Chapter 247: Racing Against Time The Maybach waited at the curb like a panther in tuxedo paint, its driver standing so still he might as well have been auditioning for Buckingham Palace guard duty. "I need the keys," I said. No explanation, no preamble. He handed them over instantly, the kind of professional who understood that sometimes the smartest move was not to ask why the man in the tuxedo suddenly needed the million-dollar toy. Flexibility: priceless. "Laptop’s in the back," I told Soo-Jin as we slid into the leather cocoon. "You’re about to meet ARIA. She’ll help narrow down Margaret’s location." Her eyes lit up when she saw the machine, fingers stroking the brushed metal like it was some forbidden lover. "Very nice computer," she said. "Much better than what bad men give me." "Bad men cut corners. I don’t." I started the engine, guiding the car into Miami’s late-night snarl. Neon lights smeared across the windshield, the city dripping its usual cocktail of wealth and rot. "ARIA, meet Soo-Jin. Soo-Jin, ARIA," I said, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping into the Maybach’s command console. "Hello, Soo-Jin," ARIA’s voice purred from the speakers, precise and clear, as if the car itself had come alive. "I understand you have intelligence on criminal safe houses." Soo-Jin nearly bolted out of her seat. "The AI talks like humans not just computer!" She stared at me like I’d just pulled a rabbit out of a nuclear reactor. "You have talking AI, like in movies!" "She’s better than movie AI," I said. "Hollywood prefers their machines homicidal. Mine’s useful." Her awe burned off quickly, replaced by professional focus. Fingers flew across the keyboard, maps and notes spilling out—data she’d smuggled through three years of captivity with the quiet precision of someone who never planned on staying caged forever. "This place," she pointed, "for girls like me. Long-term workers. Months, years." Her finger shifted. "This place, quick money. Rich men, one night, maybe weekend." The third: her voice broke into a whisper. "Organs. Very bad. Girls go in, never come out." The last location made her lip curl. "Special orders. For very rich, very powerful. Very private." ARIA processed it all instantly, voice calm in the face of horror. "Cross-referencing with Margaret Thompson’s profile. Most probable destinations: special orders facility, or short-term high-end location." "Exactly," Soo-Jin said, almost relieved the machine confirmed what she already knew. "Rich woman like Margaret... not for organs, not long work. She is for scaring people. Or selling to very rich, very bad man." The air thickened inside the Maybach, the weight of her words pressing down harder than the Miami humidity. "ARIA, run full satellite surveillance on both targets," I ordered, swinging the Maybach into a sharp turn that made the suspension groan in protest. "Running thermal and visual scans," ARIA replied. "Multiple heat signatures detected at both sites. No definitive biometric match for Margaret Thompson." Soo-Jin leaned toward the glowing laptop, her face tight. "ARIA... can you see inside buildings?" "My satellite access allows thermal imaging and some structural analysis, but—" "Bad men know about satellites," Soo-jin interrupted, not missing a beat. "They build special rooms underground, or they use materials that block... what you call—" "Thermal signatures," ARIA supplied smoothly, as if reading aloud from the instruction manual for defeating evil. "Yes! They make rooms where government satellites cannot see. Very smart, very careful." Soo-jin’s eyes flicked to me, admiration mixed with frustration. "Your AI lady is very powerful, but bad men are also very smart." I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, knuckles pressing into the leather. "So we’re going in blind." "Not completely blind," she said, bringing up another screen. "I know how they think, how they work. Margaret is important lady, yes? Very important?" "Extremely." "Then she is at one of special orders places. They will keep her perfect, no damage, until they know what to do with her." Her fingers traced the routes on the digital map with precision. "Other places... they hurt people, mark them. Special orders places are for keeping people like new jewels." I pressed the accelerator, letting the Maybach surge through Miami’s arterial streets. Neon and asphalt blurred past, the city giving way to darker outskirts where civilization thinned into danger. The engine purred like a restrained predator, but urgency pressed on me harder than speed limits—my reflexes honed, every sense alert. "Master," ARIA’s voice cut through the low growl of the engine into my ears, "while we’re en route, I’m conducting a comprehensive background analysis on Soo-Jin." In the rearview mirror, I watched her work with sharp focus, fingers dancing across the keyboard like she was conducting a digital orchestra. Not Tommy’s level—she’d started later—but trained under duress, capable of brilliance born from necessity. "Background verification complete," ARIA reported. "Soo-jin Park’s account is