All Along the Watchtower (Chapter 6)
[can also be read on AO3]
Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)
Word count: 6.6k
Warnings: Minors DNI - descriptions of torture, threats of violence, morally gray characters, swearing, smoking, mentions of human trafficking, strangling, physical violence, gun violence
Summary: Sergeant Rory Sinclair must face the aftermath of her decision to enter the belly of the beast, fighting to save the lives of six women, and facing down Bratva enemies
A/N: Rory Sinclair is a dual citizen (both Canada and the UK) who's been living in the UK since she was 14. She is 28 at the time of this fic, Price is 32. This series is set in 2017 before the events of the first MW game. Rory's thoughts are bold and italicized, other italics are used for emphasis
October 17, 2017 20:12 - The White Room Gentlemen’s Club
Rory moved through the halls like a shadow amongst the dark corridors, an unseen specter as she chose to head downstairs into the belly of the beast despite knowing full well Price was on the floor above and she was disobeying a direct order. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was making up for the mistakes in the past, the guilt that chewed at her mind – gnawing away at the threads of her sanity – and the lives of those girls she had just watched get dragged inside. She couldn’t sit idly by, not this time. Instinct drove her forward, pushing her into the danger, into the violence she’d left behind. Stepping down gracefully on just the balls of her feet as she descended the stairs rapidly into the basement, her handgun was at the ready, suppressor barrel already screwed on tight. Back pressed to the wall. Checking her corners in the dim light. The music from upstairs was muffled as it drifted down through the ceiling into the damp and musty cellar. Vibrations of footsteps above causing dust and debris to trickle down to the floor sporadically, mixing with the drops of water that echoed like plinking piano keys from the water pipes along the walls. Cold and barren. Her gut twisted as it felt all too similar to that bunker in Syria – another prison she would have to raid.
Quietly she hid in a pitch-black passageway, watching out for the men she had seen earlier, peering down and waiting for the all-clear. A door at the end of the hall opened with a low groan, and ducking back into the shadows, she waited until the men passed and were out of sight before creeping down the hall. Rory’s stress came barreling through her like a freight train as her heart raced, the sweat building on the back of her neck, the tremor in her hands increasing. She had to get a hold of herself, a steadying breath taken with that deep inward rush of air as her lungs inflated, before blowing away all the fear that threatened to spill forth from inside her. Her hand shaking as she wrapped it around the handle of the door, fingers squeezing against the metal, palm clammy with sweat. Pressing her ear to the door for a brief moment, she tried to listen in for the sound of voices, ignoring her own muffled shaking breath. The last thing she needed to do was burst in and put herself and the mission at risk, she had already been far too impulsive.
There was nothing but silence on the other side. It made her stomach drop. Memories of the tearful sobs of women and children flooded her head. That eerie silence that filled the room of soldiers as shock rolled through the pack of trained killers like a wave…and the nightmares it had left her with.
She could wait no longer.
Slamming her shoulder against the door as she turned the knob, it blew open and shook on its hinges. Pain was already climbing down her arm from where she had used her body to force her way through. Scanning the room, she checked for enemies. There was nothing. No one.
And then she turned the corner…
Out of sight, huddled away, locked up in what amounted to a cage, sat the women – bound and tied together. Rory’s breath hitched in her throat, the empty pit in her gut only getting deeper as her blood ran cold. Wrapping her fingers through the chain-link fencing that kept them contained, she kneeled down before them, taking in the sight of the six women she had seen stagger in. “Hey,” she whispered harshly, trying to get their attention, checking to see if any of them were cognizant enough to talk or even just to notice her presence.
A young blonde – Rory estimated was likely in her early twenties – stirred at the sound of her voice, eyes fluttering open enough to stare groggily back at her. It was as good a sign as any that she could help. Moving closer to the fence, Rory tried to remain quiet while also getting the blonde’s further attention. “Hey, I’m here to help you, okay?” The woman stared through her like she was a mirage, phasing in and out of reality. A hope too good to be true. She could only imagine what these women had been through to get them here, it was clear that they were still under the effect of some sort of narcotic and she could only assume it was likely Flunitrazepam.
With a soft groan, the woman spoke in a thick Eastern European accent, made heavier by her drowsy state. “English?”
Rory paused and nodded. “I’m going to get you out.”
