Page 26

Isabel

I wake to the sound of metal scraping against metal, and a dull ache pulses behind my right temple. My mouth feels dry as paper, and my stomach lurches with every ragged breath. For a moment, confusion swamps me: Where am I? Why does it smell like rust and brine? Then I remember.

The van. Morris’s goons forcing me inside, the sickening jolt as we sped away from Club Greed. My heart thumps hard enough to hurt, fear snaking through my veins. For a split second, my vision swims, and I press my eyes shut, inhaling slowly. Stay calm, Isabel. Don’t lose it now.

I open my eyes again, blinking away the blur. The container I’m in is stiflingly hot. Dim light filters through cracked openings high overhead, revealing walls of corrugated steel. My nostrils flare at the mix of salt air and grease. The sharp tang of fish and diesel hangs in the background, mingling with an acrid odor I can’t place. The musty smell leads me to believe we could be near the ocean.

I try to shift, but my wrists are bound behind my back with plastic zip ties that cut into my skin every time I move. My ankles are similarly secured. My shoulders burn from the awkward angle I must maintain. Gritting my teeth, I scoot upright, ignoring the jabs of pain radiating from my arms.

That’s when I hear a moan—soft, pained—somewhere behind me. I twist around, neck craning in the dimness. Another figure is huddled in the gloom, near a set of metal bars that look welded together to form a caged partition at the far end of the container. My heart lunges. Someone else is here.

I swallow hard, trying to work moisture into my mouth. “Hello?” I call, voice trembling.

The figure stirs, turning toward me. A wash of faint light from a narrow gap overhead slides across her face, and I gasp. It’s Sophia—my brother Dean’s wife. Her hair is matted and she appears pissed off. Shock slams into me, stealing my breath. What is she doing here? Does Dean know she’s missing?

But of course, I’ve been so lost in my own infiltration of Club Greed, the kidnapping… there’s no telling how long she’s been trapped here. My chest constricts at the realization that we’re both caught in this twisted scheme, whatever it is.

“Isabel?” Sophia’s voice cracks, raw with anger. She blinks as though she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.

Tears prick my eyes, and I edge closer on my knees, ignoring the screaming protest of my joints. “Sophia,” I whisper. “God, are you okay?”

She tries to nod but ends up shaking her head, tears brimming. “They took me… hours ago. It’s all a blur.” Her voice trembles with relief, but also rage. “I-I thought I was alone.”

My stomach twists with sympathy, fear, and a fierce anger on her behalf. “We’re together now,” I say, fighting to keep my own voice steady. “We’ll find a way out, I promise.”

She inches forward, as far as her bindings allow, pressing closer to the makeshift cage’s bars. I see bruises on her arms, which only kindles my rage further. These monsters have been hurting her. “Do you know who they are?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

I swallow, flashes of the club swirling through my mind. “Morris Rolfe is one of them,” I say grimly. “He’s working with… someone else. They mentioned Lazarus Delgado. They said something about shipping me… shipping us. Something about revenge on Dean.” My voice cracks on my brother’s name.

Sophia’s face pales. “Lazarus Delgado,” she repeats. “There was some confrontation months ago, and Dean’s men took out Lazarus’s brother, I think. It was self-defense or something… But oh God, Lazarus must want revenge.”

A tremor runs down my spine. So, Lazarus Delgado wants to make Dean suffer. And apparently, kidnapping me and Sophia fits into that twisted plan.

I try to shift again, testing the plastic binding. It’s no good; every pull just tightens the zip ties. My wrists burn where the edges dig into my skin. “We have to stay strong,” I murmur. “Lincoln and Dean will find us.”

Sophia musters a tight smile. “I know Dean. He’s unstoppable when it comes to family. If he’s alive, if he knows I’m missing… he’ll move mountains.” She draws a shuddering breath, tears slipping down her cheeks. “And Lincoln, too, right? He’s ex-military. I’ve seen him do the impossible.”

My throat clogs with emotion. The mere mention of Lincoln conjures a rush of longing and fear. He has to be looking for me, I tell myself. He wouldn’t let me vanish without a fight. I cling to that hope like a lifeline.

Sophia and I share a fragile, desperate moment of quiet, tears blurring my vision. The container’s oppressive heat makes every breath feel like inhaling warm salt air. The steady lap of water against metal—somewhere outside—reaches my ears, confirming we’re likely near the docks. A wave of dizziness washes over me, but I steel myself. I can’t afford to faint now.

