Cam nods, picking up the thread. “It’ll feel strange at first,” he admits. “New walls always do, but you’re not being sent away as punishment. We’re just adding more adults on your side.” He tips his head toward Kiera and me. “These two are coming with you.”
Kiera moves to the door, list in hand. “Okay,” she says softly.Fuckkkk, she would be a damn good mom.My cock twitches with that thought. I turn to the wall to adjust myself before anyone notices.Now is not the time.“You’ll be in the van with Sterling. The babies will be with Lila and me. We are all going to the same place, so there is nothing to worry about.”
The group of kids holds their breath as Lila starts packing the truck bed. A few kids look relieved, a few more look as if someone just gave them another sentence. One girl refuses to let go of her little brother until Kiera drops her voice and promises that they will not be separated. “We won’t break you guys apart,” Kiera says, loud enough for the room to hear. “Got it? No one goes somewhere alone who doesn’t want to.” It’s a promise she should not make. It’s also one I’ll bleed to keep.
I take the first two kids out, one on each side, their bags slung over my shoulder. The cold night air hits all of us as I help them climb in. Kiera follows with another pair, talking low about music and who gets what seat. “Front row or back?” she asks a girl with a scar bisecting her eyebrow.
“Back,” the girl says. “Easier to see exits.”
The corner of Kiera’s mouth twitches. “Good answer. Always pay attention to your surroundings.”Damn it, there she goes doing it again.Trip after trip, the van fills, eleven kids, buckled and wide-eyed, clutching bags and blankets like shields. Six babies are strapped in the truck with Lila. Dr.Reyes and Evelyn are hog-tied in the bed of the truck. Cam hovers by the cabin door, tablet in hand, already juggling routes, contacts, and worst-case scenarios. Shutting the doors, I check the latches and circle to the front. “No main roads unless you have to. If anything feels wrong, you turn around and come back. I don’t care if you’re five minutes from the handoff,” Cam informs us.
“We got it,” I say.
Cam looks at Kiera next. “Protect those babies,” he says. “And Lila…” he says even quieter.
“Yes, Dad.” Kiera rolls her eyes. Cam doesn’t rise to it. Just squeezes her shoulder once, quickly, and steps back.
Sliding into the driver’s seat as Kiera leans through the window, twisted halfway around so she can see the kids. Her hand finds the dash, tapping out a restless rhythm. “Everybody buckled?” she calls. A chorus of yeahs and one mumbled whatever, a call back to her. “Okay, then. Next stop, somewhere that doesn’t suck quite as much.” She giggles at the kids as the kids giggle back. I start the engine as she walks over to the truck, the van rumbling to life. In the rearview, the cabin looks smaller than it ever has, a box of light in the trees. Cam is loading into his car—everyone is ready to leave this place behind. As we pull away, one of the littlest in our van lifts a hand and waves back, tentative. We can’t save them all. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But we’re moving some of them. Today, that has to count. Getting on the radio system, Cam rigged it so we could all stay in contact with minimal effort. “Ready?” I ask.
“No,” Kiera says honestly. “Drive anyway.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
House is an odd word to describe this fortress. It looks like it came straight out of one of my gothic romance books, the ones with ivy running up the walls, dark and gloomy, brick gone dull with age, whispers do not enter in a sinful caress, lacking any feeling of safety. The lights outside are off; only a single lamp glows behind a curtain on the second floor, soft and yellow, as if comfort is waiting inside.Cam swore this was the safest place for these kids.
Inside the van, eleven kids are pretending not to stare. One of the littlest ones is chewing on a sleeve, eyes wide, following my every moment. The six babies are still in the truck, where it’s warm. “Everyone, stay put for a second,” I tell them through the van window. “We’re going to go meet them, then we will bring you in. No wandering. Got it?” My hand finds the door handle and pauses. A cramp twists in my stomach. Pending labs and positive tests are looming in the back of my mind. My future is undecided.Later.I’ll deal with this later. Right now, we need to focus on them and give them the best possible shot at a normal future, whatever that looks like.