The sound of rushing water from a flushing toilet stole the Sergeant’s attention, and she quickly turned to notice a door open on the other side of the room, a Bratva enforcer exiting while zipping up the fly of his jeans. He was massive, a hulking giant with a shaved head and wearing a boxy leather jacket. As he looked up and noticed Rory kneeled down, his eyes flared after being caught off guard. Stalking towards her, his arms hung to his sides like a gorilla as he swung his fists. “<Russian>: Little bitch.” His thundering footsteps barreled towards her, knuckles flexing as heavy panting breaths came from him like a snorting bull.
Standing up, Rory’s eyes widened like a prey animal, and she took slow careful movements away from the cage to make space and not have her back to the wall in this case, sliding the grips of her boots backwards against the cement with a quiet scuff. Quick to lift her weapon and aim for his chest, she shot him several times, but it did little to stop or even slow him down.
Would have had more luck with an elephant gun.
Before she could get another shot off, he grabbed the gun in her hand and twisted her wrist while wrenching her arm back until it felt like her muscles might rip apart, tendons fraying like rope. Forced to cry out, spittle flew from her lips as the veins in her forehead rose to the surface and her face turned red in anguish. The enforcer tossed her gun away, the beretta skidding across the floor. Shoving her forward, he slammed her face first into the fencing, quickly overpowering her. Twisted metal wire dug into her cheek and temple as his giant paw of a hand pressed against the other side of her face.
She groaned as he kept pressing harder against her, making her feel small. Powerless . Docile . Slamming the heel of her boot back into his shin with a definitive crack , she broke his concentration long enough to twist her arm free of the lock he had held it in and using the cage for leverage, she lifted herself up it. Climbing the fencing as if she were repelling until she could finally flip up into the air, spinning her body like a gymnast, twisting her legs up like a pretzel around him. The room moved in a flash of color and light as the wind whipped past her ears, her quick action sending them both falling to the ground.
Taken down with the weight of the staggering giant, she lay stunned for a moment, the wind knocked from her. Slowly rolling over onto her side, Rory crawled back up onto her hands and knees, her breathing ragged. Stumbling forward, a muscular forearm curled around her throat, pressing up against her as she was pulled back into the enforcer’s crushing embrace. Lifted off her feet as he stood, her boots dangled in midair. Struggling against him and the sensation of breathlessness, her throat squeezed like she was in the thrall of a boa constrictor. She clawed at his arm, her vision going blurry and her mind dizzy, her ears beginning to ring. Using what remaining strength and determination she had, she began a concerted effort to pry his arm away from her to allow her another breath of air. Wriggling within the leather net of compressive muscle, managing to win back some freedom of movement, she swung her head back against him. Bone knocked against bone as her skull met with his nose and threw him off balance. Sent careening backwards in the direction of the wall behind them, they slammed up against the cement and cinder blocks, hot breath heaving out of him in a gust.
For just a moment he was weakened, and that split second required immediate response. Shoving her elbow back into the soft spot of his diaphragm hidden under his ribs, digging into it, needling the bone as deep as it could go, his arm released like a hinge and she slipped free of his hold. Knees crashing to the floor as she fell, adrenaline kept her numb enough to keep crawling towards her gun. Ignoring the pain until the comforting feeling of metal was in her grasp. Her fingers wrapped around the grip of the beretta and rolling onto her back, she lifted her torso like she was completing a sit up in basic training. Pointing the muzzle up at the enforcer, aiming right between his eyes, the reverberations of the hammer striking against the bullet thundered through her body, and the casing tinkled on the ground like the bell ringing for an angel about to get its wings.
Red shot back against the grey wall in a sudden spurt, a hole left in his skull as the enforcer’s body fell backwards and slid slowly to the ground. Blank eyes stared out at her as the last few tics of a dying nervous system shook his body.
She slumped back to the ground, taking a moment to compose herself and catch her breath, choking out hoarse coughs and wincing at the sudden rush of throbbing aches that seemed to get worse with each beat of her heart, as if the blood itself was pushing the pain to every part of her body. Rory stretched out the ball and socket joint of her shoulder, biting her lip as she closed her eyes. “Fucking hell,” she groaned.
“ Sergeant, Sitrep ,” Price ordered through her earpiece and her eyes widened. It was as if part of her brain had turned off forgetting she was even on a mission. She saw the opportunity and she took it, and now she was in the lion’s den. “Sergeant?” His low husky voice rumbled in her ear and she fought to gather herself, debating whether she wanted to risk getting caught in a lie. “Had to leave the vehicle, Captain.”
“The hell are you on about, Sinclair?”
“Found a back way in. Wanted to make more use of myself than just sitting on my arse.”
