Page 13 of Cowboy (Fury Vipers MC: Dublin Chapter #4)

CAOIMHE

T he shipping container doors swing open, flooding the dark space with blinding light. I squint, trying to shield my eyes and Saoirse's face. Rough hands grab us and drag us out into what looks like a private airfield, small, quiet, and only a few planes are here.

"Move," a gruff voice orders, as he shoves us toward a waiting jet.

My heart races as I realize we're about to be taken even further from home. I tighten my grip on Saoirse's hand, determined not to let her go.

As we're herded onto the plane, I catch sight of our captor for the first time, a well-dressed man with cold, calculating eyes. He looks us over like we're cattle at an auction.

"Acceptable," he says with a nod. "Get them cleaned up and ready. We leave in thirty minutes."

I'm pushed into a small bathroom with Saoirse, where we’re told to wash up quickly. As I help the terrified little girl clean her face, my mind races. This may be our last chance to escape before we're taken out of the country.

But how? We're outnumbered and outgunned. And even if we could somehow overpower our captors, where would we go?

As I debate our options, the bathroom door flies open. "Time's up," a guard barks. "Let's go."

He grabs Saoirse roughly by the arm. Without thinking, I lunge at him. "Don't touch her!"

Pain explodes in my head as he backhands me, sending me sprawling. Through the ringing in my ears, I hear Saoirse's frightened cries.

"That was stupid," the guard growls, hauling me to my feet. "Do it again and the kid pays the price. Understand?"

I nod, tasting blood. As he shoves us toward the plane, I catch Saoirse's eye and give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. I have to stay strong, for her sake if nothing else.

We're strapped into seats near the back of the luxurious jet. As the engines roar to life, I close my eyes, fighting back tears of despair. With each passing second, we're being taken further from any hope of rescue.

I think of Ciarán, and I wonder if he's looking for me. Does he even know I've been taken? Or does he think I've disappeared on my own again?

The plane lifts off. I pull Saoirse close, whispering words of comfort I don't believe myself. I won’t let anyone harm her. I’d rather die than allow them to hurt her.

The plane ride feels endless. I drift in and out of consciousness, my body aching from the abuse I've endured. Saoirse remains curled against me, her small body trembling with fear.

Eventually, I feel the plane begin its descent. My stomach churns with dread as I contemplate the horrors that await us at our destination.

As we land, I catch snippets of conversation between our captors.

"The buyer is waiting."

"He’s our high-profile client."

"He’ll be delighted with the special merchandise."

My blood runs cold. I pull Saoirse close and whisper in her ear, "Whatever happens, stay close to me. I won't let them hurt you."

The plane door opens, and we're roughly pulled to our feet.

As we're led down the steps, I blink in the bright sunlight. We seem to be at another private airfield, it’s small, with only little planes compared to the huge jets that are at normal airports.

The air is warm and humid, we must be somewhere tropical.

A sleek black SUV waits on the tarmac. A man in an expensive suit steps out, his eyes cold as he surveys us.

"These are the ones?" he asks, his accent crisp and British.

Our captor nods. "As requested. The little girl is as specified."

I feel sick as I realize what they're implying. I tighten my grip on Saoirse's hand.

The British man's gaze lingers on me. "And what happened to this one?"

"She's caused some trouble, but nothing a firm hand can't correct."

The man smiles, and it's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen. "Excellent. Load them up. The client is eager to inspect his new acquisitions."

Once again, we’re pulled and dragged toward the SUV. The man in the expensive suit opens the trunk of the car and pulls out duffel bags. I have a fairly good idea what’s inside of them, money, a payment for Saoirse and I.

Monsters. All of them. They’re disgusting bastards.

It doesn’t take long for the men to push us into the SUV. Thankfully, Saoirse has stuck to my side. I have no idea where we are, but I have a feeling it’s somewhere far, far away from Dublin.

As we drive down winding roads, I try to take in as much of our surroundings as possible. The humid air and sandy beaches lets me know we’re south of the equator. Where, exactly, I can’t be sure.

The SUV finally pulls up to a large, gated estate.

My heart sinks as I realize this is likely our final destination.

As we're pulled from the vehicle, I catch sight of a man waiting on the front steps of the mansion.

He's older, probably in his sixties, with silver hair and an air of authority that makes my skin crawl.

"Ah, excellent," he says, his eyes roving over us hungrily. "You've done well, Mr. Thompson."

The British man from the airfield nods. "As always, sir. I trust you'll find them satisfactory."

The older man's gaze lingers on Saoirse, and I feel a surge of protective rage. I step slightly in front of her, shielding her from his view.

His eyes narrow as he notices my movement. "This one seems... spirited," he says, his tone disapproving.

"Nothing that can't be broken, sir," Mr. Thompson assures him. "She'll learn her place quickly enough."

The older man nods then waves a hand dismissively. "Take them to the holding area. I'll inspect them more thoroughly later."

As we're led away, I catch a glimpse of other women and children on the grounds, all looking terrified and broken. My mind races, trying to figure out a way to escape. I don’t want Saoirse to be like this.

But as we're locked in a small, windowless room, despair threatens to overwhelm me. We're trapped, far from home, with no way to call for help. I sink to the floor, pulling Saoirse into my arms.

"Are we going to die?" she whispers, her voice trembling.

I swallow hard, fighting back tears. "No, sweetheart," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. "We're going to get out of here. I promise."

