According to Jonas, there were only two other guards on duty right now, so after closing the door to the dungeon, they made their way down the hall that led to the aft of the yacht.

Gray felt naked, wanting to keep his gun aimed in case they ran into a guard. But Darius reminded him they were more likely to cause destruction if they waved their guns around for no reason. And to the guards and the others on the boat, it was still “no reason.” For all they knew, Darius was Gray’s owner and everything was peachy.

Darius’s line of thinking gave Jonas an idea.

“Stay back when we get to our quarters,” he murmured as they passed the central den. Gray studiously faced forward. He didn’t want to see the space where he’d lost his freedom for money. And he’d been one of the lucky ones… Jesus Christ, stay focused. He tuned in to what Jonas was saying. “…won’t bat an eye if I tell them Ms. Valerie wants to see them.”

Darius acknowledged him with a nod and stopped as they reached a staircase. He peered up and down the stairs, then gestured for them to follow him up. Gray grew antsier and antsier, and he glanced over his shoulder. The boy clinging to Jonas was about to cry again—shit. Gray stumbled, having walked straight into Darius.

“Just the man I was looking for,” Darius said, and a beat later, a guard appeared around the corner.

Holy shit, Gray’s heart was pounding.

“What can I do for you, sir?” The guard acted completely normal, though he took on a mildly curious expression at the sight of Jonas and the other guy. Gray and the blood he was covered in, however, got a smirk and a once-over.

Die.

“Right here—I have a problem.” Darius coaxed the guard down a few steps on the stairs so they were out of sight. And before Gray could even blink, Darius had his tie around the guard’s neck, and he was choking the fucker out.

Gray jumped into action instinctively and covered the mouth and nose of the guard. If it didn’t speed things up, at least it would muffle any noises. Darius clearly didn’t need any help handling the man’s violent thrashing. He stood rock solid, even as the guard tried to kick himself free.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Jonas had to comfort the other guy. “Just follow my lead, all right? We’re going home, Rob.”

“You can’t use that name,” the guy—Rob—whispered in panic. “We don’t have names.”

Gray cursed at what he’d overheard, and anger took over for a moment when he slammed his elbow against the guard’s temple. And it fucking worked. The last strength to struggle ran out of him like water, and Darius snorted in amusement.

“All right, cover for me,” he murmured. “We need to hide him.”

Gray went ahead to make sure the coast was clear, and he nodded as all he saw was an empty hall—in both directions. Then he jerked back a step and went a little wide-eyed. Darius wasn’t fucking around, was he? He grunted and hauled the guard over his shoulder. If he thought the body was unbearably heavy, it didn’t show.

In a supply closet across the hall, Gray helped him dispose of the guard, and Darius earned himself another gun.

He tucked it into his pants at the base of his spine. “Okay, that’s four guards down. One more to go who’s working right now. Be on the lookout, boys.”

Boys… Gray let Jonas and Rob go before him this time so he could cover their backs. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to be Darius’s equal for this. The others could be the “boys,” and Gray would just be Gray. Even though he was the same age as them.

The path to the staff’s quarters was short and uneventful, only serving to build more tension in Gray’s body. He never stopped looking over his shoulder; he just waited for shit to hit the fan.

Gray and Darius stayed in the background as Jonas opened the door to their room. He spoke in the monotone voice Gray recognized from when Jonas had brought Darius sunscreen.

“Ms. Valerie” wanted to see everyone right away outside the pilothouse, and it was as painful as it was comical how quickly the guys got ready. The small cabin had bunk beds taking up each wall, and it took the five guys less than a minute to put on new underwear and smooth down their hair. No room for modesty or privacy when they didn’t even have their freedom. Yet.

“Where’s Owen?” Jonas asked.

“Pool deck, I think,” another one answered.

Gray exchanged a look with Darius. They’d have to go up there and find the boy.

Maybe the guys had been pushed down and abused to the point where they’d stopped being curious, maybe they’d been instructed never to question anything…maybe a combination of both. Either way, they didn’t look remotely interested in knowing why Darius and Gray were out in the hallway, and other than offering Darius a slightly more polite expression, nothing gave away their thoughts. Jonas and Darius took the lead, and Gray stayed back once again.