“You’re disobeying a direct order from me,” there was a frigid tone to Price’s voice.
“I am, sir. Yes.”
“Better have a damn good reason.”
“I do, sir.”
There was a silent pause, an alarmingly long one, and then his voice came through again, with more grit than he had before. “Don’t get caught. Don’t shoot unless you have to. Things go tits up, I won’t play nice just ‘cause we’ve got history, clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Good.”
The calm only lasted for so long however before a radio in the enforcer’s pocket went off. A man’s voice speaking in Russian. She couldn’t understand the words and couldn't respond. If they didn’t get an answer someone would likely come down and check on what was happening.
Shit was about to hit the fan.
Rory checked the enforcer’s body for any hidden weapons before she was met with more hostiles, her hands becoming stained by the blood from the wounds on his chest as she patted down the pockets of his coat, finding a butterfly knife and slipping it into the back pocket of her jeans. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Every advantage would count in a situation like this – she only had another 12 rounds to her name.
Running back over to the cage, she looked down at the women – the reason she had gotten herself stuck in this mess – and gave her promise to save them. Her vow . “I’m not leaving you in here, okay? Just trust me.” She had no idea if any of them heard her, if most could even understand her, but she had to let them know they weren’t alone – even if she was .
The beat of footsteps on concrete flooring coming from the hallway told her she wouldn’t be for long. She took position beside the door and waited for it to open. Muffled voices from the other side let her know there were multiple hostiles, and they were steadily growing louder. Her heart began to race in her chest, sweat formed on her brow with the adrenaline starting to course through her system once more. Her gun pointed. Hand steady. The door creaked open and before it could even come to a full swing, she caught a glimpse of the first enemy through the crack. Pulling the trigger reflexively, doming the man through the temple, she could hear the weight of his body toppling against the wall on the other side of the door. The low thud of a grown man dropping like a sack of potatoes, and then the grumbling of voices of those forced to pull one of their dead out of the way to get to her, and the squawk of a radio.
---
“ Captain, I think there’s trouble starting ,” Nikolai’s voice reverberated in Price’s earpiece as he collected as much intel as he could, taking pictures on his phone of the log books. His hand froze on the page, holding the log book open with rough, calloused fingers, as steely eyes narrowed. “What’re you talking about, Nik,” he asked in a rough whisper.
“ Three with weapons just headed through the door you went through .”
“Goddammit.” Price dropped his task at the desk and rapidly moved to the door of the office, readying his weapon. He waited, counting down in his head, expecting footsteps and getting nothing.
Silence .
His brow furrowed, nostrils flaring, lip curling in response. Every line on his face carving deeper into his world weary features. There was no fight headed in his direction, it had started on another floor. “Shit, Rory,” he growled.
Storming out of the office, his breath heaved as he barreled his way down the stairs. A living wrecking ball of muscle and force, he felt the unstoppable urge to run headlong into the danger he was sure to face.
“ Captain, are you under fire? ”
“No, Nik. Not me.”
“ Not you? ”
“It’s the fucking Sergeant,” John roared as he entered the fray.
Kicking open the door that led down into the basement, sweat started to build on Price’s forehead, seeping into the knitted wool of his beanie as he raced down the steps. The closer he got to the bottom, the louder the gunshots got – it was a good sign at least, it meant she was still alive and still fighting.
Several Bratva remained in the hall still and Price quickly took them out of commission with shots to the back and the skull. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him and his smoker’s lungs would allow, entering the large room at the end of the hall where the ambush had occurred. Holes had been blown into the ceiling and water pipes hissed with steam as Rory fought off hostile combatants. With a man trapped in a headlock, his bullet riddled body covering hers, she let off the final shots from her suppressed weapon taking out several hostiles. Forced to grab the gun from the man she was using as a human shield, she continued firing her way through the armed mob taking her on.
Gunshots rang out and panic was sure to set in with the patrons up top soon.
The quiet blasts from Price’s suppressed weapon took out several of the armed men before the raging stampede of footsteps above let him know they were in for another flood of enemies. “I told you –” He was fuming, his jaw held tight in a scowl as he fought back the overwhelming urge to rip into her – it wasn’t the time, not with another fight incoming.
“I’m well aware, Captain,” she shot back. Moving effortlessly between each target of hers, more like a dancer than a soldier, it was clear she knew how to take her size and weight into account even against larger enemies. Tossing a grown man over her shoulder, before shooting him in the face, Rory pointed Price in the direction of the imprisoned girls caged in the corner. “Look.”