accurate like previously confirmed. Summary; Disappeared from Busan three years ago, brought to the US on fraudulent documentation, forced into prostitution ring operated by subsidiary networks." The forest road appeared ahead, narrow and overgrown, more hiking trail than thoroughfare. Trees leaned in, their branches knitting a tunnel of darkness that the Maybach’s headlights carved through. "Master, I’ve identified connections between Soo-Jin’s documented traffickers and the current operation. The network ultimately traces back to Dmitri Volkov." That name hit like a cold slap. "Dmitri fucking Volkov?" "One of the three primary investors attempting to acquire Charlotte’s company through hostile means," ARIA confirmed. "His legitimate business interests are fronts for extensive criminal enterprises: human trafficking, organ harvesting, arms dealing, financing terrorist organizations, and providing underage escorts to high-profile clients." I glanced at Soo-Jin, still absorbed in her work. "Bingo," I muttered. "Thank you, Soo-Jin." The girl had just handed us intelligence we hadn’t even realized we needed. We were focused on saving Margaret, but she had connected the dots to the bigger conspiracy trying to devour Charlotte’s empire. And suddenly, every corner of this dark city felt like it was part of my chessboard. "Master, this changes our strategic approach significantly," ARIA said, calm and precise. "Unlike their corporate takeover methods, Dmitri’s criminal operations are less sophisticated digitally. To government it might be strong, but not me. I can penetrate their networks and gather actionable intelligence." The Maybach bounced over roots and rocks as we descended deeper into the forest. Not exactly terrain for luxury sedans, but it beat walking, and I made a mental note: suspension stress is still cheaper than having to carry my ass through this mess. "However," ARIA added, "Helena Voss remains separate from Dmitri’s street-level operations. She orchestrates the three vultures’ collective business acquisitions, but maintains distance from their individual criminal enterprises." "So the three agents following Margaret tonight?" "Ellis, Sloane, and Kane report directly to Helena, not to Dmitri’s trafficking network. Tonight, Helena needed immediate tactical support and requested assets from Dmitri’s operation." The trees thinned ahead, revealing our destination: a compound deep enough that screams wouldn’t carry to civilization, the kind of place where hope goes to die if you stay too long. "Master, we have a problem," ARIA’s voice carried new urgency. "Financial transfers in Charlotte’s mother’s account. They have acquired five percent of Margaret’s shares." Adrenaline surged. I floored the accelerator. The Maybach surged forward, suspension groaning as we crashed through the forest night like a guided missile aimed at salvation or destruction. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" If they’d managed to steal Margaret’s shares, then... yeah. Shit just got personal. My phone rang—Charlotte Thompson. I answered immediately. "Charlotte." "Eros, five percent of my mother’s shares just got transferred out of her accounts!" Her voice was tight with panic. "How is this possible unless—" "They probably stole them," I cut her off before she could spiral further. "Charlotte, listen carefully. Step away from your phone and close any laptops. Don’t worry about the shares—I’m going to have Tommy activate software that will protect the rest of your holdings." I took a breath, forcing calm into my voice despite the chaos. "Your enemies are more dangerous than we realized. Better safe than sorry. You trust me to handle this, right?" "Yes, but—" "Good. Don’t use your phone again tonight. I know you’re worried about your mother, but I need you to give the phone to Madison." A pause. Muffled conversation. Then Madison’s voice came through: honey poured over broken glass. "Hey hon," she said sweetly. "I know you know what I’m doing," I said, navigating around a fallen tree. "I need you to keep Charlotte away from all communication devices. This will stop her enemies from calling to blackmail her about her mother even if for a few five minutes... that would do. Just distract her for me, my queen." "Consider it done. Be careful, Eros." I hung up and pressed harder on the gas. Truth: I’d lied to Charlotte about having protective software ready. Better a controlled lie than her panicking and doing something stupid. The compound appeared ahead through the trees: low buildings surrounded by chain-link fencing, the kind of place where hope went to die if you didn’t move fast. I was about to walk into a firefight against trained operatives with nothing but enhanced physical abilities and downloaded combat skills I’d never actually used. The system had given me weapons expertise—but no actual weapons. Long night ahead. Razor’s edge. Life and death balanced like a coin spinning in zero gravity. But what’s the point of supernatural abilities if you never risk everything to save someone who matters? Time to find out exactly how divine I really was.