First day I've really been able to write all month. Thanks for your patience!

Hours later, she was jerked awake by the screech of brass rings being dragged across the wooden curtain rod as her captor yanked the bed drapes open. Blinded by the full brightness of the morning sun blazing through their east-facing windows, Bella raised her arms to cover her eyes.

"I changed my mind. You're coming with me. Get dressed. You have ten minutes."

"Yes, sir," she gasped, her thoughts whirring. They were leaving? Where to? Why?

Bella grabbed underwear and clothes, wriggling into a tight miniskirt and blouse. Then she scrambled over to the bathroom to brush her teeth and pull her hair into a ponytail. It still held onto the loose, ratty waves from the night before, but it looked okay tied up. On the other hand, her bare face was a problem. Afraid she would jab herself in the eye in her race against the clock, Bella kept her eye makeup simple, trusting that 'clean and neat' was a more acceptable look than 'drunk and stoned'.

Edward Cullen's begrudging approval was a relief. "You'll do. Let's go."

Bella scuffled along behind her master. He marched down the now-familiar hallway to the front door and out to his waiting vehicle. Feeling eyes on her back, Bella maintained her meek posture even after she was buckled in and obscured from view. Nobody stopped them, however, cognizant that they were still on Volturi land, Bella kept her eyes open and her mouth shut.

It didn't feel like an escape. Edward Cullen's movements were purposeful, not frantic. Hurried, but more like he was late for an appointment, not fleeing pursuit. He even paused to adjust his seat before shutting his door. The Volturi's valet was the recipient of some harsh words. Five minutes later, they were leaving the island, cruising across the bridge to West Palm Beach.

Bella chanced a glance at her partner's face. He was scowling. Before long, they pulled up to a familiar building. Bella recognized Delancy's Dodge Viper a few parking stalls further down. Still cloaked in her docile and mousey persona, Bella followed her owner into the boutique real estate office and took a seat in the waiting area near an older lady. The other client's hair was perfectly coiffed and dyed an unnatural peach color. She wore a summer-weight blue suit over a coral-colored silk blouse and pearls. Bella's scant attire earned a bitter glare and a snort of disapproval.

"What's wrong, ma'am? Jealous that you can't still show a little leg? I bet you were a feisty one when you were younger."

The female client drew herself up, sputtering in outrage at Edward Cullen's disrespectful tone. Bella didn't have to pretend to be shocked. What was he doing?

"Never mind. I think you've still got it. How would you feel about a quickie in the conference room while we're all waiting for Mr. Delancy? I'm sure my girl could learn a thing or two, watching an old pro like you."

"You're disgusting," she woman hissed, her skin flushing red beneath her powdered cheeks.

"Maybe I am. But you're tempted to call my bluff, aren't you? See if I would really give you a work out? I like you. I bet you spit and howl like an alleycat when your old man takes you from behind, don't you?"

"My. . Why, I. . . You. . ." she gasped, her mouth opening and closing spasmodically like a fish dropped on the dry deck of a boat.

Bella watched, wide-eyed, as the woman lost all semblance of self-control. She fumbled with her purse and fled the office with Mr. Cullen's cruel laughter echoing after her.

"What in the blazes is going on out here?" Malcolm Delancy cried, barging through the interior door. "Is that Mrs. Cope leaving? Where is she going? She had papers to sign!" He held a haphazard stack of documents in his hands.

"Don't worry. She'll be back. She had a hot flash and needed a few minutes to cool off. Now, where is that contractor you wanted me to meet?" Edward explained casually.

"God dammit. I guess I'll have to catch up with her later. Darrel just pulled up. He's an old friend. Trustworthy. Discreet. He'll walk through the property with us once we're mutual. You just need to tell him what equipment or accessories you want installed or upgraded, and he'll work up an itemized quote."

"Anything I want?" Mr. Cullen asked with an evil smirk.

Thinking back to the steel rings that the Volturi had jutting out of their forbidding stone walls, a chill clambered up Bella's spine and prickled her scalp. At the same time, she was excited to realize they were making another contact; one who, presumably, had a short list of 'special' clients with very particular requests. If Masen could get his hands on that list, they would have even more names to add to Tanya's database.

Delancy rode in Darrel's fancy pickup truck, while Masen and Bella followed them. Darrel had recently completed a project for another one of Delancy's clients and he was eager to show off his work to another prospective client. Bella just couldn't understand why Masen had dragged her along. Even so, she was grateful. Waking up alone in the Volturi stronghold would have been terrifying.

