I stand across the street from an old warehouse deep in the north part of the city. It’s a big brick thing with graffiti all over the front, but the windows and the doors are all intact, which is strange for this neighborhood. This is the part of the city that time forgot, and although everywhere else has moved on into the twenty-first century, this place is still stuck in the industrial revolution. This factory, in particular, probably used to make candlesticks or some shit like that, although it’s used for a much different purpose now.

I glance at my watch and note that it’s almost time. I’ve been watching the building for an hour at least, and I haven’t seen any activity anywhere around it, which is good and bad. It means that the guys inside are serious and careful, but it also means that they likely have few weaknesses for me to exploit.

Can’t worry about that just yet, though. I can feel the reassuring weight of my gun slipped into the back of my jeans, but if it comes down to a firefight, I likely won’t get out of this place alive.

It won’t come to that. This isn’t some brute force job, anyway. This is going to take a lot more than that. Frankly, it’s the hardest job I’ve ever been assigned, but the money reflects that.

I’ll be set up for a long, long time if I can pull this off.

I let out a soft breath. I know I can pull this off. I’ve done worse, much worse, back when I was a Navy SEAL. I’ve gone through some shit in my time, some real fucking nailbiters, and I made it out the other side. Compared to some of that shit, this is going to be simple.

I stand and head off toward the building. My contacts told me to knock on the blue door in the back, and so I make my way around the building. There’s no sign of life anywhere, which almost disturbs me, but I push that from my mind. I turn the corner and spot the blue door set back up a short stoop.

I climb the three steps then knock. I wait a minute before knocking again.

Silence for what feels like forever. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been set up or if my contacts somehow fucked me. This is the problem with going undercover. You never know who you can fucking trust. It’s even worse when you work for a private security firm like I do, since there’s no fucking oversight. My superiors can do whatever the fuck they want and they act like they’re above the law.

When the door suddenly unlatches and opens, none of that matters. A tall, bald man looks out at me with a scowl on his face. He’s wearing dark clothes and clearly packing heat, and I know it’s game time.

“You the guy?” he asks.

“Logan,” I say. “Here to see Anton.”

He grunts and steps aside. I walk through the door and stop as he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“No guns,” he says.

I pause then nod. “Back waistband.”

He lifts up my shirt and gingerly takes my revolver. He slips it into his own waistband then pats me down. He finds a single knife, which he doesn’t take, and then gives me a nod.

“Follow,” he says.

He leads me down a dark passage. I can hear noises coming from deeper in the factory, but I try not to think about what they mean. He makes a few turns, which I note mentally, before we end up in a large room with a two-way mirror along one side.

It’s clearly not original. This place has been rebuilt and relatively recently. There’s a table in the center of the room with several men sitting around it, playing cards. Further in, there’s another door leading out of the room.

One of the men at the table stands, smiling broadly. I recognize him right away from the briefing dossier I was given just the night before.

His name is Anton Volkov and he’s a real piece of shit.

“You must be Logan,” he says, walking over. “I hope Nicky here was gentle with you.”

We shake hands and I grin at him. “I’ve had worse pat-downs at the fucking airport.”

Anton laughs. “Good, good. Come, meet the others. We’re excited to get started.”

“I am too.”

Anton leads me over to the table where I shake hands with some of the most despicable men in this city. I recognize a few of their names, though one or two of them are new to me.

They’re all members of the Russian mafia at some level. They’re all killers, rapists, and thieves, the sort of men that my security firm both kills and works with. It’s a dirty, unfortunate situation, but we need them for their information, and they need us when they go to war with each other. For the most part, we have an understanding.

I’m going against that understanding. Sometimes, when the money is right, unwritten rules can be ignored. I have the blessing of my superiors, though they’ll deny all knowledge of what I’m doing if I get caught. That won’t stop them from taking their twenty percent if I pull it off.

After the introductions, Anton pulls me aside. I have to restrain myself for a second. He’s shorter than me and fatter, with a solid beer gut and a thin-looking beard. When he talks, spit flies from his mouth, which disgusts me. I want to pummel him for being such a horrible monster, but I have to hold back.

Anton is as bad as any of the other guys at the table, but he has a special place in my heart. Anton is a killer, thief, and a murderer, but he does one thing that sets him apart.

He’s a sex trafficker. More specifically, he specializes in finding young, foolish American girls and turning them into sex slaves for the Russian mafia.

Nothing disgusts me more than him. I hate his profession, everything about it. I wish I could kill him right here and now.

