The Syndicate's sex trafficking operation was next on our list. Callum had uncovered the exact location of their central hub—a luxurious-looking but decrepit private club hidden in the outskirts of the city, disguised as an exclusive retreat for high rollers. Inside, it was a dungeon of depravity, where victims were sold to the highest bidder.
We were parked a few blocks away, sitting in the back of Edward's armored SUV, discussing the plan. The engine idled quietly as tension simmered in the air. John sat in the corner, silent, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might snap.
"John, you ready?" I asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
He glanced at me, his eyes burning with something I hadn't seen before. "More than you know."
I nodded, letting it slide. I'd never seen him this quiet before a mission. Something was brewing beneath the surface, and I had a feeling it wouldn't stay there for long.
We slipped into the compound under the cover of darkness, scaling the wall behind the club. The cameras and guards were nothing Edward's men couldn't handle, giving us the opening we needed to infiltrate the building.
Inside, the air was heavy with the sickening blend of cheap cologne, cigarette smoke, and despair. Neon lights flickered on the cracked walls, casting an eerie glow over the maze of hallways. The sound of muffled cries and laughter from the Syndicate's clients echoed faintly, making my stomach churn.
"Stay sharp," I whispered into my comm.
Callum's voice crackled back, "I've got eyes on the upper levels. They're prepping for tonight's 'auction.' You've got fifteen minutes, tops."
We split up. I headed for the control room to disable the security systems, while John made his way toward the holding cells where the victims were kept.
The control room was lightly guarded, and I dispatched the two guards inside with swift precision. A quick chop to the neck here, a sleeper hold there—it was almost too easy.
I accessed the computer systems, my fingers flying across the keyboard. The screen flickered, and the cameras went dark one by one. I smiled to myself, satisfied.
"Security's down," I said into the comm. "John, how's it looking on your end?"
Silence.
"John?"
I heard a faint rustling, followed by heavy breathing. Then his voice, low and furious: "William… I found them."
my way toward the holding cells, following the sound of John's voice. The hallway ahead was lined with reinforced steel doors, each one a grim reminder of the horrors happening behind them.
I found John standing at the end of the corridor, staring into one of the cells. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white, and his entire body was trembling with rage.
Inside the cell were a group of women and young girls, their faces pale and tear-streaked. The sight was enough to make my blood boil, but what truly set John off was the list pinned to the wall.
Among the names was one that stood out: Bella Queen.
John ripped the paper off the wall, crumpling it in his hand. "She's here," he growled, his voice barely above a whisper.
Before I could respond, the sound of laughter echoed from the next room.
"Stay here," John ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I watched as he stormed toward the sound, his movements deliberate and deadly.
The room was filled with Syndicate members—at least twenty of them, laughing and drinking as they prepared for their disgusting 'business.' They didn't even notice John until he was right in their midst.
The first man barely had time to react before John slammed his head into the table, shattering the glass in his hand. Chaos erupted as the others scrambled for their weapons, but John was faster.
He moved like a storm, his fury propelling him forward. A knife flashed toward him, but he caught the attacker's wrist, twisting it until the blade clattered to the ground. A brutal punch to the throat followed, dropping the man instantly.
Another charged at him with a metal pipe, but John ducked under the swing and countered with a knee to the gut, followed by a devastating uppercut that sent the man sprawling.
Gunfire erupted, the sound deafening in the confined space. John grabbed a nearby chair, using it as a shield before hurling it at one of the shooters. The man went down, and John closed the distance, disarming another with a vicious elbow to the jaw.
One by one, they fell. John's movements were a blur—efficient, brutal, and terrifying. Blood splattered the walls as he tore through the Syndicate members like a man possessed.
By the time I caught up to him, the room was silent. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, groaning in pain or unconscious.
John stood in the center, breathing heavily, his fists stained with blood. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw the man he used to be—the one who would do anything to protect the people he loved.
"She's not here," he said, his voice hoarse. "But they know where she is. They'll tell me."
I glanced at the nearest Syndicate member, who was clutching his broken arm and whimpering. "You heard him," I said coldly. "Talk."
The man's eyes darted between us, filled with terror. "O-okay! She's… she's being held at the main auction house. Tomorrow night. That's all I know, I swear!"
John looked at me, his expression a mix of relief and determination. "We're getting her back," he said, his voice steady.
I nodded. "Damn right we are."
As we made our way back to the cells to free the victims, I couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for John. He wasn't just my best friend—he was a force to be reckoned with, and together, we were unstoppable.
The Syndicate had no idea what was coming.
The Syndicate's auction house was hidden deep within the industrial district—a sprawling, fortress-like building surrounded by warehouses and armed guards. From the outside, it looked like any other rundown storage facility, but inside, it was a glittering den of vice.
