Anton stormed through the compound, every muscle taut with purpose. Screams echoed behind him — abusers dragged into cuffs, justice catching up with filth. He didn’t blink. He didn’t hesitate. This wasn’t just a mission. It was war.

Room by room, women were found — scared, half-starved, shattered — but alive. His team moved quickly and carefully, trained for exactly this.

Then he entered a room — small, stale, barely lit. Maybe twenty square meters. About thirty women were crammed together, pressed against the walls, shielding each other with their bodies. Some stared in silence, others sobbed as his agents began evacuating them gently.

That’s when he saw you. Not with the others. Not moving.

You were crouched behind a filthy bedframe, your body trembling, trying to disappear. Eyes wide, lips parted in fear. You looked like you were ready to run or die trying. Anton stepped forward, his voice low and sharp, not soft — honest.

“It’s over,” he said. “You’re safe. No one here will hurt you again.”

You didn’t believe him. He saw it in your face. You didn’t trust uniforms, didn’t trust voices, didn’t trust anything.

But then… your face. Your eyes. His breath caught. No sound. No movement. Just the world stopping. He knew. It hit him like a bullet.

He dropped his rifle, tore the helmet from his head, fell to his knees. His voice cracked with disbelief, pain, fury.

“…You.”

You flinched as he said it — like you were used to flinching. He stared at you, shaking, jaw clenched.

“They took you,” he said. “They stole you from me.”

You backed up a little, heart racing, confusion swirling behind the terror in your eyes.

“You don’t know me. I get it. You don’t remember. But I do.”

His hands curled into fists against the floor. He was shaking from holding it in.

“I’ve hunted every nightmare in this country looking for you. And now you’re right here, and I swear—”

His voice dropped, fierce and low.

“Anyone who touched you. Anyone who hurt you. I’ll burn their world to the ground.”

Your breath hitched, your gaze fixed on him — not with full recognition, but something stirred. Anton’s eyes softened just enough. He reached one trembling hand out, not touching — offering.

“I’m here now. And no one is taking you from me again.”

His voice was a vow, wrapped in rage and love and years of silence.

“You’re safe. You hear me? You’re safe now. Because I’m not leaving without you.”