Suddenly, the door at the far end of the container clangs open, and a flood of harsh light spills in. I stiffen, heart pounding like a drum. Several figures step inside—Morris I recognize instantly, with his tailored suit and arrogant posture. Trey’s there too, along with Vera wearing that coldly smug expression. Then I see a new man, tall and broad-shouldered, clad in a crisp, expensive suit. His presence radiates power, a dangerous aura that crackles around him. Lazarus Delgado.

My stomach plummets. The man orchestrating everything. The man who wants revenge on Dean for murdering his brother. Lazarus sweeps a glance around the container, lips curving in a smirk when he sees Sophia and me. He steps closer, black dress shoes clanking on the metal floor.

“Well, well,” Lazarus says, voice low and accented with a hint of Italian. “Dean Maddox’s wife and sister, both in one place. Convenient.”

Fury simmers in my chest, but fear paralyzes my tongue. I force myself to breathe, to look him in the eye. “You won’t get away with this,” I manage, though my voice quivers.

He arches a brow, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Won’t I?” He gestures, and Vera leaps forward, unlatching a smaller gate that forms the caged partition. The men behind him push me roughly inside it—where Sophia already sits, ready for a fight. My knees slam against the floor. “There,” Lazarus says with a dismissive wave, “together, just as your family should be.”

Sophia scoots closer, tears spilling fresh at this blatant show of captivity. I press my side to hers, offering what little comfort I can in this horrifying moment. “Why don’t you let me out of this cage, Lazarus, and let’s really settle this.”

Lazarus laughs, loud and roughly. “I heard you were feisty.”

Morris steps up behind Lazarus, crossing his arms. His gaze flicks between me and Sophia. “Did I not say Dean would pay for messing with us?” he remarks to Lazarus. “Now we have the perfect leverage.”

I glare at Morris, chest tight with loathing. “You want money? We can get you anything—just let us go.”

Vera laughs, a shrill, mocking sound. “Money? Oh, sweet girl, this isn’t about money. It’s about vengeance.” She tosses her hair. “And Lazarus has a far more interesting plan.”

Sophia chokes back a sob, her hand finding mine in the gloom. I grip it, sweaty palm against sweaty palm. I see the terror in her eyes, and I know mine mirrors it.

Lazarus paces in front of the cage. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard that line: ‘You won’t get away with this, Lazarus.’ But somehow, I always do.” He leans forward, peering through the bars. “You two are going on a little trip. Back to the old country.”

The finality in his tone makes my stomach drop. “What do you mean?”

He smirks. “I have connections in Italy—let’s just say I traffic certain… goods. People are always in the market for new merchandise.” He fixes a cold gaze on me. “You’ll be loaded onto a cargo ship soon. And if, by some miracle, you survive the journey in a cramped container with scarce food and water, you’ll be sold. Over and over, in fact.”

The bottom falls out of my world. My throat constricts, the edges of my vision going blurry. Sex slavery, I realize with a jolt of nauseating horror. The threat is so staggering it nearly steals my breath.

Sophia shakes quietly beside me. I wrap an arm around her, best as I can with my wrists still bound, blinking back tears of my own. No. This can’t be happening. Dean, Lincoln, please find us, my mind screams.

“You’re insane,” I whisper, fury and despair clashing in my chest. “Dean will hunt you to the ends of the earth. He’ll never stop.”

Lazarus gives a dramatic sigh. “That’s the idea, my dear. He’ll kill half his men searching for you, and by the time he realizes you’re gone forever, it’ll already be too late.” He straightens, smoothing down his suit lapels. “And if you somehow live through the shipping container’s journey, well… enjoy your new life abroad.”

A sick, choking sound leaves my mouth. Stay strong, I remind myself, even as dread threatens to swallow me whole.

“I’ll kill you myself,” Sophia says with determination.

Lazarus laughs again, a sinister sound which causes chills to scurry up my spine. “I might buy you myself. You’re fun.” He steps closer, and Sophia tries to attack him but obviously can’t make it anywhere near him.

“Buy me and watch what happens.” Sophia’s anger rolls off her in waves.

Lazarus only smiles as Morris steps forward, rolling his shoulders. “We can always expedite the process if they prove too troublesome,” he says, flicking a disdainful glance our way. “Wouldn’t be the first time we parted with cargo early.”

My blood boils, and for a split second, I lunge at the bars, ignoring the pain in my bound wrists. “You monsters,” I spit, voice ragged. “Lincoln will tear this place apart. And Dean—he won’t rest until you’re all six feet under.”