Moving toward the front door, Sterling falls into step beside me, his shoulder a solid presence at the edge of my vision. Sterling knocks on the door. The sound is dull, swallowed by metal and weather and whatever this place was before it became a way station for other people’s damage. There’s movement on the other side almost immediately—a scrape of a deadbolt, a chain sliding back. A small square in the door clicks openwith a metallic snap, revealing a slice of warm light and a pair of sharp brown eyes. “You’re right on time,” a woman’s voice says through the crack in the door. “Sterling and Kiera, right?”
“That’s us.” Sterling stands back so she can see him.
The woman swings open the door.She’s shorter than I thought.Dark curls pulled back under a bandana, loose sweatshirt, jeans, bare feet. Early forties, maybe. The kind of face that’s learned how to be soft without ever forgetting how to be hard. “Cam told me about you,” she says to Sterling. Then her gaze slides to me, and it’s like being X-rayed. “And you’re the one Cam warned me about.”
“Depends on what he told you,” I say. “He can be dramatic at times.”
Her mouth quirks. “Cam said you’re very good at getting people out of hell and very bad at believing they deserve somewhere better afterward. Sounds like you may have some experience in that department.” She steps back to let us in.
The entryway is narrow, and the walls are a shade of color that may once have been cheerful. There are scuff marks along the wall, just about a kid’s height, and a rack of mismatched shoes by the door. A bulletin board cluttered with flyers and hand-drawn pictures sits on the far wall. My stomach rolls to the mix of scents that are wafting through—coffee, laundry detergent, and some kind of dessert. “I’m Mara. Cam filled me in,” she says as she shuts the door behind us. “The kids were part of some kind of trafficking program that was running experiments on them. I run this facility for survivors. My family was running it before me. So, needless to say, these kids are in good hands.”
“Trafficking survivors,” I echo. Hearing the words out loud in someone else’s mouth puts this situation into perspective.
“Yeah,” Mara nods, eyes steady. “Not victims. I don’t like the term. It’s invalidating. The victim mentality doesn’t allow for growth or for becoming the person they were meant to be in a normal world. And they won’t be victims anymore, not if I have anything to say about it. They survived. They are survivors.” Her gaze flicks to the van through the door’s narrow window. “How bad was it for them?” she asks. Not asking if they can be saved, but more like what kind of hell needs to be undone.
“Mixed,” I say softly. “Some are adjusting better than others. Some are struggling with adjusting. The babies- I’m not sure- hoping they never remember this. All of them have earned the right never to see a white coat again.”
Mara nods once, expecting that answer. “Okay,” she says slowly. “Ground rules. You two can come in with them. You don’t give orders to my staff. They’re trained medical professionals whom I hired and trust. No weapons are to be visible unless needed. And if anyone followed you, you deal with it out front. Not in front of the kids. Are we clear?”
Sterling’s jaw flexes, not liking being bossed around.It’s not fun, is it!“We’re just here to give them somewhere safe,” he says. “And Cam said you keep people alive and unbroken better than anyone else he knows. We would like to check on them from time to time, if that’s okay?”
“I’m sure we can manage that,” Mara says. “We still clear on all that?”
“Crystal,” I answer for both of us before Sterling can say something stupid.
Mara studies me for another beat, then decides whatever she sees is good enough with a simple nod. “All right, Kiera.” She claps her hands. “Let’s meet the reasons Cam needed me. I’ll get my staff in position. You get the kids.”
By the time we step back onto the porch, the kids are already shifting around in the van. Cam is out of his car, standing next to Lila at the van. She has one hand on the doorframe, talking low to the kids closest to her. “Showtime,” Sterling says under his breath as we head for the van.
Eleven pairs of eyes swing toward us like they’ve been tracking every shadow. “Okay,” I say, pitching my voice so it carries but doesn’t boom. “Good news. The house is safe. No more needles or clipboards. No men asking you questions.” One of the older boys groans. “Mara’s inside,” I go on. “She’s in charge of this place and knows the bare minimum of what you’ve been through. The rest is up to you, what you want to share. You don’t owe her answers.”
