I watched the three vans drive away down the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust that would hopefully block out the horrific scene they were forever leaving behind.A sense of relief overtook me, the feeling overwhelming in its significance of what had been done today.Another mission completed—another piece of me laid to rest.
But it would never be enough.None of it would ever be enough.
When the job was finally done and everything was secure on our end, we left the sight behind for the local authorities to clean up.
Sitting next to Jason in the back seat of our designated van with Romero content behind the wheel, I leaned my head on his shoulder, the exhaustion from the day taking over.Camaro sat at my feet, her tongue hanging from her mouth as she yawned into a more comfortable position.
“You did good, Jaden,” Jason said as he touched his temple against mine.
I sighed, not in disagreement but in disappointment.No matter how many human trafficking rings we burned down, another one always popped back up.It was never-ending.The suffering was never-ending.But as long as the blood lust ran through my veins, I would continue my reign of fire until nothing but piles of ash remained in my wake.
It was therapeutic in a way.It gave me the outlet I needed to exact my rage on those who deserved it.If I didn’t leave with literal blood on my hands then it was considered a slow day for me.
Glancing down, I looked over the dark crimson still drying on my forearm.The stickiness of it clung to my skin, tightening across the rough scar from the wolf bite I sustained so many years ago in Alaska.The rivulets streaked down to crust over my wrist where bold ink once tarnished my skin before I had it lasered away.The pain of it helped break some of the chains that bound my body to the past, but not my mind.Those chains were much more resilient than tattoo ink.
A larger hand, just as dirty as mine, gently laced warm fingers through my trembling ones, clutching tightly in a comforting embrace and grounding me back to the present.Jason’s scarred knuckles fiddled with the blood-coated silver wedding band circling my left ring finger, reminding me of better times.
Five years had passed since I changed my status from victim to survivor to hunter.A half decade of therapy couldn’t undo the mental damage Darren fucking Davis had inflicted on me, and I still struggled to this day with all my various diagnoses.Post-traumatic stress disorder, amnesia, paranoia, depression, anxiety, obsessive-compulsive disorder, the list went on.
But the most surprising was getting diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder, formally known as multiple personality disorder.
At first, I had originally thought to panic about it, but DID wasn’t what most people believed it to be.I wasn’t splitting into multiple different personalities like the movies often portrayed.The severity of that was incredibly rare.Only 5 percent of diagnosed people exhibited obvious switching between personalities.And a lot of them didn’t even know they were switching.
After much thought and deliberation, it started to make a lot of sense to me once I finally accepted it.I had been through so much trauma that my brain had to do something to protect me.And this was its only solution.
When I switched, it was only into a stronger version of myself, an alter that could handle all the daily abuse and trauma, then compartmentalize it away for my own protection.My therapist told me it was my only form of self-defense back then, a way for me to endure the life I had been forced to live for nearly four fucking years.It was how I had survived for so long without going completely catatonic.
I never realized when it happened.I just felt myself harden inside like a brick wall so I could endure all the punches coming my way.And when it was over, I’d file it away like I did all the other moments I wanted to forget.
It started when Darren had kept me in the basement for all those weeks until I was a different person—broken beyond repair.But then I finally got a taste of the violence I didn’t know I needed, and suddenly, my shield was born.
I’d since learned to manage it better, but it had been a long and difficult road to merge myself somewhat back together with all the other disorders I was afflicted with.There was no cure for DID, but I had learned to co-exist with both versions of myself in reasonable harmony under some very intense psychotherapy and proper medication.
Sometimes the switch came in handy, mostly on days like this where I would be faced with the horrid reminders of my past in the eyes of others.The only saving grace came from brutally murdering the tormentors of this trade and breaking the chains of their victims.
It took years to get to this point, though.
For a long time, I had been a danger to myself and to others.I’d almost killed Jason at least ten times from the never-ending night terrors I still dealt with.I ended up spending time in a psychiatric ward for a few weeks after a psychotic breakdown within the first six months of my freedom.
I tried to leave Jason so many times, worried I would actually kill him one day, convincing myself that he deserved so much better than my psycho ass.But he always dragged me back, refusing to abandon me and reinforcing the love and devotion I felt I didn’t deserve.
I had hated myself for so long.
I hated that I had dragged him into this disgusting world I still felt trapped in from time to time, turning him into some vengeful guardian angel I couldn’t shake.I hated that he suffered from his own trauma, becoming a monster himself in order to save me from one.It was why things had eventually worked out so well.He was almost as fucked in the head as I was with everything he had to do to get me out, so tag-teaming the traffickers had been a practical solution that soothed both of our ragged beasts.
It was actually my therapist who finally suggested I join the tactical team Jason had to temporarily retire from to take care of me.I had no practical use for all these tactical combat skills, so it gave me the chance to exercise them for some good for once.Hunting down the traffickers gave me a new purpose and the ability to exact vengeance on several occasions.
Most of the time, we avoided partnering with the local police in the countries controlled by corruption.Those rescue missions allowed me to be as bloody as I needed to be.And I obviously left no survivors.
The past two years with the team had made a hell of a difference, but my therapist didn’t need to know the extent of my savagery.I had a feeling she suspected, though.
Vigilance was necessary in our trade.Since leaving the US, we’d been monitoring the aftereffects of an empire laid to waste.With so many of the big players out of the game, thanks to my last-minute massacre, only small gangs had emerged from their ashes.No one was sophisticated enough to take up the mantle like Darren had, and if anyone tried, we made sure they didn’t last very long.
With the release of all the data from the servers Jason had stolen and sent off to dozens of news stations across the country, the entire world was up in arms.Triguard went into bankruptcy almost overnight.Hundreds of people had been arrested over the course of several years, many of them politicians, CEOs, billionaires, judges, cops, FBI agents, and just about any demographic you could think of.And with so many people reporting on it, none of it could be swept under the rug anymore.Anyone connected to Darren in any way was met with one hell of a firestorm.Some didn’t even survive it.Darren’s corrupt Sheriff Hagan had apparently been killed in a massive gunfight when the authorities came to arrest him and his accomplice deputies.The fallout was a symphony of absolute chaos, and new developments were discovered daily.
Once we reached our airstrip, we exited the van to board the new Antonov 26B military transport plane the team had recently purchased after hitting the last of Darren’s vaults hidden in his various safe houses.Collecting ten million dollars from each vault in cash allowed us to fund our operations for the next two decades.
The flight back to Stuttgart was long, but we were all able to rest for a few hours until we finally landed.Camaro still wasn’t much of a fan of flying, but she had plenty of distractions as our team members kept her entertained and occupied.She was definitely an MVP among the team and had become a very valuable asset to our task force.