He was an enigma. I thought I'd never see him again.
Until the day the task force moved in to rescue the trafficked women.
To keep the "wives" they had bought, the locals were unusually united.

The standoff was escalating toward a bloodbath.
But due to jurisdictional issues in a foreign country, our team only had advisory power.
We couldn't use lethal force.
The rescue team was just a wall away, but they were surrounded by a mob of villagers.
If the standoff continued, we’d have to retreat empty-handed.
And this might be the last chance for those women sold into unknown villages young, doomed to spend their lives there.

The traffickers were inciting the crowd.
One man even shouted that they should assault the women right there to spite the police.
"To hell with the marshals! What are they gonna do?" the mob roared.
Lecherous eyes scanned the group of women. They settled on a pregnant girl crying next to me.

I stepped forward without a word, shielding her.
They dragged me out instead. Several men circled me with predatory grins.
The local police stood with their rifles, frozen.
"Dammit!" I heard my Captain roar from outside.
They were unarmed, bound by international protocol.
Then, a single gunshot rang out.
It turned into a massacre.
A well-equipped private militia swept through the village.
They took out every man they saw with clinical precision.
No mercy, no hesitation. In less than thirty minutes, the village was cleared.
I watched them conduct a systematic sweep before reporting to a man in tactical gear.
That man stood tall, pulling off his goggles with a lazy grace and lit a cigarette for the local police chief.
The local officer, who had been so arrogant before, was now bowing and scraping.
It was as if the slaughter had never happened.
That was the first time I heard the name: "Mr. Thorne."
He was the man I had saved.
My mind was a mess. A drifter? No, in the underworld of this border, Cyrus Thorne was the Devil himself.
I looked down at the blood on my hands.
"Hey."
I looked up. His figure blocked the sun.
Even with a mask covering his face, his features were striking.
But his eyes—beautiful yet venomous—seemed to bore into my soul.
"Want to come with me?" he asked.
I glanced toward the crowd, catching my Captain's eye.
My Captain was shaking his head. Don't go, Posie. Don't go there.
But the crime syndicates were growing bolder, threatening our borders every day.
I turned back and ran toward Cyrus’s shadow.
My undercover life had lasted seven years. Now, a new chapter was beginning.