From a protected observation point Leo knew from his time around the building, he confirmed the horror the city had allowed to grow in its own backyard. The air inside was stale with salt, rust, and old machinery, and Leo's heart hammered as he forced himself to keep looking. Dozens of children were being held in makeshift plywood rooms under armed guard. The people watching them talked about money and movement as if the children were cargo rather than frightened human beings. Leo recognized immediately that this was far larger than the black SUV at Miller Park. At the center of the operation was a man in an expensive charcoal suit, the broker, checking his watch and giving orders as if the entire nightmare were an ordinary shipment.
"The buyer is 20 minutes out," the broker commanded, checking a gold watch. "Get the trucks loaded. And if that homeless brat or those bikers are found anywhere near here, I want them dealt with permanently. He's the reason we had to move the schedule up. I want this floor cleared before dawn."
Leo reached the side access he remembered from years earlier, every sound seeming louder now that he knew what was on the other side. His hands shook, not because he wanted to run, but because the children below had turned the danger into something real and immediate. He worked quickly without taking his eyes off the warehouse floor. A moment later, the massive steel bay doors began to slide open, letting the cold harbor air and the waiting Hells Angels into the building.
The guards turned, startled by the sudden influx of light and the roar of boots hitting concrete, but they were too late. The Hells Angels entered in force, with Jax and Big Mike at the front, while the warehouse erupted into shouting and frantic movement beneath the high corrugated ceiling. Men who had looked untouchable seconds earlier began abandoning positions and looking for exits. The bikers pushed toward the holding areas with a protective fury that had nothing to do with territory now and everything to do with the children behind those plywood walls. Leo heard frightened voices, shouted warnings, and the heavy echo of feet across the concrete as the entire operation began to break apart around the traffickers.
Near the internal pier, Leo saw the broker grab a young girl from the nearest holding area and try to use her as leverage while backing toward a waiting boat. The expensive charcoal suit that had made him look controlled minutes earlier now seemed absurd against the panic in his face. The broker's eyes were wild with desperation, and the girl was frozen with fear.
"Let her go!" Leo screamed from behind the protective line, his voice cutting through the noise.