As Saoirse drifts into an uneasy sleep, I stare at the locked door, my mind whirling. I have to find a way out. Not just for me, but for Saoirse and all the others trapped here.

I close my eyes, exhaustion taking over me. I need sleep to recover, but I can’t. I need to be alert in case someone comes for Saoirse.

* * *

I’m awoken by the door opening. Instantly, I’m on edge. I tighten my arms around Saoirse, who’s fast asleep in my arms.

The old man enters the room, his gaze assessing as he takes us both in. “You are protective of the child,” he comments. “Why?”

“She’s a child,” I return. “Shouldn’t we all be protective of children?”

He watches me for a moment before nodding. “I agree, we should. My wife and I were never able to conceive. She’s always dreamed of being a mother. Now is her time.”

I frown. “What?” I ask, my words hoarse.

“I see that you thought she was here for a nefarious reason,” he says, not in a questioning way, but I still nod. “You are wrong. My wife wants children and we have tried every avenue to no avail. I couldn’t let her suffer any longer.”

“So you bought one?” I ask, horrified. “What about her mam?”

The old man's expression darkens. "Her mother sold her to us. She was more than happy to be rid of the child for the right price."

I feel sick at his words. How could anyone sell their own child? But I know it happens all too often in desperate situations.

"And what about me?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. "Why am I here?"

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "You, my dear, are here for me. You see, my wife had the need to be a mother. I, on the other hand, have other needs. Ones she cannot fulfill."

A chill runs down my spine at his words. I tighten my hold on Saoirse, determined to protect her no matter what.

"I won't let you hurt her," I say firmly.

The old man laughs. "Hurt her? My dear, we plan to give her a life of luxury. She'll want for nothing."

"Except her freedom," I retort.

His eyes narrow. "Freedom is overrated. Here, she'll be safe, protected. And you... well, you'll learn your place soon enough."

With that, he turns and leaves, the door locking behind him with a final-sounding click.

I look down at Saoirse's sleeping face, my heart breaking for her. I have to find a way out. I don’t want to become the man’s whore.

As I sit there, holding Saoirse close, I try to formulate a plan. But exhaustion and fear cloud my thinking. I close my eyes, just for a moment, telling myself I'll only rest for a little while.

But when I open them again, sunlight is streaming through a small window high up on the wall. I must have slept for hours.

Saoirse stirs in my arms, her eyes wide with fear as she remembers where we are. "Caoimhe?" she whimpers.

"I'm here, sweetheart," I assure her, smoothing her hair. "It's going to be okay."

Just then, the door opens. A woman enters, carrying a tray of food. She's older, probably in her fifties, with a kind face that doesn't match our surroundings.

"Good morning," she says softly. "I've brought you some breakfast."

I eye her warily, not sure if we can trust her. But Saoirse's stomach growls audibly, and I realize how long it's been since we've eaten.

The woman sets the tray down and steps back. "Please, eat. You need your strength."

As Saoirse eagerly reaches for a piece of toast, I study the woman. "Who are you?" I ask.

She hesitates, glancing toward the door. "My name is Maria. I... I work here."

"By choice?" I press.

Maria's eyes fill with tears. "We all make choices, dear. Sometimes they're not good ones."

I nod, understanding what she means.

"Are you... like us?" I ask hesitantly.

Maria's eyes dart to the door again. "I was, once," she says softly. "But that was a long time ago. Now... now I just try to make things easier for others when I can."

I nod, understanding. Maria might not be able to help us escape, but she could be a valuable source of information.

"Can you tell us anything about this place?" I ask, keeping my voice low. "Where are we? How many others are there?"

Maria shakes her head. "I shouldn't say too much. They... they don't like us talking to the new ones."

But I can see the conflict in her eyes. She wants to help, even if she's afraid.

"Please," I press. "Anything you can tell us could help. We need to get out of here."

Maria glances at Saoirse, who's watching our exchange with wide, frightened eyes. Something in the little girl's face seems to soften Maria's resolve.

"We're on a private island," she whispers. "Somewhere in the Caribbean, I think. There are... There are others. Maybe twenty or thirty in total. Mostly women and children."

“Have you all been taken like we have?”

She nods. “All the women have…The children—” she pauses, looking back at the door before speaking again. “They were born here.”

I swallow hard, realizing that the women have been raped and forced to carry children.

"Is there any way off the island?" I ask.

Maria shakes her head. "The only way on or off is by boat or plane. And they're heavily guarded."

I nod, trying to process this information. An island makes escape even more difficult, but not impossible. There must be a way.

"Thank you," I say to Maria. "For the food, and for talking to us."

She gives me a sad smile. "I wish I could do more. Just... be careful. And whatever you do, don't anger Mr. Blackwood. He's not as kind as he pretends to be."

With that ominous warning, Maria hurries out of the room, leaving Saoirse and I alone once again.

I pull Saoirse close, my mind racing. We're on an island, surrounded by water and guards. Escape seems almost impossible. But I refuse to give up hope. For Saoirse's sake, and for my own, I have to find a way out of this nightmare.

As we finish our breakfast, I try to formulate a plan. I know it’ll take time, but I’m determined to escape.

I look down at Saoirse, who's watching me with trust in her eyes. "We're going to get out of here," I promise her. "No matter what it takes."

I just hope I can keep that promise.