Removing the last enemy in his way, his eyes went wide at the sight of six young women tied up and left unconscious, but otherwise showed little more reaction as the stoic captain he had learned to become. His jaw locked and he breathed a heavy sigh. “This isn’t what we came here for,” he rasped.
Rory sprinted over to the cage, ignoring his reaction, and knelt down at the fence. Her expression was pained as she gazed upon the huddled mass of women bound together. Women several years younger than herself, who were dealt a rough hand in a world that had so much darkness in it – darkness that Price was committed to fighting against. She looked up at him, her eyes large and innocent, something vulnerable about her that he couldn’t place. “I know, but we can’t just leave them here either.”
Cold grey-blue eyes narrowed once more as the Sergeant continued her protests. “How do you expect us to get them out of here, eh? We don’t know who they are, where they came from…”
Her stare remained focused, that same fire he had seen earlier back to burn like an inferno razing through depths of forest green. She wouldn’t be dissuaded. “We have friends in the CIA and MI6, surely we can pull some strings.” Rubbing at her forehead with her hand, Rory finally turned away from him. “I am not leaving anyone like this,” she hissed.
“This is for the police to handle. Not us.”
Rising back to her feet, the top of her head barely coming over his shoulder, she hardly appeared an intimidating figure and yet didn’t back down from a fight. He respected that . “And you think the police aren’t on the dole for this kind of thing?” Rory crossed her arms over her chest and glanced over at him with narrowed eyes. “You’d really be able to live with yourself knowing you’ve left these women in this situation?”
He grumbled, sniffing as he scrunched his mouth up, lowering his head to meet her eye line. “We’ll talk about this after we deal with the mess you’ve brought down on us.”
Stabbing her tongue into her cheek, her frustration with the situation was clear. “Yes, sir.” She stepped away and began checking the scattered bodies for weapons and ammo, separating the clip and doing a visual check to make sure it wasn’t empty.
Price could do nothing but watch her, his gaze flicking back to look at the women caged only to return to the soldier who had started a firestorm with the Bratva. He already knew if this was any other subordinate under his command he would have tossed their ass onto the next plane back to base after ripping a strip off them from one side and down the other, and yet here she was dragging him into a damn debate as if she were his second in command. She might have been hardened by her time at war, a veteran, but that didn’t change the fact she still had a soft underbelly that could get her in trouble. A lamb with a bleeding heart was asking to be brought to slaughter and made a meal.
Moving to the closest body near him, he started checking for weapons and ammo himself and spoke into his earpiece, “Nikolai, what’s going on upstairs?”
“People are leaving. Being escorted out. More Bratva company incoming, Captain.”
“Right. While they’re distracted, head upstairs and grab the package I put together for Laswell.”
“Happy to.”
He looked over his shoulder back at the woman under his command. “We’ve got another wave incoming, Sergeant. I hope you’re ready, or we’re both fucked.”
She stretched out her shoulder once more and looked over at him as she cocked her weapon. The intense furrow of her brow darkened her eyes, her soft expression made cold as steel, as if a switch had been flipped in her – he recognized that stare all too well. “Ready when you are, Captain.”
Taking the fight back out into the hall, they hid like funnel-web spiders waiting for unsuspecting prey to make that one false step past the darkened passageway. With ample cover and a tighter space to fight it meant they could control the flow. It gave them the high ground.
Rory leaned out from cover at the sound of footsteps, peeking her head around the corner of the wall before shooting the first unsuspecting Bratva soldiers that made their way down. A single bullet to each man’s head.
She was one hell of a shot.
A small smirk pulled at the corner of Price’s mouth. He might have been pissed off with her, but finally getting to see her in action was causing him to soften up to the girl more than he thought he would, especially with a threat looming over their heads. “Scout sniper training, yeah?” He couldn’t help but be impressed with her showing of precision and skill, especially as it wasn’t a firearm designed for it.
She glanced over at him, her back pressed to the wall as bullets began to fly in their direction in response. “Yeah.”
He could hear the pride in her voice as she confirmed his suspicions, a confident grin overtaking his face. “Good shit.” She really was a woman after his own heart. Sure she was a bit of a pain in the ass (if he was being honest) acting on her own accord, but it’s not like he wasn’t the type to break the rules and cut through the bullshit to get what he needed himself.
