"Make sure you lock her up," a man said, tossing Ashley into one of the containers and watching another man fasten handcuffs and chains around her. "She’ll be a headache if she gets loose. You saw what this nutcase did earlier."

With that, he glanced down at the unconscious Ashley, scoffed, and walked off, leaving the other man to finish securing her. The man checked every chain and cuff carefully, making sure that even if she woke up, there would be no way out.

The chains clanged as he gave them a few testing yanks before stepping out.

"She locked up tight?" came a question from another man the moment he emerged from the container.

"Hey, newbie, I told you to stop talking to me with that arrogant tone." He hissed. "Unless she amputates herself, she’s not going anywhere."

"Haha. You lot scared of her or something?"

"Don’t talk if you weren’t there," the man who had done the securing clicked his tongue. "Guard this and don’t let anyone near it. Until we reach our destination, don’t drop your guard for a second."

With that, he tossed the key to the man posted outside.

"Lock that container."

"What about the other keys?" the guard asked, then clarified, "The ones for her chains."

"Why would you need those?"

The man scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe she’ll need to use the bathroom or something."

"Do you think she’s a guest?" the other man snorted. "If she needs to go, she can go on herself. We’re told to bring her in alive, not clean. If she causes trouble, shut her up — just don’t touch her face."

With that, he turned and walked off, waving without looking back.

The man left behind snorted, shook his head, and dragged himself over to lock the container before settling in to wait.

What neither of them knew was that their conversation had been heard — not by one person, but two.

One of them was crouched behind a nearby container like a mouse, peering out just long enough to clock the guard slipping on a pair of earbuds and flipping his phone to landscape. Then he pulled back.

Rus.

Rus pressed his back against the container stack closest to where they had stowed Ashley. When he had seen the three men execute the Knights Gang members, he had quietly followed them onto this ship. Years of infiltration experience made getting aboard the easy part.

The real problem was how to get Ashley out.

"Just what the hell happened in those few minutes?" he muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And this place is crawling with men like those three."

He opened his eyes and glanced sideways, catching a sliver of open ocean through the narrow gaps between the stacked containers. The cargo ship was moving faster than he would have guessed. Only minutes had passed, yet the port was already a distant smear of light behind them.

"I hope those three are alright," he breathed, his worry for his colleagues quietly growing.

None of this was what it was supposed to be. The plan had been simple: take Ashley, hand her over at the port. Nowhere in that plan were goons from the Knights Gang — and certainly not a second, unknown force that had boarded the same ship with entirely different orders.

[What about those four?]

One line from an overheard conversation surfaced in his memory. He understood well enough who the four referred to: him, Khan, Warriyo, and Nelek.

"They really planned to kill us after the handoff," he murmured, his expression darkening.

A flood of questions pressed in on him. He shook them off.

"Nelek and Warriyo are capable," he told himself. "They’ll find a way. Right now, I need to focus on myself... and on getting that woman out of that box."

*****

Meanwhile, inside the container, Ashley let out a faint grunt. Her head throbbed as her eyes opened to nothing but solid darkness.

But she could hear voices ‌nearby.

"Why would you need the keys for her?"

"Who knows — maybe she’ll need to use the bathroom or something."

"Do you think she’s a guest? If she needs to go, she can go on herself. We’re told to bring her in alive, not clean. If she causes trouble, shut her up — just don’t touch her face."

Ashley lay still on the cold, dirty floor of the container, eyes turned toward the door where the voices filtered through.

"Hah..." A quiet breath escaped her. She didn’t move. She let her eyes fall shut again.

When she reopened them, it was still dark. She waited, scanning the faint pinpricks of light coming through tiny holes scattered across the walls, until her vision slowly adjusted. Then, gathering what strength she had, she pushed herself upright.

Her chains gave a soft clang with each movement, not enough for the guard outside to catch through his earbuds.

Once sitting, she reached toward her head and felt something sticky against her skin. She lowered her hand, barely making out the chains attached to her wrists, and stared at her palm as her vision adjusted further.

Blood.

Her hands trembled slightly. Her breath suspended. Her chest pulled tight. Her head felt like it was spinning — not from any blow, but from something else entirely. Something that had caught up with her.

"How..." she trailed off, realizing she already knew the answer.

How had she ended up here?

She had dropped her guard for a single second.

Or rather, she had underestimated them.

Earlier, while fighting the Knights Gang, she had caught a glint at the edge of her vision. When she turned, she saw a figure in full tactical gear crouched behind a container, a strange-looking rifle aimed directly at her.

She had tried to dodge in time. She almost had, but it grazed her side. The effect was immediate: a wave of dizziness, sharp and disorienting, though not quite enough to knock her out. She had played dead at first, buying herself a moment, but the compound was potent, and she had felt her consciousness slipping.

She had barely held on.

"It’s just a graze," she whispered, drawing a slow breath. "But my head feels like it’s splitting open."

She leaned her back against the metal wall, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. She focused on her breathing, steady and deliberate, working to shut down every emotion feeding the tightness in her chest.

She ran through everything that had led to this. The thing that had grazed her — it was still lodged in her clothing. That was why these men had assumed she was fully tranquilized.

Ashley tried to feel the medical-grade bullet, pulling it and keeping it to her side.

"..." A long exhale escaped her as she opened her eyes and stared into the dark. "Well... getting taken was actually part of the plan. I needed a ride to wherever they’re bringing me."

She looked toward the door.

"Just... not like this."

She sat quietly, focused on reclaiming her strength and metabolizing whatever was still in her system. When the severity of her headache told her she had recovered enough, she threw herself sideways — chains crashing against the container floor in one deliberate, resounding clang.

CLANG!