Chapter 12 Wren
Wren
This is the kind of place that’s seen too many secrets and not enough daylight.
My wrists are raw where the zip ties cut into my skin. My mouth tastes like copper and dust, and my left cheek still burns from where Liam hit me. My head aches, but I’m conscious. A little too conscious. Every nerve is lit up like a power line in a storm.
There are three other girls tied up beside me.
They can’t be older than me. One looks younger.
One is crying softly, rocking herself where she sits on the cold concrete floor. Another stares ahead like she’s already detached, already gone. The third watches everything—like me. Alert. A survivor.
“Hey,” I whisper, keeping my voice low and steady. “What’s your name?”
The girl closest to me blinks slowly, then swallows. “Tessa.”
“Okay, Tessa. You’re doing good. Just breathe, alright?”
She nods, but it’s shaky. Her eyes flick to the shadows, the corners of the warehouse where things move without warning. There’s a broken light overhead, flickering on and off, casting us in stuttering flashes of white.
The girl to my left speaks up, voice hoarse. “He said they’re moving us tonight.”
I turn my head. “What’s your name?”
“Jo.”
“Okay, Jo. Do you know where we are?”
She shakes her head. “Somewhere north. We were in a van. Drove for hours. Then he changed vehicles.”
The other girl finally speaks. Her voice is flat. Dull. “He said we’re product.”
Rage lances through me. I sit up straighter, ignoring the pain slicing through my arms.
“Not product,” I snap. “People. We are people.”
Jo lets out a small, cracked laugh that sounds more like a sob. “Not to them.”
I feel something sharp settle behind my breastbone.
Hale.
I picture his eyes. The way he looked at me the last time we spoke. His voice when he said, I always come back.
If anyone can find us—it’s him.
But if not…
I square my shoulders.
Then I’ll do it myself.
A door screeches open on the far side of the warehouse.
Liam steps in, flanked by two men in masks, both armed.
He’s not wearing the hoodie now. He’s dressed in black.
Tactical pants. Gloves. His sleeves rolled up like he wants us to see the veins in his arms, the tattoos on his forearms. He wants us to fear him.
I don’t.
The room falls dead silent the second he walks in.
“Well,” he says, flashing a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I have to say, Wren, you’ve been a real pain in my ass.”
I lift my chin. “Then maybe you should’ve left me alone.”
He laughs, loud and sharp. “Still got a mouth on you. I’d almost forgotten.” He steps closer, crouching in front of me like we’re sharing a joke. “You know, there was a time I thought you might actually make a decent trophy wife. But you never could just do what you’re told, could you?”
“You mean play dumb?” I say, voice flat. “Smile pretty while you raped girls and sold the footage? Yeah. Hard pass.”
His grin drops.
He backhands me so fast I don’t even see it coming. Pain explodes across my cheek and I taste blood again.
The girls gasp.
I don’t cry.
I won’t.
“Still full of fire,” he mutters, standing. “Good. The clients like that. Bids are already coming in. You’ll fetch a high price.”
My stomach lurches.
“You’re sick,” I spit.
“No,” he says, turning his back like he’s bored. “I’m rich.”
He walks away, whistling, tossing commands to the men behind him in a language I don’t recognize. The two masked men stay. Watching.
I lean toward the girls. “Listen to me. When they move us, that’s our chance. That’s when people make mistakes. Doors open. Ties get cut. If we can run, we run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Find cover, scream your lungs out, and fight.”
Tessa’s crying again, but she nods. Jo’s jaw is tight. The quiet one—Alina, I think she said her name was—just watches. Like she’s already cataloging exits. I like her.
I bite at the inside of my wrist, trying to weaken the zip tie. My skin splits. I don’t care. I need blood. Lubrication. Anything.
I’m not going to be sold.
I’m not going to be someone’s trophy.
I am going to make it out of here.
And then I’m going to watch Hale burn this whole fucking operation to the ground.