Chapter 2

I slid my phone into my jacket pocket and walked down the hallway toward the director’s office.

The orphanage was quiet at night. Somewhere in the distance, a heating pipe clicked softly now and then.

After the kids were asleep, the building felt half-empty, and my footsteps echoed clearly on the wooden floor.

The director’s door was slightly ajar, a thin strip of light leaking through the gap.

As I got close, I heard her on the phone.

“How could you give the number to an outsider?” A man on the other end sounded sharp. “Did you forget the rules?”

I stopped outside, leaned my back against the wall, and kept my breathing light.

The door was thin. Every word carried.

Margaret Hale’s voice followed right away—explanatory, and scared.

“I had no choice. He’s been donating to us for years, and he suddenly came back asking about the boy. I couldn’t just shut him down.” She paused, as if trying to sound more innocent. “He kept asking about Noah all day. If I refused to give him the number, he’d get suspicious. If he calls the police, that’s even worse.”

The man gave a cold laugh.

“Police? What evidence does he have?”

“I don’t know,” Margaret said, lowering her voice. “I just know he’s watching closely. He said he wanted to call the kid and make sure everything was fine. I figured you’d answer and brush him off. A few lines, and it’d be over.”

That confirmed it. The man chewing her out was the same one who’d been with Noah on the call—he’d taken my call, then immediately phoned Margaret to pressure her.

“Who is he?” he asked, more direct now. “Is he safe?”

Margaret denied it instantly, like she wanted to shove the whole risk away from herself.

“He’s just a regular labor guy. He did some physical work after he left here. Now he says he wants a job at the orphanage. No background—he won’t understand what we’re doing.”

I didn’t move, my eyes fixed on the line of light under the door.

Of course she didn’t know what I’d done outside these years. And I had no intention of letting anyone here know.

The man went quiet for two seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was lower—meaner.

“Listen. Forget the phone number. Stick to the plan. One kid isn’t enough—get a few more if you can. You handle the supply. Don’t change the price again. The motel is waiting. Get it done by tomorrow night at the latest, one night of transit, then to the warehouse. Don’t screw this up again.”

Margaret sucked in a breath, like someone who’d finally been allowed air.

“I understand. I’ll put the list together as fast as I can.”

Hearing that, any last bit of doubt died.

Adoption. Paperwork. Follow-up calls. All of it was a cover.

Noah hadn’t been taken to a new home. He’d been sold—sold into a chain that treated kids like cargo.

Margaret was one link in that chain. Her job was to make the paperwork look clean, so on the surface it would seem like these kids had been adopted and no one would question it.

They picked kids with no family, no visitors, no one watching. Then they sold them like it was nothing.

I didn’t wait another second.

I pushed the door open. It banged against the wall with a dull thud.

Margaret whipped around, the receiver still pressed to her ear.

Surprise flashed across her face, then fear—like I was something that wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Jack?” She forced the name out, her voice dry. “What are you—”

I walked up and smashed my fist down on the desk phone.

Plastic cracked. The line went dead. The office filled with the tail-end hiss of static and Margaret’s quick, shallow breathing.

I grabbed her by the collar and dragged her up from the chair.

Her toes barely touched the floor as she stared at me, terrified.

I looked straight into her eyes and spoke as calmly as if I were asking for directions.

“Where is the child?”

She tried to pull back, but I tightened my grip.

Her hands came up—half explanation, half defense.

“Calm down, Jack. Listen, this is a legal adoption, the papers—”

I cut her off. “Where is the child?”

Her lips trembled. Her eyes darted.

She tried to keep talking, but she realized I wasn’t listening, and I wasn’t giving her time to build excuses.

For me, time was worth more than anything she could say.

Footsteps rushed down the hallway. A shadow hit the doorway.

Nina Brooks burst in wearing a coat, hair messy, her face tight from being jolted awake.

“What’s going on?” She saw my hand on the director’s throat, froze for a beat, then lowered her voice. “Jack—don’t do this. Let her go. The kids are asleep. You’ll wake everyone up.”

I didn’t turn around, but I knew Nina. She was one of the few people here who actually did the work, and cared about the kids.

Her presence mattered, because I needed someone to hold the orphanage together while I was gone.

“Step aside,” I told her.

Nina tried again, eyes flicking between me and Margaret, her voice more urgent. “What are you doing? She’s the director—”

I didn’t explain.

I reached into the pen holder and pulled out a letter opener. Short blade, sharp enough.

The metal caught the light. Margaret’s pupils tightened, her whole body stiffening.

I set the tip lightly against the skin beside her right eye. No pressure—just the cold threat of it.

My voice stayed steady, almost patient, like I was giving her a last chance to choose.

“Where is Noah right now?”

Margaret swallowed hard, the words coming out like broken breath. “You’re insane… you’ll go to prison for this.”

I stared at her without blinking. “Answer.”

She broke.

Not from guilt—fear crushed whatever calculation she still had. Tears spilled fast, dark makeup smearing down her cheeks. Information started pouring out in fragments, like she was buying seconds with every word.

“I don’t know… I really don’t know.” She spoke too fast. “I only know they take the kids to a motel, a transit point. Someone there takes over. After that—where they go, how they load them—I’m not allowed to ask. Noah… Noah was taken last night. He should be at the motel now. Tonight he stays there. Tomorrow morning… tomorrow morning they move him to the warehouse.”

A motel. A transit point. The warehouse tomorrow morning.

Hearing it from her mouth made it sharper than anything I’d overheard outside the door.

Nina covered her mouth. She understood, but she couldn’t believe it.

I loosened my grip just enough for Margaret to breathe, but the blade stayed right where it was.

“Address,” I said. “Which motel? How do we get there? Who’s on the other end?”

Margaret nodded again and again, like one slow beat would get her killed. “I’ll take you. I’ll take you there. Put the knife down—we’ll get in the car, I’ll point the way. I’ll tell you everything.”

I pulled the blade back, but I didn’t let go of her.

I turned my head toward Nina. “Noah wasn’t adopted. It’s a sale. And it’s not just him—other kids have been taken too.”

Nina’s face drained of color. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Fear flickered through her expression, and then anger and shock pushed it aside.

“Nina, listen carefully,” I said. “Go to the dorms. Get the kids into one place. Lock the doors, lock the windows. Don’t open for anyone, no matter who knocks. If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, call the police.”

Calling the cops right now could spook them. If they got wind of it, they’d move the kids—or worse, start cutting loose ends. Noah’s safety came first.

Nina nodded hard, then turned and ran. Her footsteps disappeared down the hall.

I clamped my hand around Margaret’s wrist and hauled her out.

She tried to fight, tried to scream, but all she could manage was short, panicked gasps.

Before leaving the building, I glanced once down the hallway.

The orphanage was still quiet. The kids were still asleep. And that was exactly why I couldn’t let this place stay “quiet” while they used it to hide filth.

I shoved Margaret into the passenger seat, pulled out a zip tie, strapped her down, and slammed the door.

When the engine turned over, my goal locked in just as hard.

The motel.

I was going to get Noah back before they shipped him to the warehouse.