Page 97 of Wicked and Claimed

“And?”

“It’s a fucking marketplace. High-end merchandise, they call it. But they’re not selling rugs.”

“I know,” Nash choked. “Haisley and I caught a glimpse last night.”

Trees leaned forward, his massive frame taut with tension. “Then you know where I’m going with this. New ‘acquisitions’ are usually listed within twelve hours.” Trees’s voice gentled, as if softening a blow. “Like I said, it took me a while to hack in past multiple layers of security, and I’ve been monitoring the site since I got in.” Trees’s jaw clenched. “But once I did…”

“Haisley?” Her name caught in his throat.

Nash’s heart stuttered.No. God, no.

Trees nodded grimly. “Sorry.”

The implication hit him like a physical blow. It took everything inside him not to fall apart. “Show me.”

As Trees logged in, Nash’s hands curled into fists. On the screen, ornate rugs filled the homepage, each with a staggering price tag—enough to buy a lavish house.

“Here.” Trees clicked a nondescript link labeled Custom Orders. A password prompt appeared.

“Damn it?—”

“Already got it from Benedict’s phone.” Trees typed rapidly. “This view is more…explicit. So you need to prepare yourself.”

“Let me see.” The screen filled with photos. Women. Girls. Each with a description that made Nash’s stomach turn. Multiple pictures. Multiple poses. All naked. All degrading. All disgusting.

“I searched for new listings in the past hour and…” Trees applied the filter. Three results appeared—one that nearly killed him.

Nash’s heart stopped. “Click on her.”

Trees did. Nash’s vision tunneled, the room tilting sideways as bile rose in his throat.

Against a nondescript white wall, there she stood under the clinical lighting. Haisley’s face was tear-streaked but defiant, despite the fear shadowing her eyes. Every detail branded itself into his brain.

The listing beneath suggested a retail value that made his blood run cold.

“I’ll kill them.” The words came out in a growl. “Every last one of these sons of bitches. They’re dead.”

“We’ll help.” Trees gripped his shoulder. “But first we need a plan. Look.” He pointed to a string of numbers and letters below Haisley’s photo. “Auction details. They’re not even trying to hide their business model. They think they’re untouchable.”

“Or they’re so confident in their security that they don’t care who knows.” Nash memorized the coordinates.

“There’s something else you need to see.”

He clicked another link. A document filled the screen—some sort of intake form. Nash scanned it, his vision blurring with fury as he reached the bottom.

“Subject displays optimal breeding characteristics.”

Were these animals not merely planning to sell Haisley, but force her to carry her rapist’s child?

Holy shit.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. Years ago, he’d told her flat-out that he never wanted children. She’d never said a word, but he’d sworn he saw something—sadness?—flicker in her eyes before she’d changed the subject. Now she might have the fundamental right to control her own body stripped and be forced to conceive by a stranger who bought her.

It was all Nash could do not to tear apart his brother’s office. Only his respect for Trees and the fact it would do nothing but waste time stopped him.

“I can prep you backup identities,” his brother said quietly. “Untraceable. Hunter’s already given me latitude to do whatever I have to. Whatever you need, little brother.”

Nash stared at Haisley’s photo, at the fierce light in her eyes that not even fear could dim. “I’m going to need money. Millions and millions of dollars. Where the fuck are we going to get that?”

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