Chapter 35 The abandoned warehouse in Prague looks exactly like the intelligence reports promised-decrepit from the outside, but Kira's thermal imaging shows it's been converted into a high-security facility. Madame Rouge's final hideout. "Targets confirmed inside," Kira's voice crackles through my earpiece. "Six guards, plus Rouge herself. She's in the main office, second floor." Finding Kira again had been pure chance-a face I recognized in a Moscow café, both of us hunting the same shadows. The diplomat's daughter had been using her father's connections to track Rouge's network while I followed the money trails. Two survivors with complementary skills and the same burning need for justice. I check my weapons one final time, thinking of little Maisie back home with my parents. Three months old and already the center of our world. We named her after the girl who didn't make it out-the one whose death I carry with me every day. "Updates from the girls?" I ask quietly. "Jessica's doing well in therapy," Kira reports through our encrypted channel. "Finally talking about what happened. Ava finished her first semester at Northwestern-full scholarship. Pre-law, naturally." Good. The girls we saved from the auction are building real lives, healing, becoming whole again. Every success story makes this hunt more personal. "Natalie?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know. "Still struggles with crowds, but she's working at that animal sanctuary in Montana. Says the horses understand silence." Kira's voice softens slightly. "Zoe's been clean for eight months. Got her art into a gallery in Portland." Six survivors. Six girls who refused to stay broken. And one who didn't make it out alive-the reason I'm here. "And Rouge's current operation?" Dante asks through comms from his position covering the rear exit. "Sixty-three girls trafficked in the past year," I say, my voice hardening. "Ages fourteen to twenty. Three confirmed deaths." My hand drifts to the photo of baby Maisie tucked in my vest pocket. "She's accelerating." Which is why this ends tonight. We move. Dante and his team secure the perimeter while Kira and I infiltrate through the skylight she identified. The guards are good, but they're not expecting a coordinated assault from someone who's spent a year studying every aspect of Rouge's operation. The first guard goes down silently to Kira's tranquilizer dart. The second doesn't even see me coming before the pressure point strike drops him unconscious. We're ghosts moving through her domain, using every skill I've acquired to dismantle the empire she built on broken girls. "Second floor secured," I whisper as we reach Rouge's office door. Through the frosted glass, I can see her silhouette-still elegant, still poised, speaking quietly into a phone. Probably arranging another shipment of girls. "Madame Rouge," I say, stepping into her office with my weapon trained on her perfectly coiffed head. "Remember me?" She doesn't startle. Instead, she merely sets down her phone with deliberation and turns to face me. The same predatory poise, the same shrewd eyes that measured us like merchandise. "Ah, Sofia Renaldi." Her voice carries that same subtle French accent, cultured and dangerous. "Though I confess, you present quite differently than our last encounter. Motherhood, they say, changes a woman in the most...fundamental ways." The fact that she knows about Maisie-it feels like someone has wrapped a hand around my throat. But I keep my expression neutral. "You've been watching." "One monitors one's investments, naturally." Her painted lips curve in that horrible fucking knowing smile I remember from the auction. "Your transformation has been quite remarkable. From frightened girl to...what shall we call this? Avenging angel? Though I suspect your methods are far less divine." "Cut the philosophical bullshit," Kira says, moving to flank Rouge's position. "You know why we're here." Rouge's gaze shifts to Kira with something like approval. "Ah. The diplomat's daughter. Your father's connections have served you well, I imagine. Though I doubt he would approve of your current"-she eyes Kira with distaste-"extracurricular activities." "My father taught me that some debts must be paid in full," Kira replies coldly. "Indeed. Debts." Rouge glides to her desk, settling into her chair like she's holding court rather than facing execution. "Though one might argue that you benefited considerably from our...association. You learned skills, developed capabilities you would never have acquired in your pampered diplomatic existence." "At what cost?" I ask, keeping my weapon trained on her. "At the cost of innocence, naturally. But innocence, ma chère, is vastly overrated. It is merely ignorance dressed in prettier clothing." She leans into her chair with deliberate calm. "Look at what you have become. Look at the empire you could build with what I taught you." "You taught us nothing but cruelty," I snarl. "I taught you survival. I taught you that the world takes