John and I sat in the back of Edward's armored SUV, our faces grim. This wasn't going to be easy. The Syndicate had pulled out all the stops for this event, and their best men were here.
"I counted at least fifty guards patrolling the perimeter," I said, my voice low. "And that's just the outside."
John checked his gear, his movements methodical. "Doesn't matter how many there are," he said, his voice like steel. "We're getting her out."
I nodded, my resolve hardening. Bella was more than just John's wife—she was family to both of us. And I'd be damned if I let the Syndicate win.
We infiltrated the compound through the sewer system, emerging into the basement. The air was thick with the stench of damp concrete and machinery, but it was quiet—too quiet.
"Stay sharp," I whispered, drawing my custom pistol.
John nodded, his own weapon at the ready.
We moved silently through the corridors, avoiding cameras and guards. The hum of voices grew louder as we neared the auction floor.
The auction room was massive, its walls lined with gilded mirrors and crimson curtains. A stage stood at the center, illuminated by harsh spotlights. Rows of wealthy bidders sat in plush chairs, their faces obscured by masks.
Behind the stage was a row of cages, each holding a terrified captive. And in the largest cage, chained and gagged, was Bella.
John's hand clenched around his weapon, his knuckles white. "There she is," he said, his voice trembling with rage.
"We stick to the plan," I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We can't save her if we get killed."
He nodded reluctantly, his eyes never leaving Bella.
The plan was simple: create chaos, take out the guards, and get Bella out. But as soon as we stepped into the room, the Syndicate's men spotted us.
"Hey! Intruders!" one of them shouted.
The room erupted into chaos. Guards poured in from every entrance, their weapons drawn.
"Showtime," I muttered, raising my pistol.
The first wave of guards came at us with guns blazing. I dove behind a pillar, returning fire with precision. My shots took out three men in rapid succession, their bodies hitting the ground before they could react.
John, meanwhile, was a force of nature. He moved like a predator, weaving through the crowd with terrifying efficiency. His knife flashed in the dim light, cutting down anyone who got too close.
One guard lunged at him with a baton, but John disarmed him with a brutal twist, then slammed him into the ground with a bone-crunching impact.
"Keep moving!" I shouted, taking down another group of guards with a grenade launcher I'd grabbed from a fallen soldier. The explosion sent debris flying, and the remaining guards hesitated, giving us a moment to regroup.
The second wave was larger and better armed. They came at us from all sides, forcing us to split up.
I climbed onto the stage, using the high ground to my advantage. My [Warlord's Domain] skill allowed me to dodge incoming fire, and my upgraded pistol made quick work of the guards below.
John, meanwhile, had grabbed a fallen assault rifle and was mowing down enemies with deadly accuracy. He fought like a man possessed, his rage driving him forward.
"Bella!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.
She looked up, her eyes wide with hope.
The final wave was the toughest. These weren't just guards—they were Syndicate elites, clad in tactical armor and armed to the teeth.
One of them lunged at me with a combat knife, but I sidestepped his attack and countered with a roundhouse kick that sent him sprawling. Another came at me with a shotgun, but I ducked under his shot and fired two rounds into his chest.
John was taking on three elites at once, his movements a blur. One of them managed to land a punch, but John barely flinched. He grabbed the man by the throat and slammed him into a wall, then used his body as a shield to block incoming fire.
"We're running out of time!" I shouted, reloading my weapon.
John nodded, his eyes blazing with determination.
The room was in shambles by the time we reached Bella's cage. The floor was littered with bodies, and the walls were scorched from explosions.
John rushed to Bella's side, breaking the lock with a single shot. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
"I've got you," he whispered, his voice breaking.
"John," she said, tears streaming down her face. "You found me."
She knows who John is!? Could Bella have been reincarnated too? This is definitely different than what I have read in all those novels before! So…many…reincarnation!
"I'll always find you," he said, his tone fierce.
But our mission wasn't over yet. The sound of reinforcements echoed through the halls, and we knew we had to move fast.
"Let's go!" I shouted, leading the way out of the auction house.
We fought our way through the remaining guards, our movements perfectly synchronized. By the time we reached the exit, the Syndicate's forces were in disarray, their operation completely destroyed.
As we drove away, Bella clung to John, her face buried in his chest.
"You did it," she said softly.
"We did it," he replied, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
But as I looked back at the burning auction house, I knew this was just the beginning. The Syndicate wouldn't take this loss lightly, and the war was far from over.
"Ready for the next round?" I asked, a grim smile on my face.
John nodded, his grip tightening on Bella's hand. "Let's end this."