Quick to return covering fire, she leaned out once more, only having to briefly aim before shooting, listening for the grunts and groans of the men as their bodies gave out to their injuries. “Clip’s almost out. Need you to take point, Captain.” She got off a few more shots, before ejecting the clip and tossing it, swapping positions with Price and grabbing another from her pocket, loading it while he continued firing at their enemies.
Caught in a burst of crossfire, he couldn’t move from his position and his eyes widened as she leaned over across him, her hand held against the wall at his side as she steadied herself, returning fire, sharing his position at the corner. She didn’t look at him, too focused on the fight, but he certainly noticed the way her body curved in against him as his back rested against the hard surface behind him. A reversal of the way he’d first known her. He stared down at her for just a moment longer than he had meant to, his mind drawing a blank before realizing what he had done, forgetting where he was and what was happening. Lifting his own weapon he continued firing, his mind racing as he tried to remember duty above whatever memories he had of her. He was half sure she could feel the way his heart pounded in his chest as she pressed up against him. Luckily, he could blame it on the adrenaline of the fight.
The enemy was swiftly handled and upon realizing they had downed the last, Rory’s eyes drifted up to look at him, finally realizing the rather compromising position they had been caught in through her own volition. She stepped back, and brushed her fingers through her hair as she cleared her throat. He couldn’t help but tilt his head and give her a quick smirk, especially as she refused to bring her eyes back to his.
“We should head upstairs, check on Nikolai.”
“And what of the girls, sir?” Her eyes dragged back to carve into him.
Christ, she was an insistent little thing. “What of them, Sergeant? That isn’t the mission. Thought you said you could follow an order?” He looked at her through his brow. “I put you on comms, didn’t think you’d fly off the handle. I expect a goddamn explanation.”
“I did what I had to.”
“Fuckin’ bollocks.”
“Don’t you dare say that to me,” she seethed. “If my record weren’t as fucking blacked out as it is, you’d know why I went in there.”
“Don’t raise your voice at me, Sergeant,” Price warned.
Rory lowered her volume, but the fight remained in her eyes. “If you had any idea of even half the shit I’ve seen…”
He loomed over her, his chest pressing up against her, his glare dug into her while his voice stayed low, daring her to answer back. “Go on, tell me.”
Her lips parted to speak, but before she could, a loud groan from down the hall caught their attention. One of the Bratva they thought they had killed was still clinging to life amongst his fallen comrades. They both leaned out from their cover position, looking at one another with cocked brows before slowly creeping down the hall together, their weapons at the ready.
At the base of the stairs, a bloodied hand gripped at the railing as the last surviving Bratva soldier tried to pull himself up. Moaning like the living dead as he crawled forward, blood streaking the floor and the wall.
The scowl on her face reappeared and her hand reached out, gripping onto the collar of the man's tracksuit jacket as she pushed him back against the wall. Another groan and his hazy stare flitted between her and Price, his vision swimming with the loss of blood. Hand slipping from his collar and wrapping around his throat as she squeezed. “I'm guessing whoever's in charge isn't the type to get their hands dirty, eh? Where's your boss?” Her voice dropped an octave, low and cold as she threatened the man.
Meeting her with a blank stare, the Bratva soldier’s brow lifted as he spat out blood, giving her no other response. Shoving his head back against the wall once more, a heavy thud banged off the cement. “Your boss, where is he?”
“Sinclair,” Price barked her name, getting her attention. Straightening himself upright as he folded his arms over his chest, casting an intimidating shadow over her and the injured Bratva soldier – it was clear she had forgotten she wasn’t in England anymore.
Rory looked over her shoulder back at Price. “Yes, Captain?”
“I don't think our friend here speaks English.” His head tipped to the side and his brow rose as he looked at her.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Care to do the honors then, sir?”
“It'd be my pleasure.”
Rory continued to hold the man against the wall as his hands pressed at his gut, the blood continuing to pump between his fingers, and Price crept closer.
<Russian>: “Where's your boss? We wanna have a chat.”
The Bratva soldier's gaze couldn't seem to rise high enough to meet Price. The color fading from his face quickly. There was no fight left in him whatsoever. <Russian>: “Upstairs. VIP room. Entertaining guests.”
Price nodded. “Right, let him go. We're headed upstairs.” He stepped past the man, lifting his boot over the blood stains left behind and the bodies piled together to climb the stairs.
“Should I put him out of his misery?” She looked over at him as if to gauge the level of mercy they were willing to show in this fight.
“Not worth it,” he said with a shake of his head.