This time, Gray didn’t care about pretenses. He had a firm grip on the gun sticking out of his pocket, and he was ready to use it.

The peace and quiet was starting to seriously bother him. Granted, he knew several people were recuperating from being sick all morning, but this was crazy. It seemed the entire deck was empty.

“Hey,” Gray whispered. At anyone, he reckoned. “Do you know if there’s anything going on by the pool?”

There was only silence until Jonas gave them an expectant look and murmured, “It’s okay. You can speak to him.”

That caused more confusion between the boys than anything else. Christ, Darius was right. How on earth would anyone go back to any semblance of normal after something like this?

“Um, Owen’s probably serving,” one boy replied quietly. “Nikolaj and I helped Federico make soup for those who’ve been sick. I don’t know if there’s anything else.”

Okay. Okay. That made sense. Gray released a breath and glanced over his shoulder. They were almost at the front of the yacht again, and now he only hoped none of the doors they’d passed opened just yet.

“What is going on?” one boy asked under his breath. The first one to show any curiosity.

“I’ll tell you soon,” Jonas whispered back.

“Hey, where do you boys think—sir? What’s going on here?”

Gray’s heart jumped up into his throat at the sound of the man’s voice behind him, and he instinctively drew the Glock as he spun around. Shit, shit, shit. This wasn’t the close-range Darius had told him about. The guard was at least forty feet away, and Gray wasn’t sure he could aim that well.

“Whoa, what the—” The guard pushed open his suit jacket, revealing a holster, and Gray didn’t think.

He fired. With his fucking eyes closed. Amidst a burst of shock from the staff guys, from shrieks to cries, the sharp sound from the gunshot caused Gray to stumble back and flinch. His ears popped and started ringing loudly, and he ducked as someone pushed past him.

Another shot was fired. Gray sucked in a breath and forced his eyes to open, and it was Darius—of fucking course—who stood next to him with his gun raised. Way down the hall, the guard had dropped to the ground, and blood was pooling around his head, turning the beige carpet red.

Holy fuck.

“Everyone on the boat heard that. Let’s go.” Darius grabbed Gray’s arm and shoved him forward. “You okay?”

Gray jerked a nod, his ears still ringing. He hadn’t expected it to be so loud, nor had he anticipated the force traveling up his arm from firing a gun. “I fucked up,” he said, and he hated himself for it. So far, he hadn’t been of any use at all. “I’ll do better.” He locked and unlocked his jaw to release the pressure in his ears.

“I don’t see how that could’ve ended any differently.” Darius gave Gray’s neck a quick squeeze, then let go to usher forward two staff boys who were close to hysterics. “We’re almost there, but we gotta hurry.”

He was right. The jig was up, and there would be no more sneaking around now that the first shot had been fired. Jonas could comfort his friends later; right now, they had to get to the pilothouse. So Gray helped Darius move the boys toward the end of the hallway, all while looking behind him even more often.

Darius stopped short right before the corner and cursed. Was someone coming? There was another set of stairs, Gray knew. The bridge was up there. Before he could ask, Darius pushed away from the wall, raised his gun, and rounded the corner. It was instantly followed by two shots and two thumps.

Gray strained to hear past the chaos and thought he heard tumbling, as if someone was falling down the stairs.

“Okay, let’s go.” Darius had lost the last shred of patience in his voice, and he crossed the hall, ushered everyone up the last set of stairs, and punched in the code to enter the pilothouse. Once the door was open, he gave the area a quick scan. “Get in, boys. Jonas, you’re in charge.” He stepped aside so everyone could get inside, and he held out an extra gun to Jonas. “You only give this to someone you can count on.” Next, he nodded at Gray. “Knucklehead, give him the wire.”

So much for needing to have his knuckles taped. It hadn’t helped much on the bull either.

