Page 52 of Blake

As they made their way back toward the gala, cold determination settled over Blake. They now had the proof they needed to take Anderson down and save people like Chloe and Mia. There was no turning back; it was time for justice to be served.

The muted hum of the gala grew louder as Blake led Jax and Nash out of Anderson's office, their damning evidence secure. As they neared the main event floor, he caught snippets of a hushed conversation between two well-dressed men.

"Vases," one murmured. "You won't believe the quality."

"Really?" the other inquired, raising an eyebrow. "When's the auction start?"

"Soon. Follow me."

"Vases." The word sent a chill down Blake's spine. Why did people keep talking about vases like that? Since when did a bunch of high-profile businessmen give so much of a shit about fucking vases? He needed to see this auction for himself.

Blake locked eyes with Jax and Nash, inclining his head toward the men. They understood immediately, falling into step behind him as they pursued the voices.

They slipped into a side room, where a small stage had been set up, surrounded by plush, red velvet chairs, almost throne-like in appearance. A crowd gathered, anticipation palpable. The auctioneer stepped onto the stage.

"Welcome to tonight's exclusive auction," the man began, smiling broadly. "Our vases are one-of-a-kind, each hand-selected for your discerning taste."

One by one, scantily-clad girls paraded on stage holding expensive, but rather boring-looking vases. Their vacant, glazed eyes stared blankly ahead.

Blake's heart clenched in horror. It was obvious to him now, that it wasn’t the vases that were being sold at all. It was the girls.

"Jesus," Nash muttered, trying to keep his voice steady. "I think these girls are on drugs. Probably been given a low dose of GHB. That’s what’s making them so compliant."

Blake’s face paled. "They're barely older than kids."

“See the heavy make-up they’re wearing?” Nash whispered. “I’ll bet it’s hiding bruises.”

Blake’s mind raced, trying to figure out the best way to save these girls without blowing their cover. "We need to get them out of here."

As the bidding began, fury coursed through Blake's veins. Blood pounded in his ears, drowning out the murmur of the bidders around him. He scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of compassion or humanity, but found only leering eyes and greedy grins. Fuck. He couldn't stand by and watch these girls be sold like chattel. But he had to be smart—he owed it to them, to Savannah, to his sister Chloe.

"Jax, can you get anything on the bidders?" he asked, barely able to look away from the nightmarish scene unfolding before him.

"I'm on it," Jax murmured, discreetly tapping into the auction system with his phone.

"Nash, I need you to find us a way out as soon as we've got what we need."

"Already on it," Nash confirmed, scanning the room for potential escape routes.

As each girl stepped forward, Blake took note of their faces, committing them to memory. He would find a way to bring them all home, even if it killed him.

Then, one girl caught his eye in particular, and his gut twisted in recognition. It was her—Sadie. The woman who had come to the Haven to tell him and Savannah about her kidnap. Shit. The poor thing had been so scared of getting caught again.

"We're going to burn this whole thing to the ground," Blake muttered through gritted teeth.

"Five thousand for this lovely vase. Very smooth and freshly made, this one. A rare, natural beauty. Do I hear six?" the auctioneer called out, his tone sickeningly jovial.

Alderman Anderson stood nearby, sipping champagne and chatting casually with potential buyers. The casual disregard for human life turned Blake's stomach. He clenched his jaw, his eyes scanning the room as he moved around the crowd, capturing discreet footage on his phone.

"Seven thousand!" a bidder shouted, raising his paddle in the air.

"Sold! A fine addition to your collection," the auctioneer declared with a twisted smile.

Anderson's laughter grated on Blake's nerves, fueling his anger. He edged closer to the alderman, catching snippets of conversation about the girls' backgrounds and prices.

"Where did you find this one? It’s exquisite," a bidder asked, eyeing one of the girls hungrily.

"Eastern Europe. The vase will be worth every penny, I’m sure," Anderson replied, smirking.

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