And the second I see her… this rescue becomes personal.
ELEVEN
EMMA
The concrete is cold beneath my knees, my wrists raw from the too-tight zip ties that bite into my skin. The warehouse is dim, shafts of light slicing through cracked windows high above. Dust floats in the air like ash from a fire that’s already burned through everything worth saving. My mouth is dry. My head pounds. And my heart is a jackhammer behind my ribs.
They tossed me in here like trash—like I didn’t matter. But I do. I matter to Rhett. I matter to Mia. I matter to myself.
I breathe through the pain, blinking away the blur in my vision. My cheek is scraped from the fall, and my hair’s hanging loose, the braid unraveling the longer I sit here. I’ve counted the seconds. I think it’s been an hour since they dragged me inside and chained the door.
And then—I hear it.
A struggle.
Whimpering. Heavy boots. The creak of metal.
The door at the far end of the warehouse groans open, and three men shove in a group of girls. Their eyes are wide, dazed, terrified. I strain against the bindings, my chest tight with rage and panic.
And then?—
“Mia!” The name rips from my throat before I can stop it. One of the girls lifts her head. She’s thinner. Bruised. Her lip is split. But it’s her.It’s her.
“Emma?” She stumbles forward, only to be yanked back by one of the men.
“Shut up,” he snarls, pushing her to the ground.
“No! Let her go!” I scream, fighting like hell against my restraints. “You already got what you wanted. Just let her go!”
The man turns to me, amused. “Aww, ain’t that sweet? Sisters. Too bad you’ll both be gone by morning.” The door slams shut behind them. We’re left in a horrible silence. Broken only by Mia’s sobs and my ragged breathing.
“Mia,” I whisper. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here now.”
“I thought—” she hiccups. “I thought you wouldn’t find me.”
“I never stopped looking.”
We sit there for what feels like an eternity until Mark Renshaw enters. He’s smiling. Wearing that same smug expression I always hated. Dressed in dark tactical pants and a smug button-down, sleeves rolled up like he’s some warlord in a discount action movie. He claps slowly, his boots echoing across the concrete floor.
“Well, well. I didn’t expect the little sister to make things so interesting,” he says, stopping in front of me.
I don’t look away. “You think this ends with you selling us?” I say, my voice low. “Someone’s coming for us.”
“Maybe,” he muses. “But by the time they get here, you and your sister will be halfway across the ocean. Sold to the highest bidder.” He gestures lazily toward the girls. “They all will be.”
I spit at his boots. “You’re a coward.”
He laughs. “I’m a businessman. And I win.”
There’s a loud crash and Mark stiffens. And all I do is smile when his eyes connect with mine. Because I know.I freaking know,it’s Rhett. It’s got to be.
“What was that?” one of his men asks.
“Go check,” Mark snaps.
The air shifts. I feel it. That strange sixth sense. The one that says— they’re here. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I strain again at the zip ties. They’re loose now, worn down from rubbing them against the edge of the metal grate under my knees.
Outside, there’s shouting. Gunfire. The building shakes. The girls scream.
