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“Lucy, is that you?” I whisper.
She’s several feet away from me, spaced apart just like all of the women are. I glance around quickly to see if any of the guards are paying attention, but the ones who flanked my mother followed her when she left. I’m sure there are others watching, but I can’t see any with their gazes trained on me right now.
Quietly and carefully, I shuffle a little closer to Lucy. She’s got a large bruise under one eye, and her dark hair is tangled, partially obscuring
her face. She looks like a mess, and not just physically. Getting dragged back into the hell she thought she’d escaped from seems to have destroyed every bit of confidence and calm she was able to build up over the past few days.
And she’s the strong one.
Fuck, I hope Emmaline and Dee are okay.
I haven’t seen them since I woke up, although there are plenty of parts of the large warehouse that are out of my line of sight.
“It’s okay. We’ll be okay, I promise.” I whisper the words, hoping she can’t tell quite how empty that vow is. “Listen to me, we can’t talk much or they’ll hear us and separate us. I’ll lose you in this mess of people.” She shakes her head, and I dip my chin to catch her gaze. “Lucy, the binds on my wrists are a little loose. With your help, I might be able to get free. Then I’ll help untie you. We’ll escape.”
“What about everyone else?” she asks.
Shit. What about everyone else? Despite my mother’s promise that all of these women would gladly kill me for a chance at freedom, I can’t believe that’s true. And even if it were true, it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t kill them just so I could get out of here, and I’m not going to leave them behind either.
“I don’t know,” I tell Lucy honestly. “But I’ll think of something. We’ll find a way to help them too, okay?”
She nods, seeming bolstered by that idea.
“Help me, all right? See if you can untie these ropes.”
I angle my back toward hers so she can reach the tie on my wrists. She lets out soft noises of frustration as she struggles to untie me, plucking at the already loosened knots. Finally, I feel them start to give way. A few moments later, my wrists are completely free.
Shifting my position a little, I quickly begin to work on the rope around her wrists. We need to get out of here, but I still don’t know what to do about the other women. Lucy and I may be able to escape undetected, but I can’t get all of these girls out that way.
Should we try to slip out and call the police?
There was a time when I would’ve answered that question with an unequivocal “yes,” but that was before my cop fiancé tried to kill me. Before I fell in with a mafia syndicate for whom law enforcement is the enemy.
But even if I can’t trust the police, they would help these women, wouldn’t they?
My fingers tug at the knots binding Lucy’s wrists as I chew on my lip, my mind whirring. By the time she’s free, I’ve made up my mind. We need to try to get out and call for help. Lucy and I can’t take on all these men ourselves. We need backup.
“Come on,” I whisper, rising to a low crouch and helping her up.
The dark warehouse is a maze, and we avoid pockets of light as we weave between large shipping containers, trying to find an exit.
My heart races so fast in my chest I’m afraid that one of the guards is going to hear it beating, that they’re going to—
Slam!
In the darkness, I run right into a solid form, and the breath escapes my lungs in a whoosh. Large hands immediately clamp down on my arms and stop me, strong enough to keep me from thrashing.
“Lucy, run!” I scream, but it’s already too late.
Another guard grasps her by the waist, circling his arms around her and pulling her to the ground. She puts up a good fight, screaming and biting and kicking, but he’s too powerful for her. A whimper dies in my throat as she’s pushed to the ground, her body hitting the cement with a heavy thud.
The man who holds me kicks the back of one of my knees, sending me to the ground with brutal force, and I grit my teeth against the pain.
“Grace, Grace, Grace.” Camilla stalks toward me, clicking her tongue. Her lips press into a line. “This isn’t funny anymore. You’re not a child acting out anymore, and you know I can’t allow this kind of thing from anyone. Not even you. I’m running a business here.”
This time, I do spit at her feet as those shiny heels get close to me. She grabs my chin and yanks it up, forcing me to look at her.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way, sweetheart,” she says, staring at me with something like pity. “You should have learned long ago that in this world, it’s every person for themselves.”