The SUV roared down the darkened industrial streets, its tires screeching as John maneuvered through tight corners and broken alleyways. In the rearview mirror, a convoy of Syndicate vehicles was closing in fast—black SUVs with heavily tinted windows, their headlights cutting through the smoke and fire from the destroyed auction house behind us.
"They're not going to let us walk away that easily," I muttered, reloading my pistol.
"I wasn't expecting a warm goodbye," John said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Bella sat beside him, trembling but holding onto her resolve.
A burst of gunfire shattered the back window, and Bella screamed, ducking instinctively.
"They're getting bold," John growled.
"Keep driving," I said, climbing over the seats to the rear of the SUV. I kicked the shattered window out entirely, giving me a clear shot.
The first of the Syndicate vehicles surged closer, its passenger leaning out of the window with an assault rifle. I took aim and fired three precise shots—one to the driver, one to the tire, and the third to the gunman. The SUV swerved violently and slammed into a lamppost, flipping onto its roof in a shower of sparks.
"Nice shot," John called back, his voice steady despite the chaos.
"Thanks," I said, smirking. "But they've got more where that came from."
The convoy adjusted, two SUVs pulling up on either side of us. The vehicle on the left rammed into us, trying to force us into the rows of abandoned shipping containers lining the street.
"Hold on!" John shouted, yanking the wheel to counter.
The impact nearly sent me tumbling out of the shattered window, but I grabbed onto the frame and held my ground.
"Keep it steady!" I barked, firing at the SUV's driver. My bullet found its mark, and the vehicle careened off course, slamming into the side of a container with a deafening crash.
The SUV on the right wasn't giving up so easily. Its occupants opened fire, bullets ricocheting off our vehicle's reinforced frame.
"I need to get closer," I muttered, holstering my pistol and grabbing onto the roof rack.
"William, don't—" Bella started, but I was already climbing out onto the roof.
Balancing on the speeding SUV was like trying to stand on a bucking bull, but my enhanced reflexes made it possible. I sprinted across the roof, leaping onto the pursuing vehicle with a thud.
The gunman in the passenger seat turned, his eyes widening in shock as I slammed my fist through the window, grabbing him by the collar. I yanked him halfway out of the vehicle, disarming him with a swift twist of his wrist.
The driver swerved, trying to shake me off, but I held firm, climbing onto the hood. With one well-placed shot, I took out the engine block. Smoke and flames erupted as the SUV lost control, skidding to a halt and narrowly avoiding a pile-up with its allies.
I leapt back onto our SUV just in time, rolling into the back seat as John veered sharply into a side alley.
"Show-off," John said, grinning despite himself.
"Just clearing the path," I replied, reloading.
We burst out of the alley and onto a main road, but the Syndicate wasn't done yet. A black helicopter roared into view above us, its spotlight bathing the SUV in harsh white light.
"Helicopter!" Bella yelled, shielding her eyes.
"Of course they have a helicopter," John muttered, slamming on the gas.
The helicopter opened fire, its mounted machine gun tearing up the asphalt around us. John swerved wildly, avoiding the hail of bullets.
"William, do you have a plan for that?" he asked.
"Working on it," I replied, scanning the street ahead.
Then I saw it—a construction crane looming over an unfinished skyscraper.
"Turn left at the next intersection!" I shouted.
"What?!"
"Just do it!"
John complied, taking the turn at breakneck speed. The SUV barreled toward the construction site, the helicopter hot on our tail.
As we neared the crane, I climbed out of the window again, this time grabbing the rocket launcher we'd confiscated from one of the Syndicate guards earlier.
"Keep it steady!" I called, bracing myself against the roof.
The helicopter's spotlight locked onto me, and the gunner began firing. Bullets whizzed past, but I held my ground, aiming carefully.
"Come on," I muttered, lining up the shot.
The rocket launched with a deafening roar, streaking toward the helicopter. The pilot tried to evade, but it was too late. The rocket struck the tail rotor, and the helicopter spun out of control, crashing into the crane in a fiery explosion.
The crane toppled, its massive arm crashing down behind us and blocking the street.
"That should slow them down," I said, sliding back into the SUV.
"You're insane," John said, shaking his head.
"You're welcome," I replied with a grin.
The Syndicate's remaining vehicles were forced to stop at the wreckage, giving us the time we needed to escape.
As we sped away, the city lights fading behind us, I glanced back at Bella. She was still shaken, but there was a spark of hope in her eyes now.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
She nodded, her voice steady. "Thanks to you two."
John reached over, taking her hand in his. "It's not over yet," he said. "But we're getting closer."
I leaned back in my seat, my mind already racing with plans for our next move. The Syndicate wouldn't stop until they'd crushed us, but they'd underestimated us once again.
And that was their biggest mistake.