Chapter 110 We Are Here to Save You
The words "I'll kill you" had barely left Zander's mouth when Alvin flinched hard.
He'd been around enough dangerous men to know when a threat was real. This wasn't bluster. The boy in front of him was giving him a choice—obey, or die right here.
"Wait, wait… I'll cooperate! I'll cooperate!" Alvin's voice cracked with panic. Even if the police caught him, there'd be a trial. No matter how filthy his crimes, the cops wouldn't execute him on the spot. But if he refused this man, he was sure the next second would see a bullet through his skull.
"The girls… they're locked in the basement of my villa on the outskirts," Alvin stammered.
"Exact address," Zander said, voice cold.
"Ravenhill Manor. Number 28."
Before the words had fully left his mouth, Asher was already pulling up the location on his phone. Twenty minutes away.
The moment Alvin thought he might breathe again, Zander pulled a gleaming knife from somewhere unseen and drove it toward Alvin's back.
Alvin screamed, bracing for pain… but felt nothing. He looked down to see the ropes binding his wrists slashed clean through.
He had no time to speak before Asher yanked him back into the vehicle, tossing him a pen and paper. "Write down the contact details and basic info for every man in your crew."
These three masked figures had guns, blades, and the kind of lethal skill that came from serious training. And the girl—Amelia—the one who'd nearly killed Rocky in the ring and stopped a speeding car with one hand… she was terrifying.
Even with his hands free, Alvin didn't dare resist. Calling the police would be suicide.
His fingers trembled as he reached for the pen. A cold muzzle pressed into his ribs.
Dorian held the gun steady in one hand, flipping through Alvin's confiscated phone with the other. Her sharp, fearless eyes locked on him. "Don't even think about playing games. In the next twenty minutes, you'll write down every single person involved in kidnapping and trafficking girls, plus anyone who handles delivery to buyers."
"When we find those girls, we'll hand you to the police. This list goes to them. If we find you left out a name or refuse to cooperate… even in a holding cell or prison, we'll make sure you regret it. Understand?"
Alvin swallowed hard. "…Understood. Understood."
"Now. Give me your black market account and password."
Dorian navigated to a hidden browser, opening a site Amelia recognized instantly—the black market.
As Dorian logged in, Amelia's mind flashed to someone from the K.A Club group chat. The Border Ridge City girl who'd helped her find Pearl's account and even lent her own credentials.
Alvin's account showed fifty-six completed orders.
Fifty-six innocent girls, sold for profit. Fifty-six lives destroyed.
Dorian's eyes burned red. Without hesitation, she grabbed Alvin's left hand—the one not holding the pen—and snapped the wrist.
"Ahhh—!"
Alvin's scream ripped through the night.
Asher winced, irritated. He drove his knife into Alvin's thigh. "Make another sound, and I'll cut your tendons right now."
Alvin bit down so hard he tasted blood, tears and snot streaking his face. He didn't dare make a noise.
These people weren't human. They were demons.
If he'd known, he would have called the cops back at The Deep. Even prison would be better than this.
Shaking, Alvin confessed. Of the fifty-six girls, the first ten had been driven to poor rural areas in the country. The rest were smuggled overseas—sold into brothels, forced marriages, organ trafficking, or handed over to sadists.
It was monstrous.
Twenty minutes later, the car rolled to a stop outside Ravenhill Manor. Dorian photographed Alvin's handwritten list, then dragged him out.
The villa's basement was exactly as described.
Down a narrow, damp staircase, they found a row of small rooms. Alvin stammered that five girls were currently held there, awaiting buyers.
Dorian didn't hesitate. She broke Alvin's right wrist. He wouldn't be using it again.
Asher and Zander bound Alvin and his driver together, tying them to a pillar until they were cocooned in rope, duct tape sealing their mouths.
Dorian and Amelia took the lead, moving to free the girls.
The first four rooms held unconscious young women, sprawled on the floor. Alvin had drugged them.
At the fifth door, Amelia pushed it open—and steel flashed.
A sharpened object lunged straight for them.
"Careful!" Amelia's voice was sharp as she spun, pulling Dorian with her. The weapon grazed her cheek, drawing a line of blood.
She turned to see the attacker—a crude weapon made from a metal spoon, filed to a deadly point. If she hadn't reacted, it would have gone straight into Dorian's throat.
The girl wielding it froze when she saw them. Her white dress was filthy, her hands trembling. She stepped back, voice shaking. "Who… who are you? Are you with Alvin?"
Amelia took her in—a small frame, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with waist-length dark-gold curls matted and tangled. Her face was dirty, but her features were striking. Mixed blood. Celestria heritage, pale green eyes.
She understood the girl's fear. The attack had been born of desperation.
"We're not his people," Amelia said softly. "We're here to get you out."