In. Hold. Out.
In.
Hold.
Out.
He couldn’t allow any other thoughts to enter his mind or he’d stop breathing altogether.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when the van finally came to a stop, the engine cutting out. He didn’t know if there was something worse waiting for him outside, and that thought had him clutching the blanket tighter around himself.
The two men in the back with him talked low amongst themselves for a moment, and then the one who’d given Emmett the throw blanket was grabbing him by the arm to pull him to his feet, the blanket falling to the floor of the van and leaving him feeling even more exposed than he already did.
He tried to swallow down the panic threatening to rise in his chest as he was tugged out the door, his steps wobbly at best. They led him into a house, the hand on the back of his shoulder making him nauseous.
He tried to orient himself. To take in his surroundings. But he’d never been this terrified in his life. The sound of heavy footsteps, of rustling clothes, of someone tapping their nails against metal… it was too much.
“Carlton?”
The voice cut clear through the fog, and it snapped his head up, his spine ramrod straight as he watched Heath walk towardthem. He was in his usual designer clothes, his hair slicked back and making him look like the pretentious asshole he was.
“There you are,” Heath said, smiling at Emmett as if they were having a normal conversation. As if this situation was completely normal.
Fingers dug into Emmett’s shoulder, bringing him to a halt. He bit his cheek to keep from making a pained sound, though he couldn’t hide his flinch.
The man who’d driven the van stepped around Emmett, his straight posture and military short hair only making him look that much scarier. He’d removed his scarf, and Emmett tried not to look at him, cutting his gaze to the floor.
“You forgot to mention a few things,” Carlton said, his tone making the hair on Emmett’s arms stand on end.
“I told you exactly where he was,” Heath argued.
“We lost a man.”
Heath’s eyes widened for a second, and then that arrogance took over, and he crossed his arms, looking down at Carlton with a sneer on his face.
“How is it my fault that you’re bad at your jobs?”
Carlton didn’t lash out or yell, and Emmett thought that his silence might just be worse.
“You just doubled the price.”
Heath spluttered, then gave Emmett a look he could only translate to, ‘you better be worth it,’ and if he hadn’t already been cold to the bones, he certainly was now.
“You look pale. Go sit on the couch,” Heath said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll take care of this.”
The hand on his shoulder disappeared, and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief, though realizing he wasn’t any safer with Heath had him clenching his teeth instead.
He walked to the couch, his steps cautious. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder, to refuse Heath’s order. He hadno idea what was truly going on. How much danger was he in? Heath had never physically hurt him before, but now he was doing business with the kind of men who did?
He lowered himself onto the couch, breathing in and holding it for a few seconds before breathing out again, trying to center himself. It wasn’t working. Nothing felt right. His own skin felt wrong. Foreign.
He dug his nails into his palms as he watched Carlton and his men turn and walk out of the room. The second they were out of sight, he noticed his breathing becoming a little easier. It soothed his anxiety enough for him to look around. He’d barely noticed the outside of the house, but from what he saw in this room, an open living-dining-kitchen situation, he’d never been here before. Heath had to have lent or rented it.
Heath dropped his phone onto the kitchen island with a sigh. Emmett didn’t know what he’d paid those goons, but he knew Heath wasn’t rich. Not rich enough to pay for human trafficking, which he was starting to realize that this probably constituted as. Shit. What the hell had Heath gotten them into, and how did he get out of it? He needed to get as far away from Heath as possible. But how?
There was no way Heath would leave him alone long enough for him to sneak out. Did he just wait for Wilder to come for him? A lump formed in his throat, making it hard to breathe. He knew the others would come looking for him, but it was Wilder’s face, Wilder’s eyes, he wanted to see. It was Wilder’s big body he needed to see blocking the doorway.
He didn’t even know if Wilder was alright, and the thought made a tear slip down his cheek. He dried it off before Heath could see. He’d always scolded him for being too sensitive.