The house they arrived at was smaller than the one Cullen was buying, and not nearly as ostentatious. It did share one obvious trait; the property was surrounded by a high wall. Cameras were mounted at intervals, and the gate was a sturdy, reinforced security feature, not just a fancy architectural element.

Darrel showed them around the house which had just undergone a floor to ceiling renovation. On the surface, it was an exceedingly luxurious, but normal house. Then they reached the room. The air felt dead inside, as if that particular space had its own dedicated climate control system. There were no windows, and the soundproofing on the walls and ceilings gave it the muffled, cocoon-like feel of a recording booth.

The floor was unique. It didn't fit with the rest of the house at all. It was faux tile, soft underfoot, but plasticky and cheap looking. The entire floor sloped inward slightly, and there was a drain in the center of the room. Fixtures in the walls and ceilings, along with the specialized apparatus - she couldn't call the pieces furniture - and video equipment, spelled out the room's purpose very clearly. It was a modern torture chamber. And the owner was one of those videographers, self-proclaimed 'artists', whose favorite medium was sexual depravity.

The goosebumps that sprang up on Bella's skin did not go away quickly, even after they finished their tour and went back out to the sunshine. Mr. Cullen completed his business with Delancy and Darrel, making tentative plans to start work on his new house as soon as he acquired the title. He set a follow up appointment to meet Darrel at the contractor's office in two weeks, assuming that they would have opened escrow by that point and completed initial inspections. Bella guessed that the office visit would give him the opportunity to procure Darrel's client list.

When they left the property, Masen did not return to Palm Beach. Bella fidgeted with the bracelets around her wrists, twisting them around and around, as they zigzagged back and forth through the streets of West Palm Beach. Half an hour later, they left the city center and drove out to the airport. Had they been tailed? Masen hadn't used the silver kill switch. They could be under remote surveillance and not know it.

After more than an hour of silence, the noise and bustle of the airport crowds were overwhelming. Bella stuck close to her partner as they got lost in the sea of travelers. Moving with the confidence and self-assurance of somebody who belonged there, Masen opened a door next to a walled off retail space. There was a sign advertising a new restaurant set to open in two months, but behind the temporary wall, the space was dark and open. He pulled the door shut and bolted it behind him

"Did you bring everything I requested?" Masen asked the shadow that detached itself from a pillar near the back of the space.

"All that and more," came the reply.

Bella recognized the accented, slightly sibilant voice immediately. Peter had followed them to Florida.

"Senorita," he greeted her with a nod.

Bella gave him a cool smile in response. She hadn't forgotten his obnoxious behavior at the safehouse in Seattle.

There was a small office in the corner beside a rear access door. Behind the gray door, Bella found a room jam-packed with everything the CIA agent needed to hide out for days. He had a cot, a desk and chair, a microwave and a mini fridge. Crates were piled up against the back wall, labelled with innocuous contents, such as back splash tiles, grout and spackle. Peeking into one popped lid, Bella saw expensive devices padded between layers of dark gray foam. The gadgets matched items from the list they had submitted to Mahardy. Evidently, despite the bad blood between them, Masen did trust his former partner.

Masen was inspecting a briefcase on the desk. It contained all the counter-surveillance pieces they needed to ensure their room was actually free of bugs, cameras and other sensors. Masen tossed extra batteries into the suitcase and snapped it shut.

"My turn," Peter said with a sly smile. "Have you met any of my friends recently?"

"You have an interesting interpretation of the word 'friend'. I spent most of my time conversing with Hayato Inoue. Not his actual name, although I believe the name he gave had personal meaning to him. Five-foot-eight, about one-eighty, wore a gold ring with a symbol on his right pinky."

Masen was sketching as he spoke. Bella recognized the man who had left the feast with the tiny blonde girl. He was in his mid-forties, with thick black hair combed neatly to the left. The symbol on his ring was a winged creature.

"Hawk that flies above the well. Interesting name. And the symbol. . . maybe a family crest. I have a contact who can help me decipher it. Did he say anything useful?"

"He enjoys sailing and has the calluses to prove it. He declined wine at dinner. His jacket didn't fit perfectly, as if he had recently lost some weight. He claimed it was only his second time being invited to an event at the mansion. He was excited about the owner's promise to loan him a girl for the whole night free of charge; a thank you for a job he recently completed back home. He left the dining hall with a young blonde girl, prepubescent, frail. Possibly a fetishist. Is that enough to go on?"