---
Upstairs, the club was nearly entirely empty now. Most of the staff had exited along with the patrons that had been partying when they had arrived. The dance music still played but there was no one there left to enjoy it, and Rory was pleased as punch. Knowing that she was so close to getting her hands on the man who controlled this operation, she had become a dog with a bone, not willing to let this go.
The VIP room was deserted except for just a few personal bodyguards and one man still sat on the quilted black polyvinyl couch, his arms outstretched across the back of it, seemingly unbothered by the interruption created by the two strangers. An older man with greying hair, the Bratva boss in charge of the establishment, fixed his suit jacket and looked between his two new guests, expecting to get some sort of answer from them through the intimidation of his presence and position of power alone. “Do you know how much of a problem you’ve caused?”
“‘Bout to become more of one.” Price lifted his weapon and shot the last two guards left.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” The man snarled, sitting forward in his seat, the guise of being relaxed falling away instantly.
“Someone with answers.” Rory aimed her weapon and shot both of the Bratva boss’ kneecaps, shattering them on impact with her bullets. She didn’t just want answers, she needed them, and she wasn’t going to ask nicely.
The Russian screamed, guttural and animalistic as he slid over into the couch, his fingers slipping over the manmade material as he tried to grip at it while overcome by pain.
Price didn’t shift, he didn’t flinch, he didn’t even try to stop her now. Remaining completely sturdy. Stoic . Taking a slightly wider stance as he crossed his arms over his chest once more. He was letting her take the lead on this.
Slipping the butterfly knife from her jeans, she walked over to one of the lamps in the room, pulling the cord out of the wall before slicing it off and using it to bind the boss’ hands. Grabbing at them roughly, she tied the knot tight, to the point where his hands started to change colour in a few short moments, and stood over him, twirling the knife in her hand. “Here’s the deal, yeah? You answer our questions, or I turn you into a human pin cushion. Starting with your extremities first. Understood?”
<Russian>: “Fuck you.”
She jammed the knife down into his thigh, turning the blade slightly. “And you’re going to answer in the Queen’s English.” Prying it back out with a jerk.
The Russian shuddered, his whole body shaking from the pain that racked him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You think this will stop anything? <Russian>: “Fucking bitch.” He looked her up and down as spit clung to his lip.
Puncturing his flesh once more, stabbing the knife in just inches from the last wound she’d left, she spoke through gritted teeth, the patience and passivity slipping away from her. “What did I say?”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” His eyes were wide with blind rage.
“A very dangerous woman,” she husked, pulling the knife out of his leg once more and wiping the blood off on his shirt. “I want information, and I want it now. Zorokov . I know you’re working with him, why ? What does he get from this?”
“You mean other than more fucking money?” he spat.
“How does it benefit him being tied to you ?”
“I don’t have to say anything. You’ve no jurisdiction here.”
She hummed. “You’re right.”
Pulling the cigarette pack from the inside pocket of her coat, she slipped one out and placed it to her lips. Collecting her lighter, the flame flickered over the tip as she inhaled. Burning bright, she pulled it from her mouth and tilted her head back blowing a stream of smoke up towards the ceiling. She felt that sudden rush of anger that always swept through her before an interrogation, and then the control that she used over it, closing off that part of herself that still believed in human decency, in mercy . Warm hazel eyes that usually sparkled with life became deep and empty, sizing up the man before her like a predator with its prey before it would strike.
“Which is precisely why I can do this.” Stabbing the cigarette into the flesh of his neck, Rory dotted the smoking amber tip against his skin over and over again leaving bright red burns behind.
“Fuck!” He roared, wriggling and writhing away from the cigarette like the snake he was. Willing to make others suffer, but not willing to endure the pain himself. A man playing at being hard.
“Answer my questions and I can make it stop.”
“Fine! Fine!”
She pulled the cigarette away and brought it back to her lips, staring down at him expressionless, the bright orange glow of the end reflecting in her eyes as the ashes spilled off of it.
The Russian took several strained breaths, glaring at her as if looks could kill. “You have no idea what you’ve done, little girl. No idea of who you’re dealing with, how deep this goes.”
“Do tell.”
Rory moved to stand near the captain, noticing that his attention had been kept on her during the proceedings. That despite the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, there was something in his tightly clenched jaw that made him look as though he was trying to suppress something. That perhaps for as little as they really knew about each other, Price had fallen prey to the way everyone else saw her or the way he remembered her, and the image he had of her was being shattered. Threatening a man was second nature to her now. The good-natured part of her, the one that wanted to help people and save the world, the one that made her vulnerable and soft could so easily be turned off in order for her to become the wolf she always said she was.
