Page 54 of No Longer Mine

Alexei rolled his eyes. “You get off on this shit, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer. I just slid out of the SUV, the night air wrapping around me like a second skin. The distant hum of the city was muffled out here, replaced by the rhythmic lap of water against the docks, the occasional creak of metal shifting in the wind. I kept the phone pressed to my ear for just a second longer.

“Two men are posted at the back entrance. They look bored.”

Good. Bored men were lazy men. I slipped into the shadows, moving silently between shipping containers, my steps careful, controlled. I wasn’t planning to kill anyone tonight.

The two guards at the back entrance were exactly as Benson described—bored. One was leaning against the rusted metal of the warehouse wall, puffing on a cigarette, while the other scrolled through his phone, barely glancing up.

I crept closer, pressing my back against a nearby shipping container, just within earshot.

“Man, this shift is bullshit,” the smoker muttered, exhaling a stream of smoke into the night air. “No action. Nothing ever happens here.”

The one on his phone smirked. “The last thing we want is action. Boss wouldn’t take kindly to that. We are simply here to make money, and it’s easy money anyway.”

I slipped past them easily and climbed the stairs beside the building. This place was rundown but I still didn’t understand why we didn’t keep men here to patrol it. But then again, we was such a loose term. We should have been doing all of this with Ace considering these docks were actually our father’s.

Realization slammed through me as I stopped in the shadows. This wasn’t our father’s doing, was it? He owned this pier. We needed to find out who Cavalier was and fast. If it was our father, then we needed to be prepared.

I kept to the steel stairwell, each step careful, the rusted metal groaning slightly beneath my weight. The upper levels of the warehouse were lined with walkways, metal catwalks crisscrossing the space, giving me the perfect vantage point.

Below, workers moved like clockwork—silent, efficient, and clearly disciplined. Whatever was happening here, it was bigger than just another shipment. I crouched against the railing, watching, listening.

One man, broader than the rest, paced near a stack of crates marked with coded labels. His posture was rigid, his presence commanding. Not a lackey. A lieutenant, maybe.

He checked his watch, then pulled out his phone. “It’s here,” he muttered into the receiver, his voice low but distinct. “Tell Boss we’re ready.” I exhaled slowly. So it wasn’t just a drop-off. Someone was coming. That meant I had time.

I stayed low as I moved along the catwalk, careful not to draw attention. The air smelled of salt and rust, mingling with the faint acrid scent of oil. The sound of distant waves slapping against the docks provided a rhythmic backdrop to the murmurs below.

I pressed my body into the shadows, and shouts rang out below. My back straightened as I let out a breath and prepared for a fight. But they weren’t yelling about me; they were yelling about something else. The front entrance opened, and a pack of men breezed into the room. They each had massive weapons strapped to their thick black uniforms. And at the back of them? Father dearest.

His voice rang through the room, loud and commanding. “What do you have for me, boys?”

My heart hammered in my chest as I watched him step into the room. It was strange seeing him do business, especially since Ace was usually the one doing it for him. Was he in on this? He’d tipped me off about Cassie, but did that mean he was ready to dismantle everything Father built, like Alexei and I were? Probably not.

One of the men stepped forward and unlatched the biggest shipping container. A cry echoed through the room as the doors were unbolted. I pressed my fist into my mouth to keep myself from crying out at what was revealed.

Women.

One of them rushed forward, tripping over the women around her. Her blond hair was matted to her face, there was bruising around one of her eyes. “Pomoshch!” Help.

The guard who unlatched the container reached forward and slammed his gun into the side of her head. She fell backward into the other women. Not a single one of them rushed to her aid. They watched her fall. My father took a step forward and raised his hand. “Now, now, Jacobs. We don’t want to scare them.” He looked at the women blinking against the light blasting their faces and spoke to them in Russian. “Ty syechash v bezopasnosti.” You are safe now.

Bull fucking shit.

They were packed like cargo, their wrists bound, their eyes wide and terrified. Some whimpered, others sobbed, and a few were deathly silent, their expressions blank with resignation. A slow, seething rage coiled in my gut, curling its fingers around my spine and tightening.

This wasn’t just weapons. It wasn’t just business. This was something even filthier, even lower than I ever expected from my father.

My nails bit into my palms as I forced my breath to stay even. Losing control wasn’t an option—not yet. Not when I was so outnumbered.

“Beautiful,” my father turned back to his men and murmured, stepping forward to inspect the cargo. He ran a gloved hand along the edge of the crate, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. “Where’s the rest?”

There were more? I ran my hand down the bottom of my face. Ace couldn’t be a part of this. Right?

I let out a breath.

A stocky man with a thick accent—the apparent leader of this operation—gestured to another crate beside it. “Anothershipment is coming in two days. This is the first batch. Prime quality. Virgins, most of them. The best from their cities.”

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