President Powell's POVThe television wakes before I do. The anchors’ voices are bright and practiced, a dark feed, a grainy clip of a dock at night, men moving boxes, a face turned toward the light.I stared at the TV screen, my blood running cold.Breaking news flashed across the bottom, and there, in grainy footage, was Dunne. My right-hand man, being led away in handcuffs.“No,” I whispered, my hand clenching the remote. “No, no, no.”The footage showed him at his house, surrounded by police.Next the video moved to children, our latest shipment. Fuck! Fuck!! Fuck!!!If Dunne was busted, it was only a matter of time before I got exposed.The camera lingered on their tear-stained faces before cutting back to Dunne.“This morning,” the anchor’s voice was grave, “authorities intercepted a human trafficking ring in Algeciras, Spain. Among those arrested was a man known to be Robert Dunne.”I felt sick. Physically ill. How could this have happened? How could he be so stupid?The footag
Last Updated : 2025-10-28 Read more