In the bathroom, Rebel steps onto the stool so she can reach the sink and puts some toothpaste on her toothbrush while I lean against the doorframe.
Behind me, Brooks says, “I’m doing everything I can to get Mom back, kid. You understand that, right?”
Brandon nods. Tears well up in his eyes as he says, “But what if it doesn’t work, Dad? What if Mom—”
“Stop,” Brooks says abruptly. “For now, Mom’s still alive, and I’m doing everything I can to find her. Do you understand? If that’s not the case…” He rubs his forehead and takes a deepbreath. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes, okay? For now, there are still three of us.”
Brandon nods and steps onto the stool next to Rebel. My gaze wanders to the floor and I notice how Rebel takes Brandon’s hand and squeezes it gently.
It’s a good thing those two have each other.
Once they’ve brushed their teeth, we put them to bed. I kiss Rebel on the forehead and say, “Sleep well. I’ll let you know if there’s any news tomorrow, okay, Shorts?” She nods at me. “If there’s anything, you can ask Abby.” She nods again, and I squeeze her shoulder before leaving the room.
Mom’s sitting at the kitchen table. I walk over to her and kiss her on the cheek. Just then, Brooks comes out of the bedroom.
“Be careful, son,” Abby says softly.
Nodding, I walk to the door. “Take good care of those two.”
Mom winks. “I will.”
Then I leave the house, Brooks following close behind.
“Are you sleeping at my place or at home?” I look at my best friend, who avoids my gaze. The only answer is a nod toward where his house roughly stands.
“If I get a call, I’ll be on my way. See you there.”
We go to the front of the property together. Then he hops on his motorcycle. “I’m sure we’ll hear something soon. See you later, man.”
Once he’s started his motorcycle and driven away, I walk up the stairs to the apartment with a heavy heart. I lean my head against the wood and sigh deeply. “Where the fuck are you, Layne?” I mutter before going inside and closing the door behind me.
Twenty-Seven
Allnightlong,there’scoughing, sobbing, and throat clearing. The mattress I’m lying on is covered in disgusting stains and tears, and the smell is awful. Norah is lying on the other half, and I’m not sure if she can sleep. Maybe she’s been here long enough to tune out all the noise. But when I close my eyes and see Rebel, those thoughts vanish. I breathe in sharply, causing the nasty smell to penetrate even deeper into my nostrils. It doesn’t matter. I can’t relax anyway.
I really hope Rebel is with Kyler. I’m not even considering any other possibility, pushing all doubt as far away as possible. She’s gotta be safe. That’s the most important thing right now, and the uncertainty is even worse than being here. In this filthy,terrifying place. What’s gonna happen? What are they doing with all these women?
The only thing I can think of is human trafficking. Why else would you put so many women in a cell in some basement where no one ever goes? Norah came to the same conclusion. She told me yesterday during our conversation.
Does Kyler know this? Does the MC know everything is connected to human trafficking? If so, why haven’t they said something?
Because it’s the rules of the club, the little voice in the back of my mind whispers.
Where are we going? What should we do? How do we get out of here?
We can’t. We can’t get out of here. Not without help, anyway.
I exhale and close my eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep.
Apparently, I must’ve fallen asleep, because suddenly morning light shines through the small windows. I curl up a little and press my nose into my shirt, which still faintly smells like home. Tears well up in my eyes, so I quickly squeeze them shut.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
It’s warm against my back, and when I look up, I find Norah snuggled up against me. That’s nice; this place is a freezer, and it’s only us here.
A nasty squeaking announces that the door at the end of the corridor is being opened. My heart immediately starts pounding in my throat and I hold my breath. Heavy footsteps echo in the corridor and a few seconds later, a tall man in a tailored suit appears. Why the fuck is he wearing that suit in this filthy hole?
His blond hair is slicked back, and his hands are stuffed in his pockets. I quickly avert my gaze, curl myself up into the smallest ball possible, and try to make as little noise as I can. Please let him walk past me. Something about him makes me want to run a mile.
