Page 34 of Broken Innocence
We usually send a clean-up crew to wipe away the evidence of our presence, but not this time.
We want Fabian to see the carnage.
We want everyone to know that the Blackchapel Bastards won’t stand for human trafficking in our city.
***
It’s dawn by the time I return to the manor. Dmitri and the rest of the guys are transporting the women we found to Polina’s Place—Dmitri and Aleksei’s safe haven for victims of abuse—but they don’t need my help anymore. I’ve got my own woman tocheck on. Especially after witnessing the terror cloaking those we rescued.
The bedroom door silently opens to reveal Eden sprawled across our bed with Beanie holding court at the bottom of the mattress, her intelligent eyes tracking my steps. She must have had enough of Eden’s cuddling and decided to keep watch as her mistress’s sentry.
“It’s been a while since you’ve caught me sneaking into our girl’s room, huh?” I whisper, petting her soft head. She’s used to my clandestine antics. Beanie purrs, butting herself harder into my scratches, while I let the night’s activities drift away, enjoying the immediate peace just being near Eden causes.
Pale yellow light creeps over the floor and comforter in a single beam to highlight Eden’s relaxed features. Her mouth is slightly open, slow and steady puffs of air filling the quiet. Her fingers hold a fistful of the charcoal blanket under her chin.
She looks so innocent.Angelic. Tearing my eyes away, I escape her thrall to shower off the dirt and blood clinging to me. I don’t mind dirtying my sweet wife, but with sex and filthy words whispered in her ear, not the blood of other men.
The hot water washes over my body, and I lean against the tile for a moment, letting it carry away the evening’s activities, before scrubbing at my skin and hair. Steam rises in the air, and my eyes half-close from exhaustion. My movements become robotic. Automatic. Until I finally crawl into bed and curl an arm around Eden’s waist.
Sleep hovers around the edges of my consciousness when she twists around and blinks awake with an adorable yawn. “Where have you been? Did you just get home?”
“Yeah, Jonah and Hugo found shipping containers where Fabian was transferring women. It took some time and help from Dmitri and Blackthorn, but we rescued all the women at the docks. Thanks to you.” I press a kiss to her forehead.
Her eyes widen in shock, though she shakes her head in disagreement. “I didn’t do much. You and your brothers are the ones who actually saved them.”
“If it wasn’t for your gut instinct and the memory of that bracelet, we wouldn’t have known to even look for those women,” I say, recalling her concerns and the subsequent conversation I had with Rafe and the rest of the guys. Rafe immediately went into research mode, and it hadn’t taken long for him to find some questionable correspondence and bank statements between Fabian and his clients.
Eden hums in her throat noncommittally as her finger draws a random pattern on my arm. “I know the internet can be a dark place, but I still can’t believe those ASMR videos popped into my feed. That they led to this.”
“Fabian is smart, but he’s not clever enough to figure out that all the apps access IP addresses and tailor videos to users’ local surroundings. He thought hiding his tracks in innocuous-seeming massage videos and vague hashtags would be enough. But it only takes one person with a bad feeling and computer skills to deep dive and discover what he’s really up to. That’s you and Rafe.”
Eden nods thoughtfully before another yawn takes over.
“That’s enough for tonight. You’re still tired, and I’ve been up for hours. We can both use more sleep.”
“You more than me after what you’ve had to deal with.” She stretches to press a kiss to my collarbone then sighs. “Thank you for believing in me.”
“Always,” I murmur as we both drift off, our breaths evening out, our hearts beating together in a steady rhythm.
In sync.
As one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
EDEN
“Sorry for the chaos.” Jessie, the director at Polina’s Place, brushes her bangs to the side and offers an apologetic smile. Clothes litter the furniture like a tornado whipped through the living room of the remote farmhouse, when in reality it was two dozen rescued women who raided the much-needed clean tops and bottoms.
“Don’t worry about it. We can help organize everything again. That’s why we’re here,” I say after folding a tee and starting a stack in a clear place on the coffee table.
When I arrived at the manor after work—where Corey and my boss still pester me about my whirlwind marriage and the temporary hire sent to fill in during my long absence—I caught Allie on her way to Polina’s Place, and she asked if I’d like to join her.
After learning how many women Blackthorn rescued and sent to Polina’s Place, I couldn’t refuse the opportunity. They had to split the sizable group of survivors between two locations—the charity’s main hub in downtown Boston at a secure monolith and this cozy farm out in the country.
Well, mostly cozy…
A shadow crosses the living room window. Another Blackthorn soldier on sentry duty.