"With the sketch and the ring, yes. I'll have him ID'ed by the morning. Same drop box?"

"Same. Oh, and do me a favor. Break that apart as much as possible. If he catches wind that somebody from the mansion is checking up on him, and it comes back to me, my cover is blown."

"My friend, I am discretion."

"You're a horse's ass."

"Tsk, tsk. Is that how you talk in front of a lady? Senorita, tell me, what can you add that the inestimable Agent Masen might have missed."

Having been deprived of her free speech for the better part of two days, it took Bella a moment to find her voice. She thought back to the previous night and the man who had monopolized Masen's attention for much of the dinner.

"This Mr. Inoue guy, he's ambidextrous."

"Really. . ." Peter said thoughtfully.

Masen was observing her with a half smile and one eyebrow raised. Perhaps he hadn't noticed it himself, but his memories of his dining partner's movements throughout the night evidently backed up her assertion.

"Yes. He spoke very little English, so he was drawing his boat to explain his hobby to Masen," she explained. "Partway through the sketch, he put his pencil down and reached for his water glass. When he picked the pencil up again to continue drawing, he used his left hand."

"Fascinating. And did he seem to handle his eating utensils with ease?" Peter continued.

"Not as well as Masen," Bella replied, fighting a smirk.

"Huh. You liked that, did you?" Masen asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"A few seconds earlier, I had been daydreaming about stabbing him in the hand. But your idea made a better impression," Bella laughed, remembering the way Richard had jumped.

"You have to out-asshole the assholes to be accepted as one of them."

"It seems to be working."

"We'll see. Peter, can I have a few minutes to speak with my partner privately?"

"I do need to get back to my day job. I'm sure some drunk gringo has clogged the toilets by the security checkpoint again," the CIA agent agreed, stepping into a pair of coveralls with the name 'Jesus' embroidered on the left breast. "Senorita, until we meet again," he said, giving her a small bow of farewell.

Bella smiled and gave him a little wave. She was relieved that Masen had asked Peter to leave them alone for a bit. She had been on the verge of pushing for a private debrief herself. There were so many questions crowding her brain.

"You remember what I said about invisibility? Latinos in the service industry are practically ghosts," Masen said, referring to Peter's cover ID.

"Kind of racist, isn't it?"

"Wearing a stereotype as a disguise isn't being racist. It's working with what you're given. Did you think it was sexist for Mahardy to select you as a stand in for a sex slave?"

"Well, no. . ."

"Of course not. You have the necessary parts. Peter has dark skin and an accent. If people underestimate him, they are fools. If he fails to take advantage of that, he's the fool."

"I know, but. . ."

"It bothers you," he stated, not asking, just confirming.

"A little."

"You'll get over it. Human sensibilities do more harm than good in our line of work. You need thick skin, Swan."

"No kidding. The last couple of days. . ." She shivered and rubbed her arms briskly.

"You're doing very well. Great, actually. I won't always be able to take you with me the way I did today, but when Malcolm offered me the chance to meet his contractor, I couldn't pass it up. And I certainly wasn't going to leave you there unguarded. Not without a plan or some form of safety precautions in place."

"Thanks. I was freaked out at first, but the alternative would have been way worse. By the way, what was up with that stunt at Delancy's office? Why were you so horrible to that woman?"

"So she would scram before any witnesses could see you, me, Delancy and that contractor together in the same place. Darrel pulled up ten minutes ahead of schedule. Delancy was running late with his last appointment. If he sat down to sign paperwork with that woman while the rest of us were all waiting together, it would have created a very awkward situation. There would have been no way to control what anyone else said or did. I certainly couldn't know what to expect from her. Covers can get stretched uncomfortably thin in situations like that."

"So you were a misogynistic prick to chase her away?"

"Pretty much. She's safer this way. Don't worry. She won't say a word."

"How can you know that? I would have gotten your information and reported it to the police!"

"You're you. She. . . well, she liked the attention, and that embarrassed her. She was jealous of you."

"No way," Bella argued in disbelief.

"Yes. She was a rock and roll groupie in her younger days. She had the logo of her favorite band from the seventies tattooed on her ankle, along with tally marks. Twelve if I counted correctly. She was a real party girl back in the day."

"Twelve what?"

"Great question. And she didn't disapprove of the way you were dressed. She was envious. When a woman checks out another woman so thoroughly, she's either gay or jealous. Did you see how she responded to me? Definitely not gay."

"You mean when she was on the verge of clawing your eyes out?"