Gray retrieved it from his pocket and handed it over to Jonas. Being in the middle of the hallway gave him a full view of two bodies in the stairwell.

In the meantime, Darius extended his tie too, as well as a knife. “We’ll be back soon, and only open that door if you hear a double-tap knocking. We clear?”

Jonas nodded jerkily, nervous but ready to fight for his life. It was a look Gray would forever recognize after this.

If they survived.

* * *

Gray had no recollection of the bottom deck of the yacht. It was narrower and more cramped, but no less upscale. The guards had two cabins, one down here, which turned out to be empty. Gray and Darius had picked up speed and were running down the hall, up the stairs, and kept running until Gray was shoved back.

“Quiet.” Darius took a breath and put himself between Gray and the corner, where they heard voices.

“It’s hard when we don’t know who to look for,” someone said with a sneer in his tone. There was an accent too—vaguely Latin American. “I never trusted that piece of shit from Texas, though. He’s been hanging around the kitchen. Were you there when his luggage went through inspection? He brought enough equipment to kill all the slaves four times over.”

Oh God. Gray pressed himself to the wall and forced himself to breathe steadily. The Texan, or Mr. K, was Milo’s buyer. Nothing slashed through Gray as painfully as knowing that sweet kid had ended up with one of the worst men on board. Gray could still hear Milo’s sobbing pleas and see how he shook in terror.

“I don’t think so,” another man replied. “At drinks the other day…he bragged too much about how cruel he is. The most vicious son of a bitch won’t say a word. I bet it’s the one in Twelve. Mr. B.”

Gray raised a brow at Darius, who didn’t move a single muscle. He was too focused—

“Guys!” That was someone else, someone farther away. “Valerie needs help!”

Once again, Gray turned to Darius, but there was nothing. Not until the sounds from the two men were fading, their feet rapidly running up the stairs. Then Darius jerked his chin in the same direction, and they followed.

“Where are we going?” Gray asked, out of breath. “We should be hiding Vanya somewhere else.”

“No time. Up here.” Darius took aim as they headed up another level, and Gray realized they were heading for the staterooms where Cole, Oscar, and Lee were.

At least it should be easy to rescue them. Their owners were already dead. Milo and Charlie were another matter. They were below them, a bit closer to the center of the yacht, if Gray had counted the numbered doors right.

Darius stopped outside Cole’s cabin. “Listen to me carefully now.” He leveled Gray with a grim look. “Unless the boys are restrained in a way that you need my help, I’m gonna leave this to you. I have to go get Charlie and Milo downstairs because their buyers should be feeling better now. The last thing we want is for them to give more resistance.”

“I understand.” Gray nodded quickly.

Darius pointed his gun at the lock on the door. “Once you’re alone, you’ll only have a minute or so. They’ll hear the gunfire.”

It was okay. Gray had gotten his shit together, and his mind started racing to think of complications. He’d free Cole first and— “I need an extra gun. Cole will help out.”

“Unless he’s too injured.” Darius wasted no time and fired at the lock, causing the door to rattle. Then he rammed his shoulder against the door, without much happening. “Fuck.” He glared and took aim at the hinges instead. Gray plugged his ears and flinched at the piercing sounds, but it was worth it. The door flew open, and Gray darted inside to find Cole naked, restrained, and gagged on the bed.

Darius surveyed the room, handed an extra gun over to Gray, and said he’d get the other door.

Gray didn’t waste any time. He shoved the glimpses he got of torture devices on the desk out of his mind and hurried over to the bed. Cole’s wide eyes full of frenzy, unshed tears, and hope became etched into Gray’s goddamn retinas.

He spoke with his voice thick from a sudden onslaught of emotion. “Sorry it took so long. We’re improvising a bit.” He folded Cole’s hand forward as much as he could and directed the gun at the shackle. Cole jumped at the gunfire, and Gray got one hand free.

On the other side of the bed, he did the same, aiming at the chain by the lock mechanism.

There was a sharp rap on the doorframe; it was Darius. “You’re on your own. Lee and Oscar will be fine. Meet me by the stairs on this floor when you’re done.”

