Chapter 33

Danielle

I’m angry, and, to be honest, I’m a little heartbroken—which only makes me angrier. It feels like a never-ending cycle.

I thought I could open up to Janus and be completely honest. In my line of work, that’s rare—extremely rare. Turns out I was wrong and, luckily, dodged a bullet.

Anyone with any observational skill at all would’ve been able to tell that I was falling for the man.

Clearly, he’s not as good as he—and I, evidently—believes.

I think of his face, twisted with hurt and suspicion, and the way he couldn’t look at me in the eye. I feel a twinge of sadness that I didn’t tell him my feelings sooner.

I think of him refusing to sit down next to me—refusing to be touched, as if I was something toxic or some kind of monster.

My sadness twists to anger.

Fuck Janus.

I can do this without him. I’m not some damsel in distress or some incompetent amateur. I continued in Sudan without him, and I can continue here.

I need to do some research.

I open the offending email that caused all the unnecessary drama. I email all of Dave’s contacts, playing up my naivety a little so that they will trust me and feel worried for me—whatever gets the information out of them. I know that infiltrating a human-trafficking ring will the dangerous, and I need all the Intel I can get.

Next, I lay out my infiltration outfit on the bed. I’m going for a rich buyer.

I remember Janus giving me all these clothes—explaining why each item was the perfect one for each situation we were going into—the flirty way he would brush his hand against mine as he handed me each garment, and the silly British words he used for everything: ‘blouse’ for ‘shirt’ and ‘trousers’ for ‘pants’.

No. No Janus.

He’s a distraction I cannot afford right now. I have to rescue those girls, not sulk over some guy.

I think about all those women and children, looking scared and vacant, standing around in their own filth and blood. I think of the heartless guards, lazily watching over them as if they were cattle.

My blood is boiling.

I need to channel that anger and use it.

I make a list of everything I’ll need and start to formulate a proper plan. It doesn’t even take long. I’ll say this for Janus, he’s a good teacher.

But I was looking forward to learning more from him and not just about clandestine skill set.

I’ll rescue these girls, get out of here, write this story, and then, to celebrate, I’ll go to a bar and find someone else to keep me warm for a few nights. Someone with fewer feelings.

I go over my plan again.

It’s watertight. As long as nothing goes wrong, that is.

But there are a few supplies I need first. I have to get onto Mahdi.

Luckily, Janus gave me Mahdi’s number days ago in case anything goes wrong—and while we were in bed at that.

It was one of those beautiful, sweet little moments you enjoy while in the middle of the heat of everything. The sun was pouring through the windows, the world was turning without us, and he was so soft, gentle, and concerned.

“I’m in this with you, but if anything happens to me or anything at all goes wrong, you take this number, and you call Mahdi, okay? Promise me you won’t go all rogue and independent,” he said with such affection.

That moment would have been a good time to come clean about my feelings, but hindsight and all that.

I’ve got this covered, though. I’ve always got it covered.

Mahdi’s voice over the phone is kind and concerned.

The wind is starting to pick up more, and I shut the balcony doors before it completely drowns out Mahdi’s voice.

“Habibi, I heard you and Janus parted ways. I’m endlessly sorry to hear it. But perhaps, it is time for you to go back to America for a while until things become a little less dangerous?”

Not you too, Mahdi! Like hell I’ll go back to America.

I’m sorting through my things, packing a bag with everything I need to rescue the girls. I just need these last few supplies from him, and hopefully, some more bodies on the ground.

“I appreciate your concern, Mahdi, but that isn’t really an option. These girls are in real lethal danger. They need help.”

“And you will be in real lethal danger too if you put yourself in their situation. I have men on the ground monitoring the ring. This is ugly business for everyone. We all want to stop it. We’ll intervene where we can. You should go home. I can keep you posted on your story.”

Clearly, this guy doesn’t know the first thing about me. I’m going to rescue those girls, lethal danger or not.

“Mahdi. I hear you. You’re sweet, but I’m not some delicate flower. Look up my resume. I think I can handle some traffickers.”

“This isn’t about your prowess, my dear. Tartarus is no joke. I say this with all the love and respect in the world. I’m the best there is at what I do, and I will not go near them without careful planning and many, many men.”

“Well, we’re very different people, aren’t we? Mahdi, I’ve heard your concern, and I’ve noted it. I won’t go rushing in blind, but I will go walking in armed and ready tomorrow, as soon as you can sell me some supplies. Now, do you want to hear the list of things I need?” I say, placing my taser and handgun next to each other with one hand as the other picks through some of the fake IDs Janus forgot to take in his angry rush.

Mahdi sighs and makes out a low, worried noise.

“Okay, que sera, sera. You’re just as mad as you are beautiful and intelligent. Tell me what you need.”

I run through my mental checklist and begin to list items: small recording devices, top-up canisters for my mace, and remote listening technology.

We agree on a meeting point. After some pushing, I convince Mahdi to accede to first thing in the morning.

I can feel a familiar surge of adrenaline running through my body now.

God, I love this feeling. Taking the situation into my own hands, setting a limit and pushing past it…I wouldn’t give this up for anything.

Even Janus.

The regret twinges, but it is tempered with determination now.

Outside, the storm is wild and apocalyptic. If I was a superstitious woman, I’d see this as a bad omen.

But I control my own fate.