Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I grind my teeth. “You’re safe,” I say. “Fucking hell. You’re alive. Celine, that’s all I can think about right now.”
“Are they safe?” she demands.
“They’re safer than they were in that goddamn basement.”
“What about the others?”
Julian, sitting beside her, gently takes her hand. “We’re all alive. None of us are wounded. That’s a miracle.”
I call Agent Keane. The first thing I say is the address of the gambling recovery center. “A lot of women and girls escaped. They’re going to scatter. Perhaps go to the cops. I want you to find them. Get all the evidence necessary to make sure the mob doesn’t get their hands on them again.”
It takes him a moment to register. “Holy shit. You were right. Your instincts were right.”
Big fucking surprise.
I wish they weren’t.
“I can do that,” he goes on. “The Bureau won’t be able to ignore this.”
“There’s more. One of the women spoke about the mob having more women.”
He sighs heavily. “One thing at a time. This is going to be a huge operation already.”
“Fucking hell, Thomas.”
“It’s the way things work.”
“Just find these women,” I snarl, hanging up.
Finally, I drive up behind my house and pull my car into the concealed garage. All three of us climb out. Celine stares at me for a moment, then glances at her brother.
Something in her breaks, and she rushes into my arms. Bursting into tears that cut to my core and awaken something achingly human in me.
I wrap my arms around her. Hold her close. I never want to let go.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, kissing the top of her head. “No one’s going to hurt you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”
CHAPTER 27
CELINE
Ispoon hot cocoa powder into cups mechanically, my ears ringing from the gunshots, my heart pounding as I relive–over and over–what happened in the basement. I pray for the women and girls, though I’ve never been very religious. I pray Damian’s contact can find them, save them.
Carrying the cups into the living room, I find Julian standing at the front window, peeking through the curtains. The decorations seem out of place now. For the first Christmas ever, the sight of them does nothing to me.
Damian takes the cup gratefully, our hands brushing, a soft but conflicted smile on his face.
“No sign of anyone,” Julian mutters.
“I made us hot cocoa,” I say, trying to put some optimism into my voice. “A little Christmas cheer to push away all that darkness.”
“Thank you,” Damian says when Julian doesn’t reply.
A belated shock response triggers inside me when I sit down. I’ve seen it countless times as a nurse, but even knowing what it is, I’m unable to prevent it. I shudder all over, gripping my knees tightly, digging my fingernails into my thighs.
Damian stands, walks to the couch, sits beside and wraps his arms around me. Through my stinging tear-blurred eyes, I see Julian turn, see what’s happening, and turn back without a word.
Damian cradles me gently, his hand rubbing my back. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” he whispers with more gentleness in his voice than I could’ve imagined just a week ago.
By the time the panicked breaths have stopped, Damian has made countless circles over my back, tracing my scar though he doesn’t know it, and my cocoa has gone cold.
“We need to leave,” Julian says.
“He’s right,” Damian says, looking at me. “Sooner or later, they’ll find us and—”
“No,” I cut in coldly.
I jump to my feet, waving my hands, anxious energy pumping through my body like adrenaline-filled poison.
“We can’t leave. Those poor women and girls… They were broken. They were suffering in ways I wish I couldn’t imagine, but just being around them for a few hours, I can imagine it now. There are more. We have to do something. We can’t just run away and forget about it, about them.”
Damian stands, reaches for my hands. Julian flinches as though he’s thinking about hitting his best friend again. For a surreal moment, I float out of my body and view the scene from a third-person perspective.
This couldn’t be any messier.
I take a step back for my brother’s benefit, though it’s tough. All I want is to fall into his arms.
“If we stay,” Damian says darkly, “it means all-out war with the mob. More killing. It means letting the Beast out until there’s no one left to challenge us, eradicating countless people, dozens.”
I straighten my back. “Good.”
Julian gasps. Damian looks genuinely shocked.
“Good,” I repeat. “I was naïve before. I thought it was black and white. But it’s not simple, is it? If we have to do bad things to stop those monsters from doing even worse things, then good. It’s what they deserve.”
Damian takes my hand. This time, I don’t flinch away. I can’t. I need the support, the closeness. I need him, and I’m getting tired of pretending I don’t.