“We’ll hurry.” Gray refocused on Cole, who was tearing off the ball gag strapped around his head.

“Fuck…” Cole heaved a breath and pulled his hands to him. “I thought the whole thing was off.”

Gray shook his head and glanced around quickly for something Cole could wear. “Are you okay to fight if it comes to—”

“For my fucking life, man.” Cole grunted and got rid of the spreader bar between his ankles.

“It’s loaded. Just pull the trigger if you see someone.” Gray put the second gun on the mattress for Cole and picked up a pair of discarded boxer briefs off the floor. “I’ll go help Lee and Oscar.”

Entering the next room, he encountered both the others in the process of untying the rope that’d restrained them together. Darius must’ve freed their hands before taking off. Lee was worse off than Oscar, though neither had been spared abuse. Gray worried about the noticeable limp that Lee—shit. Gray ducked automatically at the sound of gunfire; he’d never fucking get used to it. Three rapid shots. It better be Darius who was freeing Charlie and Milo. There was a wife or something to kill too, wasn’t there? Another double shot.

How many owners were still—

“What’s happening?” Oscar asked shakily. “That guy—your owner. He told us to listen to you.”

“We’re taking back our freedom.” Gray helped rid them of the rope and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Sweat and blood were smeared all over him, and he had to look like a complete psycho. “Stay behind Cole and me, okay? We’ll explain everything.”

Soon it was the four of them out in the hallway, with Gray taking the lead and Cole covering their backs, and they moved hurriedly toward the stairs. Darius was on his way too; Gray spotted him coming up the stairs with Milo thrown over his shoulder and Charlie limping and clinging to Darius’s free arm.

Gray told the others to stay put, then ran toward Darius to help out.

“Are we really going home?” Charlie croaked. The frenzy in his stricken gaze was getting too fucking familiar for Gray, who merely nodded and let the guy lean on him instead.

“G-Gray?” The hoarse whisper came from Milo. “Is that you? I’m s-scared.”

“I’m here, Milo. You’re safe now.” Gray wasn’t sure the boy had heard him. As they headed closer to the stairs, he walked slightly behind Darius, and he carefully pushed some hair away from Milo’s face. His eyes remained swollen shut, and the dried blood around his ears spoke of repeated abuse with a vicious purpose.

Milo whimpered at the light touch, and Gray removed his hand, unsure. He didn’t know just how traumatized Milo had been, but he guessed a whole fucking lot.

Upon reaching the stairs, Darius told everyone they were going to the pilothouse. Cole insisted on helping him and Gray, and Darius didn’t say no. They did need the assistance, because at this point it was a round of hide-and-seek. Red and the few guards who were left could be anywhere, and then there was the matter of Vanya.

A gunshot rang out somewhere above them, causing Charlie and Milo to cry out, and Darius cursed. As if this wasn’t bad enough, the gunfire was followed by someone screaming, “I’m going to fucking murder you!” and Gray would know that voice anywhere. Vanya had been freed.

“Darius,” Gray whispered urgently.

“I’m thinking,” he snapped under his breath. “All right. Counting high, can’t be more than five guards left, including remaining crew. Only one guest left aside from me—Milo’s owner.”

“Red and Vanya,” Gray added quietly.

Darius nodded with a dip of his chin and lowered Milo to the floor. “Boys, I need you to help him. Stay behind us.” He was looking at Lee and Oscar. “Cole, Gray, I need you both ready. Chances are they’re trying to get into the bridge, and if we lose that area, they can contact the mainland.” He paused, eyeing Cole. “You ever fire a gun before, son?”

Cole nodded. “Yes, sir. Grew up on a ranch.”

“Then don’t point it at your feet. Let’s go.”

Gray’s mouth twitched, and he took in Cole’s chagrined scowl with a pinch of amusement. It was about as much fun as they had time for, and shortly after, they were moving again. Swiftly and silently up the stairs, three guns took the lead with Darius’s in the middle, and Lee, Oscar, and Charlie followed with Milo.

