Chapter 4

After sending the message.

I didn't act like some hot-headed, brainless idiot, grabbing my bag and running downstairs to hail a cab into the mountains.

That wasn't rescuing. That was delivering takeout to the wolves.

I turned and walked into my bedroom, opening the secret compartment at the bottom of my desk drawer to pull out a black, burner satellite phone with zero call history.

I dialed a highly classified, encrypted number that I knew by heart.

The phone rang for half a second before it was picked up.

"Hey, Derek."

"Last month at our family dinner, you got a bit drunk and mentioned that the state and city police have been dead-set on tracking a dark web syndicate operating in the tri-state border forest, called 'The Velvet Mirage.'"

"You suspected it was a transit station for dark web human trafficking and illegal live streaming. But their perimeter security was too tight, they had too many lookouts, and the B2 blast door system was unhackable. You guys were afraid of tipping them off, so you couldn't get the core evidence, right?"

On the other end of the line, my cousin Derek—the head of the city's homicide and major crimes unit, a man who remained unshaken even if the sky fell—suddenly breathed heavily, his voice tightening to the limit.

"Amber! How do you know about this classified intel?! What are you planning? Don't you dare do anything reckless!"

"No time to explain. Chloe's stepbrother is one of the ringleaders. Under the guise of a graduation trip, they set up a death trap and lured my advisor and my entire class into the estate."

"Right now, the guys have been forced to sign multi-million dollar predatory loans, and the girls and the advisor have been heavily drugged, prepared for blackmail videos and dark web streams."

I spoke rapidly but with crystal-clear pronunciation, while simultaneously packing the photos Chloe sent, Maya’s videos, and the cell tower location data I had just reverse-tracked, sending them all to Derek's encrypted email.

"Derek, I just got the passcode to the B2 core area. Chloe is using my classmates' lives to force me there to 'pay the bill.'"

On the other end of the line, Derek slammed his steering wheel, his car horn letting out a sharp wail, followed by a fierce curse.

"Those sick, soulless monsters! They won't even spare kids fresh out of school! Do they think the law is a joke?!"

"Amber, listen to me! Lock your doors and windows right now and stay put! Our unit already had an operation planned tonight around their perimeter. Now that we have your specific room number and the internal layout, I can assemble the SWAT and tactical teams within ten minutes and fly a chopper straight there to breach the doors!"

"It’ll be too late, Derek."

I looked up at the ticking clock on the wall, my voice terrifyingly calm.

"Since The Velvet Mirage has been operating so boldly, B2 must have military-grade blast doors and an automated evidence-destruction system."

"From assembly to breaching, even if you use C4, it will take time. By the time you get in, those videos will have been shot and uploaded, and the evidence will be wiped clean."

"Mr. Miller’s reputation and the lives of those girls will be completely destroyed. The buyers are overseas; you’ll never track them down."

I took a deep breath, my tone brook no argument.

"I need to go in. I’ll be your eyes. I’ll be the bait."

"Equip me with a micro-audio transmitter, a military-grade GPS tracker, and a strong anti-jamming device. I’ll help you secure the final, most crucial piece of the evidence chain. As long as I keep them busy and stabilize the situation inside, you’ll have enough time to complete the perimeter."

The line went dead silent for a full ten seconds.

Only Derek’s heavy breathing could be heard.

He knew my personality too well. I had trained in MMA since I was a kid and won a state championship. I was stubborn as a mule; once I made up my mind, nothing could drag me back.

"Five minutes. Go downstairs. There’s a black, unmarked sedan parked at the back gate of your apartment. My guy will hand over the gear."

Derek’s voice was hoarse, carrying a trace of an undetectable tremor.

"Amber, remember this: your life comes first! No matter what horror you see, do not react rashly. Just drag out the time!"

"The second you send the signal, even if I have to level that damn mountain, I’ll blow that blast door open for you!"

After hanging up.

I quickly changed into a black, tight-fitting tactical athletic outfit that allowed maximum movement, tying my long hair into a tight, neat bun.

Downstairs, I got in the car.

The driver was an undercover cop with sharp eyes. Without a word, he handed me a black tactical pouch.

I expertly put on a micro-audio transmitter disguised as a necklace pendant and slipped the GPS tracker into the hidden lining of my shoe sole.

Before getting out, I thought for a moment, pulled a compact windproof lighter from the bag, and tucked it into my inner pocket.

An hour later.

The black sedan sped up the winding mountain road, finally stopping before the ridiculously luxurious brass gates of "The Velvet Mirage."

The air here was thick with a sickening mix of cheap perfume, cigar smoke, and the stench of decaying wealth.

A bald man with a blood-red scorpion tattoo on the back of his neck walked swaggeringly out from the shadows of the gate. He sized me up, his gaze shamelessly sweeping across my chest and legs, letting out a filthy smirk.

"Miss Amber, right? You really are a beauty. No wonder Manager Chloe kept talking about you. Boss Ryker has been waiting downstairs for a long time. Please."

The bald man didn't take me to the brightly lit scenic elevator that led to the lobby.

Instead, he led me through a series of twists and turns, passing through the dark kitchen hallways, before pushing open a heavy iron door that read "Staff Only."

A freight elevator, smelling heavily of machine oil, mold, and a faint hint of blood, appeared before us.

I walked in without expression.

The elevator doors slammed shut, plunging us downward.

B1, B2, B3.

As the elevator descended, the signal bars on my phone screen vanished one by one until it turned into a glaring red 'No Service' icon.

The moment the elevator doors opened again.

It felt like stepping straight into a twisted, chaotic demon's den.

Unlike the fake, classical luxury of the ground level, the air here was thick and suffocating.

Deafening heavy metal EDM blasted, mixed with the crude laughter of men, the desperate screams of women, and the sound of breaking glasses, rushing over me like a tidal wave.

Under the flashing red and purple lights, the hallway was lined with half-open VIP rooms.

From time to time, girls dressed in extremely skimpy outfits with hollow eyes were dragged by their hair into the rooms by burly men, before the doors slammed shut.

This was Chloe’s so-called "study seminar of European high society."

The bald man led the way, looking back at me occasionally, seemingly waiting to see me cry in terror.

But my face remained as still as water, my breathing completely steady.

He sneered, bringing me to the very end of the hallway.

Before a heavy, solid bronze blast door.

The bald man entered a long, complex passcode, followed by a retinal scan.

With a long beep.

The heavy blast door slowly swung open.