you are.”
Then I left him behind, blew out the candle, checked on Mia one last time, tucked the blanket around that small sleeping shape, and stepped out into the night.
I moved through the village by memory, avoiding the camera angles I had mapped during the day.
At the chief’s courtyard, I first found the dog.
A piece of drugged beef solved that problem quietly.
Then I threw two small stones at the front door.
A gruff voice inside called out.
I threw a third.
The door opened.
The chief stepped into the yard half-dressed.
I fired a restraint launcher disguised as a hair dryer.
The cord wrapped him instantly and slammed his arms to his sides before he could shout.
I jumped from the wall, gagged him, and started toward the door.
That was when I sensed someone waiting just behind it with a blade.
I stepped back.
Kicked the chief to his knees.
Then I said softly into his ear, “Watch carefully. This happens once.”
I backed up two steps, sprinted forward, and drove my boot through the door so hard it blasted inward.
The wood crashed onto the person behind it.
A knife clattered across the floor.
I followed the door in and ended the fight before the man beneath it could recover.
The chief’s son, as it turned out.
On the bed, a disheveled woman sat frozen under a blanket, staring at me with hollow, stunned eyes.
Victim or accomplice, I didn’t know yet.
So I tied everyone first.
Questions later.
Then I dragged the chief to the cellar door.
He nodded frantically when I showed him the photo.
Yes.
She was down there.
When I unlocked the cellar and pulled the door open, a terrified voice floated up from below.
“You’re back again?”
I shoved the chief down the stairs and said, “Your father sent me. I’m here to get you out.”