CHAPTER LXXII
Vengeance Beneath the Stars
My capable team—each of them scarred by battle but unshaken in spirit—refused to retreat. Even in the face of exhaustion, injury, and chaos, they stood tall, exchanging fire with a ferocity that only comes from righteousness. They fought like warriors born not of training, but of conviction. And one by one, the enemies began to fall.
Finally, we reached a locked chamber at the far end of the ship. The stench of blood, sweat, and fear lingered in the air. When we broke through the doors, our breaths caught in our throats.
Inside, packed into the dimly lit room, were girls—too many to count at first glance. Some were barely teenagers. Most sat silently, huddled together, hollow-eyed and trembling, as if their souls had been stripped away. Others looked up at us with tentative hope—fragile, like glass on the edge of shattering.
My heart broke at the sight.
They had waited in silence for someone… anyone… to come for them. And we had come. Not as saviors, but as justice.
"Don't be afraid," I said gently, kneeling beside one of the girls. "We're here to take you home."
One by one, we helped them up. Some collapsed into our arms. Some whispered "thank you" through their tears. We formed protective circles around them, guarding them like sacred flames as we led them toward freedom.
It felt like we were finally breathing again—like maybe, just maybe, we were winning.
But hope has sharp edges. And sometimes, victory is only the calm before another storm.
A voice crackled through my earpiece.
"Ma'am… there's another ship."
I froze.
"It's massive. A cargo vessel. They're escaping. Over 200 of them—men connected to this gang. We believe they're heading out to international waters."
My fingers curled into fists.
They were running. Cowards, dragging their darkness with them, hoping to vanish into the ocean's horizon — unseen, unpunished.
I straightened up, my expression hardening like steel. "We stop them. Now."
I turned to my team. "Get the girls to safety. I'm going after them."
Without hesitation, I boarded a small tactical speedboat with a few of my most trusted officers. The night sky loomed above, stars barely visible through the storm of rage building inside me. The ocean roared around us, as if sensing what was coming.
Beside me sat a heavy black bag. Inside it—explosives. Enough to destroy that floating hell.
I gripped the edge of the boat as we sped through the water, my eyes locked on the distant lights of the cargo ship. It looked like a ghost, sailing slow and proud across the ink-dark sea — unaware that death was coming for it.
Each second brought us closer.
Closer to justice.
Closer to the edge.
I thought of the girls, of every tear they had shed, of every moment their cries had been ignored. I thought of Mon… of the promises I had made. Of the life I still dreamed of living. And I realized something:
If I had to give up my life to end this cycle… I would.
This mission wasn't about heroism. It was about closing the door to darkness.
Forever.
As the enemy ship loomed large before us, silhouetted against the night, I whispered to myself:
"This ends tonight."
And with fire in my blood, and vengeance in my heart, I rose — ready to burn every last monster who dared to harm the innocent.
The Goodbye That Broke Me
With trembling hands and a fire blazing in my chest, I hurled the bomb toward the enemy ship. And in perfect synchrony, my team—scattered across different points of the surrounding waters—launched explosives from every side.
A deafening roar shattered the silence of the sea.
The night sky lit up in flames as the massive vessel exploded into a blaze of fire and smoke, a monstrous scream echoing from within as steel bent and shattered under the fury of justice. The shockwave tossed our smaller boat like a toy on angry waves. I felt the heat lick my skin. A sharp sting shot through my body as shrapnel grazed my arm and ribs. Some of my teammates were injured too, but none of us cried out.
Because we saw it.
The ship—once the symbol of their cruel empire—was taking in water rapidly. Black smoke billowed, metal groaned, and then it began to sink, consumed by the very ocean that had once hidden its sins. It disappeared beneath the waves, slowly… almost poetically. And with it, the darkness began to drown.
Then everything went black.
---
When I opened my eyes, the world was soft. White ceilings. The faint beeping of monitors. A sterile hospital room wrapped around me like a cocoon I didn't remember crawling into.
And then—her.
Mon.
She was sitting right beside me, her fingers gently tracing mine, her eyes swollen from crying but glowing with quiet relief. As soon as she saw me awake, she leaned forward and whispered, "Sam… it's over. Everything's okay now. We're safe."
But I shook my head slowly, voice hoarse. "No, Mon… not yet. There's still too much unfinished inside me."
Her face dropped slightly, like she'd known I would say that, but had still prayed I wouldn't.
---
A week passed. I recovered physically—but inside, I was crumbling.
I handed in my resignation. There was no ceremony, no goodbyes. Just silence.
I boarded a flight to America and disappeared into a world where no one knew my name. I needed to vanish from the version of me that had become a soldier, a fighter, a symbol. Because behind that mask was a woman who couldn't sleep, who couldn't breathe without hearing Hannah's cries, or remembering the way I failed her. The trauma of what she had suffered—what I had seen—burned holes in me too deep for any medal or justice to fill.
Eventually, I gave in to the numbness. I started using drugs—whatever I could find to drown the memories, to escape the nights.
And slowly… I began to forget.
Not everything.
Just Hannah.
Just Mon's tears.
Just the screams I never saved.
I forgot everything except the words I used to write in my diary—the only pieces of me I could still hold on to.
---
The Goodbye: A Memory Carved in Firelight
The night before I left for America, Mon came to see me one last time.
We stood beneath a sky that was weeping stars. A gentle wind rustled the trees around us. She didn't speak at first—just stood there, her eyes locked on mine, both of us knowing this was the end of something we could never name properly.
"I'm not ready to lose you again," she whispered, voice trembling.
I reached out, cupping her face with both hands. "You're not losing me, Mon. I'm already lost."
She pressed her forehead to mine, tears slipping onto my cheeks, and whispered, "Then let me be the one to find you."
Her arms wrapped around my waist, and mine pulled her close. That moment… it was everything we had ever been. All the pain, all the waiting, all the quiet love that had never been spoken aloud.
"I don't know who I am without the fight," I told her, my voice cracking. "But when I close my eyes… I see you."
"And when I dream," she said, "I still wake up reaching for your hand."
We kissed—soft, lingering, desperate. The kind of kiss you only share once in a lifetime. The kind that tears you open and fills you with both hope and devastation. And then, slowly, I pulled away.
I pressed my lips to her forehead and whispered, "Wait for me… but don't stop living. You deserve the sun, Mon. Don't follow me into the shadows."
Her fingers gripped mine like they'd never let go, but she nodded.
"I love you, Sam."
My breath hitched.
"I love you more than I was ever allowed to show."
And then I walked away.
Every step felt like my bones were breaking.
But I never looked back.
Because if I had… I wouldn't have been able to leave.
To be continue....