“It’s lucrative business – drugs and women – always has been, always will be,” the Bratva head rasped. “The world’s oldest profession.”
She blew out another mouthful of smoke, her tongue running over her bottom lip. “And you’re making them do it against their will.”
“These women come from the assholes of the world, I’m giving them opportunity. They’re certainly better off with me than others.”
Her molars ground against each other as she fought to keep down the bile and vitriol that wanted to spit from her. The tremor returned, shaking through her hand and causing her fingers to lock. Price’s eyes dropped to notice the violent shaking that travelled up her arm and the way her hand curled into a fist as she tried to stop it. She couldn’t keep the fury down, her body burning up inside, feeling forced to unleash it. “You son of a bitch!”
Price was quick to hold her back with one arm outstretched across her body. This wasn’t an argument, it was an interrogation and she was losing sight of that, making it personal. Clearer heads had to preside, so he continued the questioning for her. “Who else is he tied up with? Can’t just be one man.”
The Russian chuckled, “Mr. Zorokov has many business partners,” he said with a shrug. “Transactions don’t just happen here.”
“Where are the women coming from?” Rory returned to her line of questioning, her stomach dropping, fearing the answer. She had a feeling she already knew.
“All over. Europe, Middle East, Asia, South America. Doesn’t matter, as long as they come from somewhere where no one will miss them.”
“Christ,” she snarled, lip curling with disgust. Untapped rage boiled under the skin and within the folds of her grey matter. “I should kill you right now.”
“Calm down,” John commanded her under his breath in a husky whisper, his nose wrinkling as he sneered. His attention returned to the prisoner they interrogated. “We let you live, you give up everything you’ve got on Zorokov. We ignore the drugs – it’s not what we’re here for anyway. This business, the front it offers, still all yours.”
She could only stare at her commanding officer as if he had betrayed her, making a deal with a criminal of this sort. Her arm continued to tremble at the thought of a bastard like that getting away with what he had done, his crimes left unpunished.
“I would take the offer if I were you,” Price added, noticing as the Russian seemed to debate with a furrowed brow over the course of action he had just been delivered.
A slimy grin slid across the lips of the Bratva boss. “What’s mine is yours.”
Rory scoffed, turning and marching out of the room, unable to stomach what she had just witnessed, becoming all the more disillusioned with the world.
Out of the sight of the prisoner, Price grabbed her arm, slowing her to a halt as she headed towards the back once more. “Hey! Where the hell do you think you’re off to?”
“You just made a deal with a man who confessed to forcing women into servitude!”
He sighed and his face flinched. “Sometimes you have to make deals with the better of two evils – hell, sometimes it’s with the worse of ‘em. We don’t have the time or the opportunity to be making moral stances here. This is to stop a fuckin’ war, Sergeant. We’re soldiers. You should know that already.”
“But after everything –”
His grip on her arm tightened, his fingers squeezing her. His hard gaze kept on her as he spoke confidently, “He’ll get what’s comin’ to ‘im.”
“He better.”
Price’s hand slipped from her arm, letting her pull away. There was an unspoken promise between them now. Unfinished business that would need to be dealt with, another mess to clean up at a later date, but for now they needed to meet back up with Nikolai and retrieve the intel they had come here for.
Returning to the landing in the back, Nikolai descended the steps carrying the laptop and log books under his arm, and looked between the two soldiers, the tension between them was obvious. “Captain?”
“Head out to the van, Nik. Get it started,” Price ordered. “Need to make a quick exit. We’ve got some unexpected guests coming to join us.”
“Guests?” Nikolai asked, not sure what exactly that meant.
She could feel Price’s gaze on her now, a lingering glance and her eyes lifted to meet his. Her brow was cocked, surprise invading her stare. After everything that had just occurred, after the speech he gave her, she was stunned to find he would actually take her concerns seriously, not expecting him to actually stop and help.
“Six of ‘em.”
“Really?” she was apprehensive to trust. Every experience she had had with a situation like this before proved otherwise.
Price took his eyes off of her, remaining hardened. Shifting his broad shoulders. Keeping up appearances. “Don’t get used to it,” he said gruffly. “This isn’t protocol.”
“What about this mission has been so far, sir?” she scoffed.
His mouth twitched into a grimace. “You know there’s likely gonna be more where they came from once we leave, yeah? This won’t stop it.”
