"We shouldn't speculate." Alina pointed at the ceiling. "The walls have eyes and ears in here, and the less we know, the better."
The possibility sent a thrill through Mattie, but it was only partially hope. The other part was fear.
"I've been listening to the immortals when they talk in the bar," Mattie whispered. "Most of the time they speak that language I don't understand, but sometimes they slip into English, and I've heard them mention someone called Dave and someone named Losham. Do you know who they are?"
"Losham is Navuh's son," Alina said. "He likes to order several girls from the brothel to service him at his home. I've never been chosen, but those who were said that he was surprisingly pleasant. I don't know who Dave is, though. The name is English, so maybe he's American or British. A consultant, perhaps?"
"I don't know. But they say it with this weird mix of fear and respect. Like he's important." Mattie pulled her blanket higher,suddenly cold despite the air conditioning barely able to combat the tropical heat. "That's why I want to talk to Dimitri. Maybe he can tell me something useful."
"Be careful," Nadia said. "You don't know where his loyalties lie. Being accused of treason or sedition carries the death penalty here."
Mattie grimaced. "Tell me something I don't know. But I can't just do nothing."
They were all dead already, maybe not physically, but in every way that mattered. Their old lives were gone, their families had no idea where they were, and no one was coming to rescue them.
The only question was whether they died slowly, hollowed out by years of servitude until nothing remained of who they'd been, or whether they died fighting.
Mattie had made her choice the first night she'd spent on this island. She'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't be like Nuri, with thirty-two years of captivity etched into every line of her weary face. She wouldn't let this place break her.
She'd escaped the fire that had killed her parents. She'd endured months of surgeries and physical therapy and grief so profound that it felt like drowning.
She hadn't survived all of that just to give up now.
"Men are never as nice as they seem," Alina said. "Not here. Maybe not anywhere."
"I know."
"And don't trust him," Yana added. "Don't trust anyone. It's the only way to survive."
"I know that too."
She did, but she also remembered the way Dimitri had looked at her, like she was a person with thoughts and feelings and a story worth knowing. He understood. Maybe not everything, maybe not the specific horror of being trafficked and assessed like livestock, but he understood what it meant to be powerless, to be used, to have your choices stripped away until survival became the only victory you could hope for.
And he hadn't gone to the brothel.
That mattered.
In a place where men's worst instincts were unleashed, where cruelty and exploitation were not merely tolerated but anticipated, he had chosen to sit alone at a bar, refusing to participate in the violation of drugged women.
It didn't make him a saint, but it made him different, and on this island, different was rare enough to be precious.
Tomorrow, she'd talk to him again. Carefully and cautiously, without giving away anything while trying to learn everything. She'd play the role of the friendly barmaid, ask innocent questions, and observe his reactions.
Information was currency, and she needed to start building her wealth.
She needed to find cracks in the system.
It wasn't much of a plan, but it was better than no plan at all.
Mattie closed her eyes and began her nightly ritual of picturing Sydney—the harbor, the Opera House gleaming white againstblue sky, the sound of seagulls, and the smell of salt and coffee and life.
She pictured freedom, pictured Adele and Gwyneth, who were probably still searching for her, probably never giving up hope even though months had passed since she'd been kidnapped.
6
KIAN
As Kian opened the door to his house, he was greeted by the smell of food, the sounds of children playing, and the familiar chaos of a Friday night family gathering. It should have been soothing, a time to unwind after a busy workweek, but instead, it felt like crossing from one dimension to another, and the whiplash was disorienting.
