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“Yes. He and Carmen’s father are business partners.”
“I know.” She sniffs and squeezes her eyes shut as I secure fresh strips of torn sheets around her wounds.
“Guardian HRS has been working to bring down this operation for some time. We’re close, but the less I tell you about that the better it’ll be for you.”
“I understand.” She opens her eyes and glances around the room. “Is it safe to assume anything we say here is being monitored?”
“Yes.”
She’s a smart woman. I love that about her, and now there’s no need to tell her to be careful about what she says.
“They’re going to use me to get to you.”
“Most likely.” I clench my teeth, berating myself for involving her in this and putting her in this perilous predicament. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t let them win. Tell them nothing.”
“I can’t let them hurt you.” I knot the final bandage, grimacing, uncertain if I can honor her request.
Her warm hand gently cradles my jaw, her fingers exerting a soft pressure on my skin, compelling me to meet her gaze. The delightful fragrance of her perfume wafts toward me, intermingling with the stale scent of our surroundings. Drawing close, her breath brushes against my face.
“I may not have all the training you’ve undergone, but I know when something’s worth it.” Urgent and intense, her words spear my heart with her strength and truth. “This is worth it.” The determination in her eyes is enough to break me.
“I can’t…” My voice rasps because I can’t do as she asks.
“If they get what they want, how many lives will be at stake? How many more will suffer?” She pleads with me, her fingers fluttering over the bruised skin of my face. “Don’t let me be the reason others suffer.”
“I can’t stand by and let them hurt you.”
“You have no choice.” She’s trying to be strong, but Barbi’s terrified. Her voice trembles as she tries to be strong, but her terror is palpable. “These people are monsters profiting from the sale of human beings, exploiting vulnerable women and children. The mere thought of another young woman subjected to such cruelty because we weren’t strong enough shatters my heart. You can’t. You can’t let them use me to get to you. Please, don’t let me be the reason someone’s life is ruined.” She glances at the spacious tiled shower behind us. “Is it bad I want to take a long, hot shower?”
Her attempt at changing topics brings a smile to my lips. “They’re probably watching as well as listening.” It’s what I would do, and I warn Barbi.
“It’s all a part of it, isn’t it?” She sighs, her voice heavy with resignation.
“A part of what?”
“Torturing us? Keeping us together but making everything difficult.”
I nod, understanding what she means. This room feels too small, too confined. Our situation dire and hopeless. I take a breath, feeling suffocated by the thick, humid air.
“I wouldn’t recommend a shower, but it’s been a long day, and it’s best to sleep when you can.”
“Sleep?” She shakes her head. “I can’t imagine letting down my defenses enough to sleep.”
I know exactly how she feels. My body is sore. My muscles ache. Exhaustion pulls at me. My head throbs.
“Sleep deprivation is a key tenet of torture, so I’d try while you can. I’ll take first watch.”
“They really did a number on you.” Her fingers flutter over the bruising on my face.
I catch my reflection in the mirror, and my heart sinks. Swollen and angry red, my face is lumpy and misshapen, my features distorted. My eyes cloud with pain, and deep circles accentuate my exhaustion. The bruising makes a stark contrast against my skin, yellow and purple welts blooming in the wake of the assault, marring my features. My skin is tender to the touch, and I flinch at the slightest caress. I can barely bring myself to move, too weary to take any action. The need for sleep is strong, but she needs it more than me.
“I’ll take first watch. You need sleep more than me.” She tries to resist, determined to take care of me, but the fierce protector in me refuses her help. “You can’t protect me if you’re dead on your feet.” She puts up a good fight, making me realize this isn’t an argument I will win.
Reluctantly, I yield, recognizing Barbi’s need to care for me is essential for her survival. As she guides me toward the grand four-poster bed, intricate carvings captivate me. The elaborate details come alive beneath my fingertips, showcasing the undeniable talent of the artists. Unfortunately, such craftsmanship is wasted within these walls.
I sink into the soft mattress and let out a contented sigh. The plush bedding envelops me in a cocoon of warmth, and the gentle weight of the blankets feels like a comforting embrace. As I close my eyes, the sweet aroma of lavender and chamomile from the pillows fills my nostrils, lulling me into a state of false calm.
