Of course. That’s how they picked victims. No one to miss them.
I looked at this kid. Sixteen. Addicted. Trafficked. No family. No hope. The system had failed her at every turn.
“Macy Rodriguez.”
“Macy, I’m going to help you. But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
She laughed. Bitter. “Trust a biker who just paid ten grand for me? Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m about to cut those zip ties. Give you my phone. Let you call whoever you want. And if you want to run, I won’t stop you.”
I pulled out my knife. She flinched.Continue reading…
