Chapter 270

Michael Stone crouched by the wall, pretending to tie his shoelaces while straining his ears. The sound of a child's muffled sobs from the alley made his chest tighten.

"What are you doing here, sir?"

A woman's voice startled him from behind. Michael whipped his head around to see a heavily pregnant woman eyeing him warily, a bottle of soy sauce in her hand and beads of sweat on her forehead.

"Just passing through," Michael muttered, tugging his cap lower over his face.

Margaret Lee narrowed her eyes. She recognized him—last year at the community meeting, she'd seen him beat a local troublemaker to a pulp. The memory still sent chills down her spine.

"This is my doorstep," Margaret said, straightening her posture. "Who are you looking for?"

Michael finally noticed her swollen belly. A flash of recognition hit him—wasn't she Charles Clark's ex? The girl who'd jumped into the river over a dowry dispute.

"Wrong house," he forced a chuckle before turning away. His vest clung to his back, soaked with sweat.

Margaret watched him leave, suspicion gnawing at her. Something felt off. She touched her stomach and hurried inside.

Three hours later.

"Found them! In the cellar!" An officer's shout shattered the silence.

An elderly woman clutched her grandson, weeping uncontrollably. The chubby boy, his face still sticky with candy, buried himself in her arms.

"My sweet boy..."

Michael wiped his brow, exhaling in relief as three children and a young woman were led out to safety.

"Wrap it up!"

By the time he got home, it was past two in the afternoon. Emily Johnson was hanging laundry in the yard and quickly set down the clothesline when she saw him.

"Starving, aren't you?" She dashed into the kitchen. "I saved you some jelly noodles."

Michael collapsed into a bamboo chair, gulping down half a pitcher of iced tea. Emily brought out the chilled dish, fanning him gently as he devoured it.

"Did you find them all?"

"Yeah." He swallowed another bite. "Three kids and a young woman hidden in the cellar."

Emily's face suddenly paled. "Was there an old woman too?"

Michael froze mid-bite. "How did you know?"

"Amy almost—" Emily lowered her voice, recounting Amy Bright's near-miss.

Michael's bowl nearly slipped from his grasp. He shot to his feet before forcing himself back down.

"Three suspects," he said tightly. "An old woman, a middle-aged man, and a young guy."

Emily clenched her fists. "We have to follow the trail and take down this trafficking ring for good."

Outside, cicadas screeched under the scorching June sun. Watching the worry etched on his wife's face, Michael silently vowed to protect their family at all costs.