Despite what I told Hannah, I really loathed to go with the FBI team that had been set up for this particular raid and capture the real mastermind behind all of this.

I wanted to help, truly and genuinely, but the last thing I wanted to do right now was put myself in danger when Hannah and the rest of the family were so vulnerable at home. All I wanted to do was stay by her side, protect her, and watch her knowing she was safe by my side.

I sighed loudly as I got out of the sleek black car that had taken me to the destination of where our informer had told us the new Auction House was being held.

The rules were different this time, I noticed. Before I entered the main area where the girls were being kept, an identity check was given at a small desk. I looked at the fake ID that was given to me by the agency. I gave it to the clerk and watched as she went over it once.

"Welcome, Mister Goodwin." She greeted me tightly and handed something to me from behind the desk.

When I inspected it, I noticed it was a black and gold mask in the shape of a fox design. So this was how they were planning to protect their customers. I scoffed lightly before putting it on.

As I made my way through the dark and dimly lit hallways and various doors, I made sure to take note of not only the route I was being led through but also the security. Guards were positioned at each door we passed through.

Above them, cameras blinked red once every ten seconds indicating to me that it was live and recording. I wondered if guests were given specific masks, or if they all had the same ones. If it was the latter, it would be easier to sneak around without being identified directly.

If it was the former, then things really had taken a turn for the worse. Though, it wouldn’t have surprised me if the Auction House now only included specific and well-off businessmen—the top of the food chain. The men the boss knew were worth their money.

While walking through the corridor before reaching the main area, I turned my head slightly to the side and took note of the two FBI agents who had accompanied me inside under the guise of my bodyguards.

Thank God there hadn’t been any metal detectors at the front door. Though a part of me knew the establishment knew many of the men would only come here if their safety was secured by their standards.

That meant one of two things. Either the men gathered here today were trustworthy enough to not start a fight, or sh*t was going down. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

It seemed the agents at my side had the same idea. Judging by their body stance and the tenseness in their gaze, I knew they were prepared for anything. Steeling my resolve, I turned to face the front and walked through the large open doors.

The moment I entered the large open area where the girls were being auctioned off I felt like throwing up. I wanted to leave as soon as the scent of perfume and cigars hit my nostrils.

There was an open floor where all the bidding men congregated in front of the stage. They sat on large red sofas with women on either one or both sides of them, drinks in one hand and a cigar in the other as they leered at the girls on the stage.

The image of Hannah standing on a stage similar to that one the first time I saw her flashed in my mind. Anger began growing in me. These girls, although I did not know them, had friends and families waiting for them that they may never see again.

Shaking my head from the thoughts that clouded it, I followed one of the attendees down to the floor where they guided me to my reserved spot.

The minute I sat down, I felt something was off.

The girls had stopped coming onto the stage around the fifteen-minute mark of me being there. I wondered for a moment if there was a pause in the auctions. I spared one more look at the agent to my right. When he shook his head lightly at me, I tried to relax.

Something was definitely wrong here.

It was ten minutes later when it was obvious no more girls were beginning to come out that the two men beside me started to get a bit nervous. We had been there for almost half an hour already, and there was no sign of the boss.

Some clients still sat and waited. I noticed the way they all wore the masks of predator animals—tigers, lions, and leopards—while the attending girls and performers to the side wore masks of animals, such as rabbits or mice.

The underlying message almost made me sick.

I got up from my seat, announcing that I had to use the bathroom, and then it all went to hell.

A loud banging sounded out first into the otherwise light murmuring of the room. The next thing I knew was that I was being tackled to the ground. The couch we had previous been sitting on was on its side, shielding us from the rest of the room.

"What’s happening?" I heard myself shouting to the FBI agents at my side. Their guns were drawn quicker than I could process the situation.

"It was a trap!" the one on my left shouted out as he assessed the situation. From the bullet holes in the couch, I clearly saw that many of the so-called customers who had been admiring the girls now had guns in their hands and were pointing them at us.

"How could they have known?" That was my reply, but it went unanswered as they tried to move the couch as we walked.

Bearing most of its weight from the middle, I focused on moving the couch that was shielding our bodies toward the oak counter of the bar. There was a backdoor housed there that I noticed earlier and planned to use as an easy escape route.

The agent to my left grunted in pain. When I turned to notice him, he was clutching his arm in his hand as blood dripped from a bullet wound.

Sh*t.

"Marcus!" I called out to him. He dropped his gun from the shock of the pain that must have been shooting through him then, and I looked on as he stared at me with wide open eyes. He released the grip on his gun in favour of clutching his arm that had been shot.

Despite Marcus holding onto the wound himself, the blood was quickly spilling over his clutched fingers, and I watched in horror as his eyes began to droop lighty.

Calling back to Ed to help us, I rushed forward and grabbed Marcus’ side to haul him in front of me and toward the door.

We were vastly outnumbered and outgunned. Gripping the man around his middle, I helped move him behind the counter, where the other agent had already retreated, and handed him off.

I tried to steady my breathing from where I sat. It was evident enough that the entire situation had been a trap, so staying here would only mean the death of us. The Boss was obviously not here, and so this entire mission was useless.

However I couldn’t help but want to try and get something, get anything, against this organization. It was desperate of me, I knew that—desperate and foolish. And it was a thought that crossed my mind only because I wanted so quickly for this entire situation to be over and done with.

However, reason prevailed, and I decided against the thought of trying to go back and look for evidence—or even take pictures or videos—as another few gunshots rang out. It was a suicide mission. I berated myself for trying to end this incident messily, and moved to leave through the open door.

I noticed Ed had already brought Marcus outside and into the long hallway that I hoped led to the back of the establishment.

When I got up myself, and moved to quickly go toward the exit, my vision blurred slightly as a large pain shot through my entire body.

I wasn’t sure where the pain was coming from, at first, or why I was suddenly feeling it. But, after a quick look down at my stomach, I realized why Marcus and Ed were looking at me with pale faces.

"Roman!" I heard the two of them yell at me.

As I stared down at the source of the pain, I noticed that the bullet had gone all the way through my stomach and out the front. The blood was dripping from there at a rapid pace. Before I knew it, I was on the ground and unconscious.