CHAPTER 131
The safe house Lucas had arranged was a nondescript apartment building in a neighborhood that minded its own business. As we climbed the stairs to the third floor, I could feel the weight of what we'd just done settling on my shoulders like a lead blanket.
My father was dead. Really dead this time.
The child we'd rescued - her name was Emma, we'd learned - hadn't spoken since we pulled her from that cage. She sat curled up on the couch now, clutching a stuffed animal one of us had bought from a gas station, her dark eyes tracking every movement in the room.
Claire was awake but barely responsive, the trauma of her capture and whatever my father had done to her leaving her in a state of shock. A doctor Lucas trusted had examined both girls and assured us they would recover physically, but the psychological scars would take much longer to heal.
"Seventeen locations hit simultaneously," Lucas reported, closing his laptop. "Federal agents recovered over two hundred victims, arrested forty-three suspects, and seized enough evidence to bring down the entire network."
"Any sign of William?" Harry asked from his position by the window, where he'd been watching the street for the past hour.
"Nothing. He's either dead or he's gone underground so deep we'll never find him."
I should have felt relief. Victory. Something other than the hollow emptiness that had taken up residence in my chest since watching that warehouse burn. But all I could think about were the girls we hadn't saved, the ones who'd been moved or killed before we could reach them.
"Skylar?" Jax's voice was gentle as he sat down beside me on the small couch. "Talk to me."
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
"No, you're not. None of us are."
He was right. Harry stood rigid at the window, his body language screaming barely controlled violence. Lucas hadn't stopped working since we'd arrived, throwing himself into organizing the aftermath as if staying busy could keep his demons at bay. And Jax... Jax was watching me with the same careful attention he'd shown in those first days after my suicide attempt, like he was afraid I might shatter at any moment.
"How many do you think we missed?" I asked quietly.
"Skylar..."
"How many girls are still out there because we were too late? Because I wasn't smart enough to figure out my father's plan sooner?"
Jax took my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. "You can't save everyone. No one can."
"But I could have saved more. If I'd been better, faster, smarter..."
"If you'd been any of those things, you'd be dead right now," Harry said bluntly, turning away from the window. "Jack was counting on your need to save everyone. He used it against you, and it almost worked."
"It did work. He got exactly what he wanted."
"Which was what?"
"To prove that I'm just like him." I pulled my hand away from Jax and stood up, pacing to the other side of the small room. "You should have seen me in that warehouse. The calculations I was making, the way I was willing to sacrifice those girls if it meant stopping him. That's not heroism - that's exactly the kind of cold pragmatism he spent eighteen years trying to teach me."
"Bullshit," Lucas said, looking up from his computer. "You saved Emma. You risked your life to free Claire even though she'd betrayed us. That's not something Jack would have done."
"Isn't it? He kept me alive for eighteen years when it would have been easier to kill me. He showed mercy when it served his purposes."
The room fell silent except for the quiet sounds of the city outside. I could feel all three of them watching me, trying to figure out how to pull me back from the edge I was walking.
But the truth was, I wasn't sure I wanted to be pulled back. For the first time in my life, I understood my father's perspective. The cold clarity that came from accepting that sometimes good people had to do terrible things. The freedom that came from letting go of the naive belief that there was always a perfect solution.
"What are you thinking?" Harry asked carefully.
"I'm thinking we're not done," I said, turning to face them. "William is still out there. The network may be broken, but the demand that created it hasn't disappeared. New organizations will spring up to fill the void, and they'll learn from my father's mistakes."
"So what do you want to do about it?"
The question hung in the air like a challenge. I could see in their faces that they already knew what I was going to say, and they were afraid of it.
"I want to make sure this never happens again. To anyone."
"Skylar," Jax said slowly, "what exactly are you proposing?"
"I'm proposing we stop reacting and start preventing. We use everything we learned about the network, all the contacts and connections we discovered, to hunt down every person involved in trafficking. Not just arrest them - eliminate them."
"You're talking about becoming vigilantes," Lucas said.
"I'm talking about becoming what the system can't be - effective."
Harry moved closer, his expression unreadable. "And you think that's what Jack wanted? To turn you into a killer?"
"I think Jack wanted to turn me into him. But what if there's a third option? What if I can take his teachings and use them for something good?"
"That's not how it works," Jax said urgently. "Darkness doesn't become light just because you have good intentions. It consumes you, changes you, makes you into something you won't recognize."
"Maybe. But maybe that's a price worth paying if it saves lives."
The look of horror on their faces should have been enough to make me reconsider. These were the men I loved, the people who'd saved me, who'd shown me what real love and loyalty looked like. The thought of losing their respect, their love, should have terrified me.
Instead, I felt nothing but cold determination.
"I need some air," I said, heading for the door.
"Skylar, wait," Harry called, but I was already in the hallway.
As I walked down the stairs and out into the night, I could hear them arguing behind me. Voices raised in worry and frustration, the sound of chairs scraping and feet pacing.
They were afraid of what I was becoming. And they should be.
Because as I stood on the sidewalk looking up at the stars, I realized that my father had won after all. Not by breaking me, but by showing me exactly how much power there was in being broken.
The only question now was whether the men I loved would stand with me in the darkness, or if I'd have to walk this path alone.
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