Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Chapter Thirty
Mackenzie
My entire body feels like it’s weighted down with lead as I come to. Something loud and awful keeps echoing off the space I’m in. Whatever it is, it’s amplified.
It takes me a minute to realize it’s crying. Not really crying, but painful sobbing. When I blink my eyes open, I’m met by the sight of Cara’s frightened face across from me. She’s laying on her side, still bound, staring at me with sheer terror.
The crying isn’t coming from her because she’s gagged now. So am I, I realize. Wherever we are is dimly lit, the smell of salt and rust invading my nostrils. As my eyes adjust and I glance around, I realize we’re in a fucking shipping container. With at least ten other women, who are all bound and gagged like us.
I wiggle my arms, which are completely numb, and I can’t budge them at all. The rope they used to tie us is impossibly tight around both my wrists and ankles. It’s the most uncomfortable and awkward position to be laying in, and I’m completely defenseless unless I can figure out a way to loosen them.
While I work on wiggling my wrists back and forth, my eyes dart around for the source of that awful noise. It isn’t just sobbing now, but grunting too. And finally, I find it. In one of the shadowed corners of the metal death box we’re trapped in, a man is pumping his hips in and out of a girl who’s half bent over a folding table, her pants down around her ankles.
A murderous rage builds up inside me when I realize what’s happening right in front of me. This fucking pig is taking her while she’s bound and completely defenseless. Meanwhile, his companion is just sitting there watching the whole event with a bored expression.
A sound of protest rips from my chest, and both men look my way. They speak in rapid-fire Armenian before the one standing guard walks towards me. The closer he draws near, the more I realize my mistake. I can do nothing to help this girl. Absolutely fucking nothing because I’m bound like a goddamn pig in this filthy shit hole.
He reaches down and pulls the gag from my lips so I can speak.
“They’re going to murder you,” I snarl. “They will tear you apart, limb from fucking limb.”
The man laughs and hoists me up like ragdoll. He says something again in his foreign tongue, and the other man laughs too. And then he’s dragging me across the container, trying to shove me face first over a chair. I buck and fight against him every step of the way, but it’s nearly impossible with the restrictions on my body. He loosens the binds around my ankles enough to spread my legs before he spins me around and shoves me over the chair. When he starts to hike the material of my dress up around my waist, I stomp on his boot and then throw my head back into his face with a satisfying crunch.
Turns out, he doesn’t like that so much. He grabs me and hurls me into the wall so hard I see stars before I crumple to the ground. And then his boot is sailing into my stomach and ribs over and over again.
“Hey!” the other man snarls as he jerks his head around. “Don’t damage the fucking merchandise, moron!”
When I glance up at my attacker, his face is a bloody mess, and he still looks murderous. For a moment, I doubt he’s actually going to stop. But then his friend says something in their language, and the name Arman makes him back down.
I’m left to cough up my blood in peace while the other man finishes himself off. I’m grateful when it’s over and the poor girl is left alone. When she’s tossed to the floor like garbage beside me, her big green eyes find mine, and it shatters me. She looks grateful to me though I can’t possibly comprehend why. She can’t be older than nineteen. And looking at her tear-stained face, I’m no longer seeing her, but Talia.
Is this what happened to her? Did she get caught up in the cross hairs of some sort of mob feud? The thought is enough to make a few tears leak from my eyes too.
“They’ll come for us,” I tell the girl.
She doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about, I’m sure. But nonetheless, my words seem to bring her comfort.
“They’ll come,” I say again.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mackenzie
Throughout the night, different men continue to come and go. They bring more women who are bound and gagged in various states of consciousness. Some of them look like they’ve been held for a while. And I know it means they’re getting ready to make a shipment.
I watch quietly, trying to gather anything of importance while I can. There isn’t much to go on. Most of them look like foot soldiers, just doing as they’re told. But then another man comes. One dressed in an expensive suit.
I can’t understand the conversation they’re having, but the men who took us are waving their arms in animated fashion, guns slung over their shoulders. They gesture to me and Cara, and the guy in the suit grows furious. He starts yelling something back at them and then runs a hand through his hair several times over.
He’s nervous too, I notice as I watch him. And nervous never bodes well for captives. I glance back at Cara, who is so pale I think she might pass out. She’s too petrified to cry anymore, so that’s one blessing, I guess. In fact, all of the girls are being quiet as church mice. They know as well as I do this guy is somehow deciding our fate.
After a few more minutes of conversation and some pacing back and forth, he makes a hand gesture that looks like he’s telling them to get on with it. That could mean a hell of a lot of things, and it’s exhausting trying to guess. My hands still haven’t come loose from the binds, and now that I’ve got some probably cracked ribs it hurts to even try to wiggle free. But I continue because every glance at the girl across from me reminds me that I can’t let them hurt her again. All of these women have families and friends. People who will be left to wonder, but never know what happened to them. And that’s a fate worse than death. The not knowing is what kills me about Talia. There’s no closure, no finality. Only the endless questions and the crazy scenarios running through my mind.