“Yeah. I know.”
It was the worst part of the entire scenario. No matter how much good she tried to do, no matter how many people she tried to save, there were always forces out there with more power who would just continue. More lives stolen. Ruined . But even six lives saved did more for her conscience than she could admit. They just might help her get some sleep at night.
“Well, let’s not fuck about.”
He gave her a nod and it was all she needed to know what was expected of her next. They would be headed downstairs, they would free those women. She could find a little peace.
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Freight Forwarding Software Market 2031: Trends and Growth, Segmentation and Key Companies
The global "Freight Forwarding Software Market Market" report indicates a consistent and robust growth trend in recent times, projecting a positive trajectory expected to persist until 2031. A significant trend observed in the Freight Forwarding Software Market market is the rising consumer inclination towards environmentally sustainable and eco-friendly products. Furthermore, a notable advancement in this market is the increasing incorporation of technology to elevate both product quality and efficiency. Cutting-edge technologies like artificial intelligence, machine learning, and block chain are actively employed to develop innovative products that outperform traditional options in terms of effectiveness and efficiency. The Freight Forwarding Software Market Market Research Report for 2024 highlights emerging trends, growth opportunities, and potential scenarios envisioned up to the year 2031.
By delving into the latest trends, the report keeps businesses abreast of the dynamic market environment, helping them identify emerging opportunities and navigate potential challenges. The meticulous analysis covers various aspects, offering valuable insights into the historical performance of the market and presenting the current (CAGR) status.
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Who are the biggest Freight Forwarding Software Market manufacturers worldwide?
WiseTech (U.S.)
Descartes (Canada)
Riege Software (U.S)
Softlink (U.S)
The Freight Forwarding Software Market Market is described briefly as follows:
The Freight Forwarding Software Market size was USD 253.4 million in 2024 and the market is projected to touch USD 479.1 million by 2031, exhibiting a CAGR of 11.20% during the forecast period.
SWOT Analysis of Freight Forwarding Software Market Market:
A SWOT analysis involves evaluating the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats of a particular market or business. In the case of the keyword market, we'll be looking at the factors that can impact the industry's performance.
Pestle Analysis of Freight Forwarding Software Market Market:
To better comprehend the market environment, a five-force analysis is performed, which takes into account the bargaining power of the customer, the supplier, the threat of substitutes, the threat of new entrants, and the threat of competition.
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What are the Types in Freight Forwarding Software Market Market?
Road Forwarding Software
Ocean Forwarding Software
Air Forwarding Software
Other
What are Applications in Freight Forwarding Software Market Market?
Large Enterprises
SMEs
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Geographical Segmentation:
Geographically, this report is segmented into several key regions, with sales, revenue, market share, and Freight Forwarding Software Market market growth rate in these regions, from 2017 to 2028, covering
North America (United States, Canada and Mexico)
Europe (Germany, UK, France, Italy, Russia and Turkey etc.)
Asia-Pacific (China, Japan, Korea, India, Australia, Indonesia, Thailand, Philippines, Malaysia, and Vietnam)
South America (Brazil etc.)
Middle East and Africa (Egypt and GCC Countries)
Some of the key questions answered in this report:
Who are the worldwide key Players of the Freight Forwarding Software Market Industry?
How the opposition goes in what was in store connected with Freight Forwarding Software Market?
Which is the most driving country in the Freight Forwarding Software Market industry?
What are the Freight Forwarding Software Market market valuable open doors and dangers looked by the manufactures in the worldwide Freight Forwarding Software Market Industry?
Which application/end-client or item type might look for gradual development possibilities? What is the portion of the overall industry of each kind and application?
What centered approach and imperatives are holding the Freight Forwarding Software Market market?
What are the various deals, promoting, and dissemination diverts in the worldwide business?
What are the key market patterns influencing the development of the Freight Forwarding Software Market market?
Financial effect on the Freight Forwarding Software Market business and improvement pattern of the Freight Forwarding Software Market business?
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TOC of Global Freight Forwarding Software Market Market Research Report 2023
1 Freight Forwarding Software Market Market Overview
2 Market Competition by Manufacturers
3 Freight Forwarding Software Market Production by Region
4 Freight Forwarding Software Market Consumption by Region
5 Segment by Type
6 Segment by Application
7 Key Companies Profiled
8 Industry Chain and Sales Channels Analysis
9 Freight Forwarding Software Market Market Dynamics
10 Research Finding and Conclusion
11 Methodology and Data Source
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