The closer they got to the front of the yacht, the more commotion they heard.

“Just shoot the damn lock!” It was Vanya again.

“Won’t help much when they’ve blocked the door, sir,” someone else bit out. “It’s already unlocked.”

Go, Jonas, Gray thought. But whatever they had blocked the door with wouldn’t hold forever. Not with how the guard kept ramming into it, each thump growing louder.

Gray threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure they had no one following them, and he almost missed Darius’s signal. Gray frowned. Darius was insistent; he repeated the signal for two targets, then looked at Gray’s gun with a shake of his head. The stubborn bastard was going to handle this on his own because he still didn’t want Vanya dead.

Gray trusted Darius, though, and when they were close enough, he did nothing. He watched Darius take down the guard with a quick bullet before he grabbed Vanya by his throat and smashed him up against the wall.

“Where’s your mother, boy?” Darius growled.

Vanya choked and spluttered, clawing fruitlessly at Darius’s hands and arms.

There was a faint sound behind them, and—

“Gray!” Charlie cried.

“Release my son, Mr. B.”

Gray went rigid at Red’s voice. The gun in his hand trembled. Holy fuck, had they been ambushed? The hall had been clear! Unless—fuck. Gray turned slowly, and his face drained of color. Red wasn’t alone. She and another two guards stood there, and they had guns pointed at Charlie, Milo, and Lee.

Red forced Charlie down on his knees and bumped the end of her gun against his head.

A door a few feet away was open. Maybe it was another cabin; either way, they’d probably come from there. Gray had fucking missed it.

“You can’t win this one, Valerie,” Darius said grimly. “We’ve already taken care of everyone else.”

Red barked out a loud laugh. “If only you knew how wrong you are.” A sickening smile played on her lips as her gaze traveled between the boys. It landed on Gray. “When your precious savior is dead, I’m going to sell your fucking body parts.”

Gray lifted his gun and tried not to let his hand wobble. So much could go wrong here, and fear spiked like it never had before. He did his best not to show the terror, but he wasn’t sure he managed. Red didn’t look afraid with a gun aimed at her.

“Gray?” Milo sniffled. He was trying to open his eyes without any success. “What’s going on?”

“Put your gun down, Valerie,” Darius ordered. “If you—”

“Do you think I’m playing a game?” Red shrieked. A second later, her gun was directed at Milo, and a loud shot exploded in the hallway.

Gray’s eyes widened in horror, and it was as if the whole world slowed down. He registered every fraction of a second. Milo’s expression, frozen in fright and confusion. His body sagging forward until he landed face first with a muted thud. Blood gushing out of the wound at the back of his skull.

Dead.

Dead.

She killed him.

Tears and rage flooded Gray’s eyes, and he refocused on Red. He pulled the trigger once. Twice. Three, four, five fucking times. He shot her over and over, and he cursed, and he screamed, and he flew into her so they tumbled to the floor. More shots rang out. Chaos erupted. Gray didn’t give a fuck. He only saw this ugly fucking creature, and he kept emptying his gun. He shot her in the stomach, in the shoulder, in the neck, several times in her face. Click, click, click. His hand trembled, his vision was too blurry, his chest heaved. Gun empty. He punched her instead. He smashed his fists into her bloody mess of a head, he lifted it and crushed it against the carpet, and he screamed out the pain.

Fuck, he couldn’t breathe. The hurt was eating him alive. She’d killed him… Milo was gone. That sweet fucking kid, dead for nothing. Dead because of these sick monsters.

He was just a kid.

The pain spread in sharp pulses and became one with his rapid heartbeat. It was the only thing Gray heard. He heard the agony, was consumed by it, and he barely registered that someone was pulling him away.

“He was just a kid…” The strangled sob that escaped his throat didn’t sound like him.

Gray, Gray, Gray, knucklehead. “Gray.” A growl pierced through the thick fog. “Snap the fuck out of it. I need you.”

