Page 18 of The Shape of my Scar (The Unbroken #1)

T he car ride was silent.

Lirian didn’t say a word when Thane climbed in.

He could see something had happened. It was in the hands held in tight fists, the lines of strain around Thane’s mouth and eyes.

He just handed over a bottle of water and tapped the edge of his comms unit.

Bugs these days were smaller than fingernails.

As usual, they didn’t talk, not until they were back at the flat.

Thane noticed the way Lirian kept glancing over, like he wanted to say something.

The neighbourhood had been chosen carefully.

Cracked pavements, rusted gates, bins overturned in alleys that smelled of piss and oil.

But it served its purpose, hiding the predators in plain sight.

They parked two blocks over and walked the rest of the way to the crumbling eighteenth-century workhouse turned apartment building.

They took the stairs two at a time to the third floor.

Before they entered, Lirian stopped him with a hand on his arm. This had become a routine. He crouched down, scanned Thane’s boots, belt, and collar. Then he plucked out two devices —one no bigger than a flake of pepper from Thane’s shoe tread, another clipped to the inside of his belt buckle.

Thane hadn’t even noticed them.

Lips tight, Lirian disposed of both quickly. Another routine sweep. Another day done.

Inside, the apartment smelled of sweat, old takeout, and the metallic tang of blood.

Zel was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped behind his head, half-watching the flickering TV with hooded eyes.

Maro was shirtless, drenched in sweat, pacing like a caged lion between push-ups and pull-ups on the bar bolted to the ceiling beam.

Thane didn’t say a word.

He walked straight past the others, knuckles clenched so tight his nails carved crescents into his palms. Then, crack , his fist slammed into the plaster wall. The drywall gave with a thud , flakes drifting to the scuffed laminate floor.

Zel raised a brow and muttered, “There goes our security deposit.”

Thane didn’t respond. He stood there, hands braced on either side of the crater in the wall, shoulders rising and falling like a man forcing himself to breathe through a small straw. His voice came out low, sandpaper-rough with tension.

“When can we move on them? Tell me you have something.”

Silence.

“I don’t know if I can do this much longer,” he growled, barely under control. “Today…they brought a kid. She was so small. As tiny as…”

He didn’t have to finish. They all knew who he was thinking about.

His fists flexed against the wall again.

“That bitch, Trish…she sucked me off like a hooker. I overheard her say something about the time not being right, but she cut the call when she spotted me. She is fucking me to distract me. Something is…strange…I just can’t figure it out.

And later, she talked to that little girl like she was gonna be adopted.

All soft and gentle.” His jaw clenched so hard his teeth audibly ground. “She almost had me almost fooled.”

“What a sick fuck,” Maro spat, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. “I can’t wait to put a bullet in her brain.” He stalked to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, chugging half before slamming it down.

Thane turned to face them. His eyes looked bruised, like he hadn’t slept in days. He hadn’t since this nightmare began.

Thane sat at the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. The silence had dragged for minutes, and it was Lirian who finally broke it.

“They’re not local anymore.”

They had managed to plant a few bugs strategically.

Zel looked up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I traced the ferry manifest,” Lirian said, already at his laptop, fingers flying across the keys.

“There have been suspicious small shipments, off-schedule crossings. This one came in through the Mersey last week. It was a private vessel flagged for maintenance, no customs check. The trail was tricky, but I pulled it.”

He flicked the screen to them, showing grainy footage from a CCTV feed. Dock workers were walking about as a lorry was being offloaded. Lirian pointed to a vent grille on the side of the trailer.

“They were hiding them in a false panel inside the refrigeration unit. There is barely any air circulation, not to mention it is freezing. Like the Swansea case last year.”

Zel swore under his breath. “They’re importing now?” he growled. “Jaysus Christ.”

“They have to,” Lirian said flatly. “Social services are watching. Police are sniffing. The local ‘supply’ must be drying up. So now they’re using the Irish Sea routes. Fewer checks and less risk. No one questions a broken freezer truck.”

Thane lifted his head slowly, his eyes hollow. “There’s something else,” he said hoarsely. “There was a woman about our age… Blonde hair with blue eyes. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She came with the kid. Seemed protective of the kid.”

Everyone seemed to freeze at that.

“Trish took the child. Didn’t let me come. And the woman…they loaded her into the van. She didn’t say a word, but she looked at me like she recognized me.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you think… Could it be…?”

“Dory?” Maro finished.

It was a question Thane had asked many times. When he saw a head of long blonde hair or blue eyes of a certain shade.

No one knew the answer.