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He curses softly, pressing his palm against his forehead. Silence stretches between us.
“Alec, what does it mean?” I reach out again, taking his hand this time, offering what comfort I can.
“It means Guardian HQ can’t find us.” His voice barely carries, eyes pinching shut before flicking open again. “We’re on our own now.”
The monotonous hum of the van’s engine abruptly halts, the sudden silence reverberating in the cramped space. A guttural command barks from outside, and the rear doors swing open. Outside, it’s dark and a wash of yellow light illuminates the stark interior of the van. Callous hands seize us, their grip cold and unyielding.
Outside, we’re herded toward a monolithic structure, its stark concrete facade as unwelcoming as the guards. The building squats in the darkness, an ominous presence that screams:No Hope Here.
The air grows heavier, saturated with despair so palpable it chills my bones. Alec limps beside me, his movements uneven, each step a testament to his pain. His face is a grim mask of pain, and the moonlight casts harsh shadows that accentuate his injuries, making my heart twinge with each agonizing step he takes.
We wind up in a circular room where two wooden chairs face each other. The first guard forces Alec into one of the chairs, while the one holding me shoves me into the other chair.
A lone bulb flickers erratically overhead, casting eerie shadows on the mildew-ridden walls. Behind us, an iron door slams with a finality that echoes in the confined space. The metallic clang reverberates with a chilling reminder of our predicament. I steal a glance at Alec, his bruised and battered form a silent testament to our reality and the pressing need to escape.
Determined not to surrender to despair, I take a deep breath and gather my resolve. I refuse to let go of hope. Together, Alec and I will find a way out of this darkness, no matter the cost.
“Time for a chat.” One of the guards claps his hands together, then rolls up his sleeves.
Barely conscious, Alec struggles.
“Where are we?” I make the demand, not expecting an answer.
“The interrogation room.” The guard securing me to the chair responds as if strapping a prisoner to an interrogation chair is an everyday event. “You will answer our questions until we’re satisfied you’re telling the truth. If you don’t cooperate, we’ll get creative and use more persuasive methods to convince you.”
The room falls into an eerie silence as the guards step back, their intentions clear. Alec and I exchange a quick glance, a mix of determination and concern passing between us. Despite his weakened state, Alec’s eyes convey a defiance that mirrors my own.
As the guards take their positions, one of them steps forward, a wicked smile playing on his lips. He clears his throat, his voice dripping with sadistic satisfaction. “Let’s begin.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Alec
The guards go softon us, meaning I nurse new bruises, but no broken bones. They haven’t gone after my fingers, my kneecaps, or any bones. They adhere to the goal of early interrogation sessions, which isn’t to pull information from reluctant victims. It’s to literally soften them up with blunt trauma to the head, jaw, gut, kidney, balls, all the fun stuff. They do that to me, leaving Barbi to watch.
Thankfully.
After a couple of hours of working me over, they toss me unceremoniously into a damp cell. I barely register the icy chill of the concrete floor before Barbi’s dragged into the cell opposite mine, her frantic concern driving her to ignore her plight and focus instead on me.
I should be the one providing comfort to her.
Not the other way around.
“Alec?” Her voice is a raw whisper with a tremor of urgency threading through it. “It’s worse than I thought. It’s—monstrous.”
Her haunted eyes meet mine and I see it—the ghosts of what she witnessed etching deep lines in her face. She saw something before being shoved inside that van. I see it in her desperate urgency to save others.
Christ, she’s unstoppable.
I’ve seen the evidence of such horrors on numerous rescue missions. The aftermath of the traffickers’ vile acts is never easy to stomach, but it’s different seeing it reflected in her eyes.
The woman I’ve vowed to protect isn’t concerned about her own rescue. She’s worried about the women and children she saw at our prior location.
That’s the true strength of the woman I love.
“They’re using them. Doing horrible things…” Her voice breaks, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Girls. Women. You-you can’t let them use me.”
“They’re going to hurt you.” My heart stutters, the reality of her words seeps slowly into my pain-addled brain.