Instead, I have to pretend to be just like him.

“Listen Logan,” he says to me, standing too close. “We have a little surprise for you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What kind of surprise?”

“Well, well, you know how it is, Logan. We can’t be too careful in this business, right?”

“Sure,” I grunt. “But I don’t like surprises.”

“It’s not a bad surprise, trust me.” He gives me a stupid, evil grin. “You come highly recommended, you know that?”

“I’m good at my job,” I grunt at him.

“I bet, I bet. My bosses, they sang your praise.” He eyes me for a second. “But I’m not so trusting these days. So we have a little test for you.”

I stare at him, not sure where he’s going with this. From what I was told, my cover story was going to get me into this group of men without a problem. My superiors called in some favors with the Russians and they agreed to let me infiltrate this little sex trafficking ring in exchange for future favors. They don’t know what I’m doing here and they frankly don’t want to know. They promised they’d smooth my entrance over, and everything else is up to me.

There was no mention of any fucking test.

“I don’t like tests,” I say to Anton. “If I’m not wanted here, I won’t fucking be here.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he says. “Just listen. You’re going to like it.” Anton steps away from me and looks over at the guys sitting at the table.

“Boys,” he calls out. “Who’s ready for a fucking lineup?”

The guys all stop what they’re doing and cheer. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach as Anton grins at me then motions at Nicky.

The lights shut off suddenly. It’s very dark in the room and the guys all laugh, making spooky sounds. Suddenly, a light comes on, illuminating the room on the other side of the two-way mirror.

I stand there, transfixed and horrified. Lined up on the other side of the mirror are about ten girls ranging in ages from fifteen all the way up to maybe thirty. Some of them are beautiful, some of them are ugly, and all of them looked sleep deprived and miserable.

They’re wearing lingerie, though it looks dirty and used. Some of them look like they’ve been beaten and hurt, which makes my fucking blood boil with rage.

I have to control myself. Anton is staring at me though the other men are watching the girls and cheering. The girls, meanwhile, stare straight ahead blankly, clearly not able to see or hear us.

They’re the fucking slaves Anton has in his stable. I take a step toward them, trying to get a better look and working to keep myself under control. I can’t afford to slip up here and reveal any of my anger, or else Anton will see through me.

I’m supposed to be a trainer. Or at least that’s what the Russians told Anton. I’m supposed to be one of the best slave trainers from New York City, coming down on loan from the Russian mob there. Anton apparently just lost a guy to the recent turf wars, and he needs me to fill in that position.

“What do you think?” Anton asks me softly. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

I stare at the girls, and I wish I had my gun. I’d mow down these bastards and free the girls.

But that’s not my goal and I know it. I have to keep myself under control.

“Beautiful,” I say. “But what’s the test?”

“Pick one,” Anton says. “Pick one, break her, train her. Make her a perfect little slave. And then I’ll accept you.”

I stare at the girls, horrified, but I knew this was a possibility.

I take a deep breath and nod. I walk down the line of girls, inspecting them, looking closely. When I get to the seventh girl, I stop and stare at her, my pulse jumping in my chest.

She’s gorgeous, absolutely stunning. She’s in her early twenties and looks like she was abused the least out of every girl in the lineup. Her eyes are wide and deep green and her hair is a thick auburn color. She has a perfect figure that practically spills out of the skimpy, tiny lingerie they shoved her in.

I stare at her for a second before nodding at her. “This one,” I say.

“Perfect,” Anton answers, laughing. The men all cheer then stand up and begin making their own choices. “You made a great choice, Logan, my friend,” Anton says. “That one is particularly stubborn.”

“What now?” I ask him.

“Now you meet her. Then you both travel to our compound in Mexico for the real work.”

I nod and glance back at the girl. I expected the trip to Mexico, since I knew that’s where they do most of their serious training work. But I didn’t think I’d be going so soon.

It doesn’t matter. I stare at the girl, my eyes hard, and I wonder what she’s thinking.

Riley Nosek. Daughter of the filthy rich furniture magnate, Rufus Nosek. Anton clearly doesn’t know what he has here, or else she’d be squirreled away somewhere very, very safe.

Instead, Rufus hired my firm to take care of this. More specifically, he requested their best man for the job, and apparently I’m the right fit.

The poor fucking girl. But I’m here now, and I’m going to save her. I still have a role to play, and it might get rough for her. But I’m going to make sure she gets through this.

And I’m going to make sure the rest of these sick bastards pay.