Page 155 of Auctioned Innocence
“What are you thinking?” he asks, voice rough with satisfaction and love.
I look at my ring, catching emerald fire in the moonlight filtering through our windows, and think about the tiny life we created. The family we’re building. The peace we’ve finally earned after so much violence and chaos.
“That some cages set us free,” I say softly. “That sometimes the darkest paths lead us exactly where we’re meant to be.”
His kiss is sweet, perfect, full of promises for tomorrow and all the tomorrows after that.
“I love you,” he whispers against my lips. “Both of you. Always.”
I smile, feeling our baby safe between us, our family whole, our future bright and full of infinite possibility.
“Always,” I whisper back, the word that’s become our promise, our certainty, our forever.
EPILOGUE: SOFIA
ONE YEAR LATER
The abandoned warehouse in Prague looks exactly like the intelligence reports promised—decrepit from the outside, but Kira’s thermal imaging shows it’s been converted into a high-security facility. Madame Rouge’s final hideout.
“Targets confirmed inside,” Kira’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Six guards, plus Rouge herself. She’s in the main office, second floor.”
Finding Kira again had been pure chance—a face I recognized in a Moscow café, both of us hunting the same shadows. The diplomat’s daughter had been using her father’s connections to track Rouge’s network while I followed the money trails. Two survivors with complementary skills and the same burning need for justice.
I check my weapons one final time, thinking of little Maisie back home with my parents. Three months old and already the center of our world. We named her after the girl who didn’t make it out—the one whose death I carry with me every day.
“Updates from the girls?” I ask quietly.
“Jessica’s doing well in therapy,” Kira reports through our encrypted channel. “Finally talking about what happened. Avafinished her first semester at Northwestern—full scholarship. Pre-law, naturally.”
Good. The girls we saved from the auction are building real lives, healing, becoming whole again. Every success story makes this hunt more personal.
“Natalie?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to know.
“Still struggles with crowds, but she’s working at that animal sanctuary in Montana. Says the horses understand silence.” Kira’s voice softens slightly. “Zoe’s been clean for eight months. Got her art into a gallery in Portland.”
Six survivors. Six girls who refused to stay broken. And one who didn’t make it out alive—the reason I’m here.
“And Rouge’s current operation?” Dante asks through comms from his position covering the rear exit.
“Sixty-three girls trafficked in the past year,” I say, my voice hardening. “Ages fourteen to twenty. Three confirmed deaths.” My hand drifts to the photo of baby Maisie tucked in my vest pocket. “She’s accelerating.”
Which is why this ends tonight.
We move. Dante and his team secure the perimeter while Kira and I infiltrate through the skylight she identified. The guards are good, but they’re not expecting a coordinated assault from someone who’s spent a year studying every aspect of Rouge’s operation.
The first guard goes down silently to Kira’s tranquilizer dart. The second doesn’t even see me coming before the pressure point strike drops him unconscious. We’re ghosts moving through her domain, using every skill I’ve acquired to dismantle the empire she built on broken girls.
“Second floor secured,” I whisper as we reach Rouge’s office door. Through the frosted glass, I can see her silhouette—still elegant, still poised, speaking quietly into a phone. Probably arranging another shipment of girls.
“Madame Rouge,” I say, stepping into her office with my weapon trained on her perfectly coiffed head. “Remember me?”
She doesn’t startle. Instead, she merely sets down her phone with deliberation and turns to face me. The same predatory poise, the same shrewd eyes that measured us like merchandise.
“Ah, Sofia Renaldi.” Her voice carries that same subtle French accent, cultured and dangerous. “Though I confess, you present quite differently than our last encounter. Motherhood, they say, changes a woman in the most…fundamental ways.”
The fact that she knows about Maisie—it feels like someone has wrapped a hand around my throat. But I keep my expression neutral. “You’ve been watching.”
“One monitors one’s investments, naturally.” Her painted lips curve in that horrible fucking knowing smile I remember from the auction. “Your transformation has beenquiteremarkable. From frightened girl to…what shall we call this? Avenging angel? Though I suspect your methods are far less divine.”
