The room erupts. The recoil bites into my palm, the flash burning white across my vision. The sound shatters the air—one deafening, definitive end to a legacy built on blood and stolen childhoods.
Una jerks back, her body folding before her brain has time to process she’s already gone.
Antonio barely gets a gasp out.
He stumbles forward—maybe to run, maybe to bargain again—but the next volley tears through him, ripping through arrogance, through legacy, through every secret he thought he’d die with. He collapses beside her, blood pooling across the concrete, seeping out around him. Like all the toxic toxins he carried are finally being wiped out.
Isabella lets out a sharp, broken sob, the sound of someone realising too late that the ground beneath her has vanished.
Aidan turns toward her, voice low and controlled. “You’re not going anywhere.”
She shakes her head, hands lifting instinctively. “I-I can explain—”
Before anyone else can speak, Lily’s voice cuts through the room.
Quiet, raw, and shaking. But steady in a way that sends a chill through every man standing.
“Take her to the Pit.”
Every head turns to her, but Lily’s eyes stay locked on Isabella, unblinking. Like she knows the second she looks away, Isabella will find another knife and bury it in her back.
“She’s going to tell us everything she knows,” Lily whispers, each word trembling, but unbreakable. “And then we’ll decide what to do with her.”
The silence that follows is heavy with expectation.
And God help Isabella because the men in this room aren’t the only ones she should be afraid of now.
Chapter 49
The car ride back to London is silent, the kind of silence that presses against my lungs and makes each breath feel shallow. Matt sits close, one hand cradling mine like if he loosens his grip, I might vanish into the chaos of everything that’s happened. Was it really only thirty-six hours ago I walked into that meeting with the supposed investor?
His other arm stretches across the back of the seat, a shield I feel more than see. Every so often, his shoulder presses against mine, grounding me, tethering me to a world that suddenly feels impossibly fragile and unbearably solid.
Liam keeps catching my eyes in the rearview mirror, and Jonathan’s glances over his shoulder are less than subtle, but I can’t process their questions right now. Not while so muchremains unresolved, not while the smell of blood and fear still clings to my clothes.
Una and Antonio ran the sex trafficking ring; that’s clear. But how did they know each other? What role does Antonio’s wife—Vera—play in all this? And Isabella… how could she have existed in this world without anyone noticing?
I haven’t spoken a word since we got in the car. I can’t. My throat is raw, my hands still trembling. The memory of Isabella’s wide, terrified eyes, the betrayal, and the metallic tang of blood in that room curls inside me like fire. I want to scream it out, but instead I cling to Matt’s hand until my nails dig into his skin. He doesn’t flinch; he lets me lean on him, lets me bleed out my fear in silence.
“Lily,” he murmurs, low enough for me to barely catch it over the hum of the engine. “Look at me, sweetheart.”
I do. Slowly. Cautiously. My gaze lands on his, and I find… relief. Safety. Home. I was so scared I’d never make it out of there. Scared that they’d break pieces of me before I managed to escape. God, I don’t know how Cora lasted weeks, how Helen lastedyearsunder far worse conditions.
The only small relief is knowing this is the end. Alice, Niamh, and the other girls are currently being taken to Seamus’ house, into the safety of the Points gated community, where Cora, Donna, Fiona, and Helen are waiting for them. Jack, Seamus, and Owen won’t let any harm come to them now, and in a few hours, I’ll be somewhere none of this can touch me.
But first… Isabella. What does she know? Are there more girls hidden away? How deep does this go? Have we truly managed to finally shut this thing down? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until the answer to that last question is a loud and undeniable yes.
The car turns, headlights cutting through the misty London night, and I finally allow myself to breathe, shallow and shaking, but real as we pull up to the Pit.
Making our way through the Pit’s security measures, everyone moves fast and with purpose. Jonathan, Liam, Aidan, Ciaran, Declan, Brennan—all of them operating with that quiet, lethal efficiency that makes my pulse slow just a fraction. Even with my chest still hammering, I feel safer surrounded by them.
Matt guides me through the corridors, his hand never leaving mine, steady and sure. I realise with a jolt that I’ve never wanted to be anywhere more than right here—with him, warm and alive at my back, not hiding a single thing about our relationship.
Once we reach the room Ciaran practically calls home, reality crashes in.
Aidan leads Isabella to the middle of the room, hands bound loosely in front of her, eyes wide and glassy. She hasn’t cried. Hasn’t protested as Aidan led her down here with a firm hand on the back of her neck. She just stumbled along quietly and now remains frozen where he left her, eyes fixed on the floor like it might open up and swallow her whole.
“Sit her down,” Jonathan orders, voice calm and controlled.
