Page 80 of Rescuing Rebel
Understanding dawns in Ethan’s steady gaze. “You were trying to work your way into his inner circle.”
“I thought if I could prove my worth and gain his trust, he would give me access to records that might hold clues about Violet. But...” She looks away, pained. “Artemus saw more value in selling my body than using my skills. Your team found me before… Suffice it to say Nicaragua didn’t go as planned.”
Shame twists my gut.
“I don’t understand why you left us. You knew our capabilities.” Ethan chooses his words carefully. “Why didn’t you ask us for help?”
I close my eyes against the surge of emotion. “Because I didn’t need that kind of rescue. I needed access to records over a decade old, a chance to follow the trail myself. If I involved the Guardians, you’d shut down Haven before I could get the answers I needed. After you rescued me, all those years of work gaining contacts and intel were lost. So I disappeared. I was determined to start over, work my way up again in a different network.” Her jaw sets stubbornly. “That’s how I ended up with Kaufman. Before Artemus Gonzales threw me in that cell, I was able to find out that while his group abducted Violet, he traded her to another organization.”
“Why was that?”
“There’s a network ofclearing houses,for lack of a better name. These places talk to one another. They share unique finds and buyers who might be interested. I kept following the breadcrumbs until it led me to Haven.” I search Ethan’s face, willing him to comprehend. To stay by my side despite the blood on my hands.
It’s cost me so much to come this far; still, the search drags on. Ethan reaches out to squeeze my hand, a silent comfort.
“Violet’s gone,” I whisper, tears slipping free. “But, she made me promise to save her baby. That’s all that matters now. It’s why I couldn’t ask for help from the Guardians.”
“We would’ve helped.”
“I didn’t needthatkind of help.” I close my eyes. “I’ve done horrible things in trying to find my niece or nephew. If I asked for your help, Guardian HRS would’ve mounted a rescue and taken down Haven before I had the chance to get in and find any record of my sister.”
“Tell me about these clearing houses.”
“It’s founded on the premise that each operation has a unique offering of product and access to its unique pool of clients. It’s not uncommon to exhaust your client base or to have a client interested in a particular acquisition and not be able to fulfill that client’s needs. It’s kind of like a matching service.”
“You have to talk to our leadership about this. I don’t think we’ve considered such a thing. If you want help finding your niece or nephew, you have it.” He brushes a tear from my cheek. “But what you’re doing here… It’s wrong.” He brushes my hair off my face. “I can’t condone your methods. Forcing these women to embrace slavery? I can help you, but only if you stop what you’re doing here.”
I absorb this new knowledge, keeping my face carefully neutral.
“I swore to my sister I would find her child. There’s information here that can help me. I’m not stopping, but there’s more you should know…”
TWENTY-NINE
Ethan
Days after witnessingKaufman’s depravity in the bowels of Haven, unease gnaws at me. We’re running out of time before our cover is blown. I stand with my team in the control center with the tapping of keyboards filling the room as my team works.
Kaufman enters unexpectedly to check our progress. “Any issues to report?” he asks, scrutinizing our busy activity.
Stitch surreptitiously notifies Mitzy, who then launches a well-timed cyber-attack against Haven.
“Smooth sailing so far,” I assure him. “My team has everything under control.”
Kaufman nods, prowling behind Stitch and Jeb’s chairs. “Let’s hope so.”
Suddenly, alarm klaxons blare, and red lights flash. Jeb’s monitor shows a spike in activity.
“Here we go again.” Stitch leans back and cracks her knuckles. She turns to Kaufman. “This is what a mess your security protocols are. You’re being attacked daily. It’s relentless.”
“We’ve got incoming. DDoS attack attempting system overload.” Jeb’s fingers fly across the keyboard as he works to counteract the distributed denial-of-service attack overwhelming Haven’s servers.
Stitch jumps in to assist, firewalls and safeguards popping up on her monitors.
I watch the inbound traffic spike on Stitch’s screen as Mitzy’s bot hammers Haven’s systems.
“East wing servers are wavering,” Stitch reports. “Rerouting traffic to shore them up.”
“Initiating lockdown protocols.” Jeb is right on her heels.