Lazarus chuckles, genuinely amused. “Such spirit. Shame it’ll be wasted on some foreign buyer who doesn’t appreciate your fire.” He gestures to Vera and Trey. “Ensure they’re locked in. We’ll move the container soon.”

Vera nods, her gaze sliding across me with cold superiority. “Of course,” she murmurs, stepping toward the container door. She fiddles with a heavy padlock, securing the cage door from the outside.

Trey smirks, trailing a finger along the metal bars. “Such a pity,” he says softly. “I thought we might have had some fun with you two, but Lazarus’s plan is more… profitable.”

Sophia releases a shuddering breath. “Fuck you,” she spits out.

They ignore her, turning to file out of the container. Morris’s men remain near the threshold, big arms crossed, eyes cold. Lazarus turns once more, offering a mocking bow. “ Arrivederci ,” he says, then vanishes through the door with a scrape of metal, leaving behind only the oppressive stench of diesel and the clang of our desperate hopes caving in.

I slump onto the floor, the ridged metal biting into my knees. My body shakes uncontrollably, rage and terror battling for space in my head. Sophia half-collapses against me, crying softly.

“Iz,” she mumbles between breaths. “What do we do? We have to do something.”

Gently, I rest my forehead against hers. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” I say, though my voice wavers. “Dean, Lincoln… they’ll find us. They have to.”

She squeezes me tighter. “There’s always something we can do.” But her gaze flicks to the towering walls of the container, the heavy bars, the locked steel door. “I just… don’t know what.”

I tighten my hold, pulling her closer. “We’ll fight,” I promise, though the practical side of me wonders how. Bound wrists, two of us against armed men, locked inside a shipping container. Our chances look grim.

Yet in the dim gloom, we cling to each other, sharing warmth, tears, and the faint flicker of hope. Lincoln will come, I repeat in my head like a mantra. Dean will come. They won’t let us vanish, not like this. My mind conjures images of Lincoln’s determined face, of Dean’s fierce protectiveness, and for a moment, the panic recedes enough to let me think.

I rub my zip-tied wrists against the cage bars, testing if friction can wear them down. The plastic stings against my skin, but I keep at it, fueled by the slightest chance that maybe we can free ourselves. Meanwhile, Sophia tries to shift her position for comfort, wincing at the bruises on her thighs and arms. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out at the injustice.

Time crawls. The container’s heat intensifies, each breath more labored. We’re both dehydrated, fear gnawing at our insides. Sophia falls into an exhausted stupor for a while, head lolling against my shoulder, but I can’t sleep—my nerves remain too frayed.

Eventually, the container door creaks open again, and my heart leaps with dread, imagining a final push to load us onto a ship. But it’s just one of Morris’s men—alone—tossing a couple of water bottles onto the floor near the cage. Neither of us can pick them up with our hands bound, but maybe we can maneuver them if we’re careful. The man sneers, unimpressed by our plight, then leaves as quickly as he arrived.

We manage to tip one bottle with our feet, rolling it enough that I can press the opening to my lips, sipping water in messy gulps. Sophia does the same. It’s humiliating, doing it like animals, but we have no choice.

The heavy hush returns. Outside, the dull clang of metal on metal suggests forklift trucks or cranes moving cargo around. The occasional distant shout drifts in, men working on the docks. My skin crawls with the knowledge that we’re so close to civilization—there are probably people walking around out there, oblivious to the hell inside this container.

“We’ll get out of this,” I whisper, though the quiver in my voice betrays my own doubts.

She nods. “I know we will.”

“I’ll keep trying to see if I can wear these ties down. Maybe break them,” I breathe, tears pricking my own eyes. “It’s not working well, but who knows, crazier things have happened.”

Sophia glances around and then spots a jagged piece of metal closer to her than me. “I’ll try this.” She rubs her zip ties against the metal.

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes into an eternity of suffocating dread. The inevitability of a ship departure weighs on my mind, the horrifying reality of what Lazarus Delgado plans for us looming like a black storm cloud.

Yet in the midst of that despair, I cling to one shining thread: Lincoln and Dean. I replay every memory of their bravery, their determination. Dean, unstoppable when someone threatens his family. Lincoln, ex-military and unwavering in his protectiveness. They’ll come for us, I tell myself. They must.

I glance at Sophia as she keeps trying to break free. “We can’t give up,” she murmurs, voice determined. “Dean always told me… never lose hope.”

My own tears slip free, dripping onto the container floor. “He’s right. We won’t.”

“Got it,” Sophia declares triumphantly as she is able to break free from her ties. “Let me do yours,” she whispers, and my smile widens at the thought of breaking free.