"That is not what she was feeling. She ran away because she was tempted to call my bluff."

"Wow," Bella deadpanned. She couldn't tell if he was serious or joking.

"I know, right?"

"Right. New subject. These cameras? Will you be installing them in our room?"

"After I give it a thorough cleaning. I don't trust Mr. Volturi or his minions. And that Aro character is too wily by far."

"He likes you," Bella teased.

"Good. Maybe he'll let something slip by accident. Slimy little creep. How are you feeling so far?"

"It's all so surreal. I don't even know, really. And seeing Mary Alice like that. . . seeing what they've done to her. . . I feel like we're on the set of a horror movie. Like it can't possibly be real, you know?"

"Disassociation. Your mind is fighting facts that it thinks will pull it apart. Contradictions that it cannot assimilate. You believe that men are essentially good, but you're witnessing just how depraved they can be. Your mind doesn't want to accept it. You'll have to break through that barrier. There isn't one man in that room last night who wouldn't have willingly tormented or abused you given the chance. In your mind 'human' means 'good'. You're wrong. There is no such rule. Some humans are not good. They are evil, but they're still humans. They eat, they sleep, they laugh and cry. Many possess altruistic notions and feelings of love and affection toward other people. But they are still sick, parasitic monsters. There is no such thing as black and white in this world. That's why we use the law as our compass. These men are criminals according to the law of the land. It's our job to gather enough evidence for the legal boys to put them behind bars."

"Why do I feel like you're reading from a text book? Is that what you really think?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"When you said that there's no such thing as black and white," she explained.

"If you had to assign me a color, what would it be?"

"Well, not black."

"There's a long list of people who would argue the opposite. You say not black. But not purely white?"

"Whiter than most."

"That's where you're wrong, Miss Swan. I'm about as black as they come on this side of the line." His eyes were hard as flint, daring her to contradict him.

"The line?"

"Between right and wrong," he clarified.

"But you are right. You are good," Bella said decisively.

"We'll see." He pulled a bag of potato chips off the desk and started eating. "I need to send a report to Agent Filipovna. Help me add to this list."

He had changed the subject, and she didn't have the guts to change it back.

Masen queued up his phone to a draft email which contained a list of all the names of victims and perpetrators he recognized from the Volturi dinner party. There were several that Bella had missed, being unable to look around freely. Even so, she still recalled a handful of individuals that he had overlooked, and compared notes with Masen on the IDs of several other that she wasn't so sure about.

"Good. Next, I've been invited to play a round of poker tonight. It's going to be a much smaller crowd than last night."

"That's good," Bella said, relieved.

"Yes and no. It's easy to hide in a crowd. Much harder when you command a greater portion of the host's attention."

"So Mr. Volturi will be there tonight?"

"As I understand it. He's a big fan of poker. Texas Hold 'Em."

"I have no idea how to play cards," Bella said in a worried tone.

"That's not a problem. What will be difficult is that a smaller group encourages more. . . more. . . Let's just say, I wouldn't be surprised if we were to witness some difficult things tonight. And you'll see Edward Cullen acting in character. It may be very hard for you to witness."

"You aren't him," Bella said forcefully.

"I know that," Masen assured her, reaching into the bottom of the chip bag for the last broken pieces.

"But you're afraid I don't."

"I just don't want you to forget," Masen said, emptying the rest of the chip crumbs into his open mouth.

"I won't," she promised. "I know you."

Better than most, she amended in her own head.

A/N: Thank you for sharing your stories with me, the charities you support and the things you have seen and heard within your own communities. The news today that a famous spokesperson has plead guilty to possession of child pornography and been sentenced to 15 years of prison just underscores how prevalent these crimes are. For every person who derives pleasure from a child's suffering, there is an innocent life being destroyed, and behind it all there is a perpetrator cashing in on their pain. Children from broken homes, foster kids, runaways... these are the most vulnerable. One of my readers told me about a charity her family supports. If this story has struck a chord with you, please visit The SOLD Project's homepage. There are a multitude of charities that work to help victims recover from abuse and reintegrate into society. The SOLD Project goes one step further, identifying high risk groups of children in Thailand and funding programs that help them stay in school, raise awareness, address financial challenges, counsel families, and so much more. Their goal is prevention. After all, we all know that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. After learning about this group, I firmly believe that elements of their program can and should be benchmarked throughout the world. Sex traffickers prey on the weak. How can we help make children strong? Check out what they are doing. It might surprise you how easy (and cheap) it is to save a life!