what it wishes from those too weak to defend themselves. And now? Now you take what you wish from those who cannot stop you." Her smile turns predatory. "We are not so different, you and I." "We're nothing alike," I say, but something cold settles in my stomach at how easily the words come, how natural this feels. "Non? Then why are you here, armed and dangerous, rather than reporting me to your various authorities? Why hunt me personally rather than trust in justice?" Her head tilts slightly. "Because you understand, finally, that some things require a more...personal touch." The truth in her words makes me sick, but I don't lower my weapon. "For Maisie," I say quietly, thinking of my friend who died because of this woman's greed. "For Jessica, Ava, Natalie, Zoe. For every girl whose life you destroyed for profit." "Ah yes, dear Maisie. Such a waste. She had such potential." Rouge's expression doesn't change. "Though I understand you've honored her memory in the most intimate way. Your daughter carries her name, does she not?" My finger tightens on the trigger. "Don't." "Such fierce maternal instinct. How beautifully primal." She steeples her fingers together. "Your daughter will grow up knowing exactly who her mother is-what her mother is capable of. Do you imagine she will thank you for this legacy?" "She'll grow up safe," I say through gritted teeth. "That's what matters." "Safe, yes. But from what? From people like me? Or from the knowledge of what her mother became in pursuit of that safety?" Rouge's smile is sharp as broken glass. "The sins of the mothers, ma chère, echo just as loudly as those of the fathers." I study her for a long moment, then smile-not the cold, predatory expression she's trying to provoke, but something warmer. Something she could never understand. "You still don't get it, do you?" I say quietly. "You think you're in my head, but you're not. You're just...pathetic. A broken woman who convinced herself that cruelty was strength." Her composure flickers for the first time. "My daughter will grow up knowing exactly who her mother is," I continue, my voice steady and sure. "She'll know I'm the woman who stopped monsters like you. Who protected innocent girls. Who chose love over fear, family over profit, justice over cruelty." "You're a killer-" Rouge starts. "I'm a mother," I interrupt. "I'm a protector. I'm someone who refuses to let evil flourish because good people do nothing." I raise my weapon with absolute certainty. "And you? You're just another monster who thought she was untouchable." "When you kill me, as we both know you will, how will you explain⁠-" "I'll explain that sometimes protecting the innocent requires eliminating the irredeemable." My finger tightens on the trigger. "And I'll sleep perfectly well knowing that sixty-three girls won't become your victims. That Jessica, Ava, Natalie, and Zoe can truly move on. That my daughter will grow up in a world with one less predator." Understanding finally dawns in Rouge's eyes-not just that she's going to die, but that her psychological games have failed completely. She has no power here. No control. No final victory. "For Maisie," I say simply and pull the trigger. The shot is clean, final. Madame Rouge crumples behind her desk, and with her falls the last shadow from my past. "Target neutralized," I report through comms, feeling lighter than I have in months. "Beginning data extraction." As we download her files and prepare for extraction, Kira touches my shoulder. "How do you feel?" "Free," I answer honestly. "Finally, completely free. And you?" Kira is quiet for a moment, then speaks in Russian first: "Как камень с души." She translates with a small smile. "Like a stone lifted from the soul. Yes, I feel free too." We leave the warehouse as sirens begin to wail in the distance. Behind us, authorities will find evidence that will shut down trafficking rings across three continents and free dozens of girls. They'll discover financial records that will topple corrupt officials and destroy Rouge's entire network. As our extraction vehicle speeds through Prague's darkened streets, Dante reaches over and squeezes my hand. "How are you feeling?" "Really good," I say, pulling out the photo of baby Maisie. "Like I can finally breathe again." He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently. "Ready to go home to our daughter?" "More than ready," I answer, studying Maisie's sleeping face in the photo. "She's safe. We're all safe." For the first time in over a year, I smile without any shadows behind it. The hunt is finished. Justice is served. And I get to go home to my family-the family I chose, the life I built, the future I fought for. I am Sofia Renaldi-Moretti. I am a survivor, a mother, a protector of the innocent. And I am finally, completely, triumphantly free. In a romance-themed observation show, several participants undergo a series of interactions and conflicts filled with love, misunderstandings, and power struggles. In the end, one couple rises to over...