I immediately turned my beam toward the back of the current room, my heart suddenly hammering against my ribs.
A narrow cot sat pushed against the far wall, half hidden behind what had been arranged to look like a casual wall of stacked crab traps and plastic totes. Someone had clearly tried to make it appear as though storage had simply been shoved back there and forgotten over time, allowed to accumulate naturally. The disguise was crude at best, amateurish even, but in the pitch dark, with no reason to do more than cast a casual glance around, it might actually work. It might be enough.
A figure lay curled on the cot in a defensive position. Bound with what looked like duct tape. Gagged with more of the same. Eyes wide and reflecting our flashlight beams with an almost animal terror.
My chest seized so hard it physically hurt, like someone had reached inside and squeezed. “Priya.”
I bolted toward her without thinking, without caution, dropping hard to my knees beside the cot with enough force that pain shot up my thighs. “Oh my God. I’m here. We’re here. You’re safe now.”
Her eyes flooded instantly with tears that spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She made a broken, muffled sound around the tape covering her mouth, her whole body jerking as if she didn’t know whether to fight or collapse, whether we were real or some kind of cruel hallucination her desperate mind had conjured.
Realizing abruptly that she might not be able to see my face clearly with the flashlight shining in front of me, I quickly turned the phone around to illuminate my own features instead. “It’s Madden Reilly. I’m a friend of Astrid’s—we met over fish tacos. Remember?”
Rios was already there beside me, dropping into a crouch, his hands steady and sure as he pulled out another blade attachment on his multi-tool and began carefully cutting through the layers of tape.
The second the gag came free from her mouth, Priya sucked in a huge, shuddering gulp of air and immediately broke into wracking sobs. “Thank—thank God—I thought—I didn’t think anyone?—”
“It’s okay.” My voice came out rougher than I’d intended, scraped raw with emotion I was barely keeping contained. “You’re okay now. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Her gaze darted frantically between us, back and forth, like she didn’t quite believe we were actually real, like she was terrified we might disappear if she blinked.
“How long have you been here?” The question came out sharper than I’d meant it to, more like an interrogation than comfort, but my body was demanding answers, demanding a timeline, demanding something concrete I could grab onto and make sense of.
Priya shook her head hard, the movement jerky and uncoordinated. “I don’t—I don’t know for sure. Days, I think. Maybe? I lost track after...” She swallowed hard, her throat working visibly.
“Have you been in this building the whole time?” Rios asked, his tone carefully measured and calm even as he continued working on the tape around her wrists.
“Not the whole time. Not... not at first.” She swallowed again and visibly winced, like the action hurt her throat. “Somewhere else before. I think. It’s—everything’s confused.”
Rios’s jaw flexed with barely suppressed anger, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. But he kept his voice deliberately calm and even. “This guy—the one who was just here a few minutes ago—is he the one who took you initially?”
Priya hesitated, and that pause—just a beat too long—made my stomach drop like a stone. “I don’t... I don’t know. Someone grabbed me from behind—” Her breath hitched audibly. “They grabbed me when I was leaving the marine center late. I thought—” She squeezed her eyes shut. “At first I thought it was just a mugging, you know? That they wanted my purse or my phone or something. But then it wasn’t. It wasn’t that at all.”
I forced myself to stay perfectly still, to project steadiness and control, because she desperately needed someone to be steady right now. She needed an anchor.
“Did he hurt you?” Something dangerous threaded through Rios’s carefully controlled tone—a simmering fury being held on a very tight leash.
“No.” Priya’s answer came almost too quickly. “No, he didn’t—he brought food. Bottled water. I... I think he actually felt guilty about it?” She let out a single laugh, broken and ugly and completely humorless. “He kept saying he could fix this. That he was going to fix everything.”
Fix what? I wondered, with a chill running down my spine. What the hell did he think he was fixing?
“We can talk about all the rest of it later.” Rios sliced through the remaining bindings at her wrists and then moved down to work on her ankles. “Right now, we need to focus on getting you out of here. Can you walk? Are your legs okay?”
“I think so. I should be able to.” She tried to swing her legs off the cot and immediately winced, her face contorting with discomfort as protesting muscles made their displeasure known after days of limited movement.
“That’s completely normal after being restrained,” I told her, keeping my voice as professional and reassuring as I could manage, even though white-hot fury was lighting me up from somewhere deep. “Your circulation was restricted. We’ll take it slow, okay? There’s no rush now.”
Rios carefully slid one strong arm around her other side, supporting her weight. Together we got her upright, lifting her gently to her feet. She swayed once, badly enough that my heart leapt into my throat, but she caught herself with our help, breathing hard through her mouth.
He met my gaze over her head, and even in the glow of our flashlights, I saw the simmering rage in his eyes. “Hang tight, Priya. We’re getting the hell out of here.”
Thirty-Five
RIOS
Gabi got Priya down the hall of the clinic before the door swung fully shut behind us.
She didn’t rush her—didn’t crowd her, didn’t treat her like she was fragile glass—but she stayed close enough to catch her if her knees buckled. One hand hovered near Priya’s elbow; the other settled at the center of her back like a steadying point.
