Page 59 of Her Forever SEAL

Bree was in the far corner, on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes already fixed on the door. She had heard everything. She was braced for whatever came through next.

When the light from the main floor hit Sophia's face, Bree made a sound like something breaking open.

“It's me,” Sophia said immediately. She crossed the room in four steps and got down on her knees in front of her. “It's Kayla’s mom. Bree. You're okay, honey. You're okay.”

“What about the men?” Her voice was a whisper.

“They can’t hurt you,” Sophia whispered back.

Bree stared at her. In the shadows Sophia could see her face, pale, hollow-eyed, a bruise along her left jaw that made something cold move through Sophia's chest, and then Bree launched herself at Sophia, hugging her neck so tight, Sophia thought she might choke.

“I've got you.” Sophia managed to whisper.

“My mom?”

“Your mom is safe. She’s been so brave. She’s going to see you real soon.” She kept talking because Bree needed sound, needed a voice she recognized, needed to know this was real and not another version of the dark.

Bree continued to shudder.

“We need to leave,” Angie said as she put a hand on Sophia’s shoulder.

“Bree, you did so good, Bree. Sending that text. You were so smart. Can you walk?” Sophia asked into her hair.

“Yes.” Her voice was wrecked from crying and from days of near silence. “Yes. I can walk.”

“Then we're going to walk right now. Keep your eyes on me. Okay?”

Bree pulled back and looked at her and nodded. She got her feet under her and her knees buckled once and Sophia caught her and held until she found them again.

“Okay,” Bree said. “I'm okay.”

“I know you are.” Sophia kept her arm firmly around her. “Let's go.”

Rylie was still where she'd been.

The third man was still on the floor, his hand still pressed against his leg, the blood spreading dark across the concrete. His breathing had gone shallow and his face was gray but his eyes were open and tracking. Rylie crouched in front of him with her forearms on her knees, patient, unhurried, the way you waited for something you knew was coming.

Sophia steered Bree toward Angie without stopping.

She heard Rylie ask something. Low and even. She heard the man say nothing.

Rylie asked again.

Silence.

Angie took Bree from her at the door, wrapping her in the space blanket she'd produced from somewhere and speaking to her in the low, steady voice she used when Nora was frightened. She walked her out into fresh air and Sophia heard Bree take one long shuddering breath when the cool air hit her face.

Sophia looked back.

Rylie asked a third time. Her voice had not changed at all.

The man said something. One sentence. His accent was thick and Sophia couldn't parse the words but she watched Rylie listen to it and file it away without reacting.

Then Rylie asked one final question.

The man looked at her for a long moment. Something moved through his expression—not fear, not pain, something closer to resolution. The particular stillness of someone who has already decided. He moved his hand away from his leg. His chin dropped to his chest. When it came back up his jaw was working, just slightly, and Rylie was already lunging forward saying “don't—” but it was too late.

His body seized once, hard. The foam came fast, white at the corners of his mouth, and his legs kicked twice against the concrete in short involuntary spasms and then went still.