Gray buried his face in his hands, unable to stop crying, unable to stop the murderous hatred, unable to stop his chest from cracking wide open. Snap out of it. Darius needs you. He needs you. Gray tried. He fucking tried, but the grief was crippling. If only one innocent guy had been able to walk away from this, he would’ve wanted it to be Milo.

“Knucklehead, listen to me. It’s not over yet. We have to secure the boat.”

Secure the…fuck, because there were others. Another surge of wrath took hold of Gray, but this time, it pushed him forward. He shoved at the arms that had him in a protective cage, and he flew up from the floor to survey the hallway. Blood…fucking everywhere. Two guards down—dead. Vanya—dead. Cole was kneeling over Milo’s body, crying silently and wiping blood from the boy’s face.

Lee and Oscar were trying to comfort Charlie.

“Come here.” Darius filled Gray’s field of vision and had a tie in his hands. Hadn’t he given that to Jonas…? “Can you focus?”

Gray nodded dumbly and side-eyed the dead guards. And Red was…unrecognizable. Wait. One of the guards no longer had a tie around his neck, and then Darius was down on one knee before Gray, tying the black silk around his thigh.

Gray hissed at a sudden burst of fiery pain. “What’re you doing?” he rasped.

“You caught a stray bullet when you dove.”

Oh. “It doesn’t feel that bad.”

“It will.” Darius finished the temporary solution—to limit the bleeding, Gray realized. “We’ll get the bullet out and dress it later. Right now, we have company. Think you can suck it up?”

“Dick,” Gray whispered under his breath. “Yeah, I’m with you. What company?”

Darius rose from the floor and sent the ceiling a glance. “Helicopter.”

Gray wiped the tears from his face and tried to hear anything, but his ears wouldn’t have it. There was an underlying ringing sound and the wash of the ocean; that was it.

Darius turned to Cole. “You up for it, kid?”

Before Cole could answer, two gunshots blasted through the air outside. Darius narrowed his eyes at the ceiling, and Gray’s heart jumped up in his throat. At least it plugged the grief temporarily, and he could think again.

“Who’s shooting?” he croaked. “Shit—there’s that guy from the staff. Owen? Are they hurting him?” Fuck if Gray knew, but he wouldn’t put it past whoever was still alive. A guard or two, the owner from Texas…

“No, I don’t think so, but we gotta go.” Darius handed Gray a new gun, and Cole still had his. Before they went anywhere, Darius double-knocked on the door to the pilothouse and told Jonas to open. Then he instructed Charlie, Lee, and Oscar to hide out with the staff.

On the way to the stairs, Gray inspected his new gun, sure this one felt lighter. It’d belonged to a guard. And right then, he heard something. Had Darius been right? Was there a helicopter nearby? It was getting closer. A juddering thump-thump-thump-thump of the blades had Darius taking three steps at a time before he came to an abrupt stop in the little alcove at the landing. On the other side of the glass door was the upper deck, and they didn’t know what they were facing.

“You boys stay behind me,” Darius commanded quietly. He was looking out the glass, maybe trying to spot the helicopter. He barely fucking flinched when another shot was fired, this one cracking like thunder.

Someone screamed somewhere on the deck.

Darius rubbed a hand over his jaw. “It’s starting to look a lot like friendly fire.”

That was…good? Right?

The helicopter had to be over them, or really close, when Darius carefully opened the door and peered outside. Gray was right there with him, and he watched as a black chopper came into view on their port side. A man was visible in the back, where it was completely open, and he was attaching something to his waist and making a rapid circular motion to the pilot. However the pilot responded, the other man gave a thumbs-up and picked up a bundle of rope.

When Gray caught the man’s profile, there was no missing the rifle on his back. Even against the army green of his body-hugging T-shirt, the black weapon that looked like it belonged in a war zone stood out like a sore thumb. It screamed of danger, and Gray inched toward to Darius. Who was…smirking?

“Angel’s gonna fucking kill me,” he murmured.

“Who?” Gray frowned.

“My brother’s wife.” Darius opened the door wider and stepped out onto the deck as the chopper hovered closer. The rope was dropped and landed near the pool. “And that…is Ryan.”