16. Hold For Silence
16
Hold For Silence
T he docks are dark as hell, the kind of black that swallows everything. The water sloshes faintly against the pier, and the air stinks of salt, oil, and rotting fish. Crates and shipping containers are stacked high like a goddamn maze, casting long, jagged shadows in the night. It’s the perfect place for shit to go sideways.
Everyone’s in a position now, but my patience is running on fumes. My leg’s killing me, my ribs feel like they’re on fire, and we’re still out here chasing shadows.
“What the hell is going on, G?” Raph whispers, his voice tight with nerves. He’s on edge, glancing around like he’s expecting something to jump out of the dark.
“I don’t fucking know,” I snap back, keeping my voice low but sharp enough to cut. “You said you had this shit under control, remember?”
Raph doesn’t answer; he just mutters something under his breath and keeps moving. Useless. I don’t have time for his second-guessing bullshit right now.
“On me,” I grunt, ignoring the ache in my side and moving forward.
Despite how much my body wants to quit on me, my gun’s already out, steady in my hand. Raph sticks to my right, Lana to my left. The three others behind us move like ghosts, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
Everyone else is in their positions doing what they need to be doing. Waiting and following my lead.
Lana’s silent for a moment, which should’ve been my first clue she was about to open her damn mouth.
“No offense,” she whispers, her voice laced with that signature attitude that makes me want to throw her into the crashing waves, “but why the fuck are you leading when you can’t even walk straight?”
I grit my teeth and glance at her. Even in the dark, I can see that smug look on her face, like she’s daring me to argue.
“Because,” I hiss, “I’m the only one here who won’t shit themselves when things go south. Now shut up and do your job.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t push it. She knows I’m right, even if she’d rather choke on glass than admit it.
The air thickens as we creep forward, the wooden planks of the dock groaning under our weight. The shipping container ahead looms like a beast, its doors slightly ajar, the shadows inside almost daring us to step closer.
I take a deep breath, steady my grip on the gun, and signal to the others. It’s time to find out if we’re walking into a fight—or a trap.
We step into the first accessible container, and it’s empty. Shit.
“This one is clear; let’s move on to the next,” I said in an annoyed voice.
After checking over nearly a dozen trailers, they all came up empty. Not one damn person in sight, and the night here is mute other than the sound of the waves and wind.
We scan the area, looking for any sign that could point us in the right direction. I’m coming; just hold on a little while longer.
“There!” Lana smacks my shoulder, pointing ahead, and lets out in a low and affirmative voice.
Dios Mio. There is a light in a container near the end of the boat. We all alternate checking corners and keeping our eyes on every inch of this place as we make our way to it.
We surround it. I take the front, standing right by the doors with Raph. Everyone else pulls three-sixty security, keeping their weapons drawn, ready for anything to happen. We sit in silence for a moment, and no sound or movement comes from inside.
I reach my hand out, extending my arm to grab hold of the handle. Pulling it open, I step in, pointing my gun at no one. A television sits there with a remote and a note on it that says, “Play me.”
“What the fuck is this?” Raph’s voice cuts in behind me. “A game of jigsaw?”
“She’s not fucking here that’s what this is!” I yell out and punch the hard steel wall of the shipping container, instantly busting my knuckle. “We were played! Your intel was fucking wrong!”
I grab Raph up by his shirt, and my fists meet his face with full force. He doesn’t fight back as I scold him and curse everything he has ever done.
“Ghost! Stop!” Lana’s voice cuts through, and I am forced to come back to reality. “You guys need to chill the fuck out, Esmé wouldn’t want this! Remember why we came here…”
She is right, but Esmé isn’t here. I climb off Raph, sit beside him, and lay my head on the cold steel.
The note now rests in my fists. Play me. The words are mocking and only make my blood boil even more. I pick up the remote and get to my feet, feeling like I could vomit any minute.
Raph shifts beside me regardless of what I just did to him. “Don’t,” he mutters in a panicked voice. “It could be a trap.”
“It’s already a fucking trap,” I snap, my voice low and venomous. Without waiting for another second, I press play.
The television flickers to a blank screen that only lasts a moment, and an image comes into focus. My stomach twists when I realize what I am looking at—no, who I am looking at. It’s her.
“Esmé ” My voice lets out with grief.
She is tied to a chair, her hands bound behind her back, her legs strapped to the metal frame. A black bag covers her head, and her body—completely exposed—is covered in bruises, scratches, and she is fucking filthy. Her chest rises and falls with an indication of life. She is fucking terrified. Marklov is a goddamn dead man.
Behind her, men stand in a loose circle, their faces obscured by masks. They’re armed, relaxed, and silent.
A voice cuts through, Marklov.
“Ghost,” his voice, a mixture of Spanish and Russian accents, drips with satisfaction as if he had just won at life. “I must admit, it’s been fun watching you all play. Running through the dark like little rats, sniffing for bread crumbs I left behind.”
Lana curses under her breath, her grip tightening on her gun. “Stupid mother fucker! He will pay.”
The camera pans slowly, zooming in on Esmé. She flinches as one of the men brushes his grimy fingers along her shoulder, his hand lingering in a way I instantly see red.
Marklov chuckles, the sound low and menacing. “Did you really fucking think you could outsmart me? That you could just walk in and play hero; you don’t have the strength. You’re weak and broken. And look at her, Ghost. She is mine now, mine to do whatever the hell I please. Every scream, every tear…they belong to me. And by the time you get to her, it will be too late—there won’t be much to save. That goes for your sweet Esmé and the one that rightfully belongs to me, Tormenta—Inés.
“Motherfucker!” I shout.
Marklovs voice continues, taunting me. “You think you’re a hero, Ghost, you’re nothing. It’s just some desperate fool chasing not one but two lost causes. But I do hope you come for them. I would really enjoy watching you die.”
The screen cuts to black, and silence rings in my ears for a moment. The remote clatters to the floor from my hands, and my fingers feel numb.
“She’s alive,” Lana says softly, a huge difference from the harsh edge she usually has. “We can still—”
”She’s fucking naked!” I roar, my voice breaking, and my heart hurts. My chest feels like it’s being crushed by the world alone. “Tied up like a fucking animal! They’re touching her, hurting her, and laughing about it!” My hands shake violently. I slam my fist into the steel wall again, reopening the cuts on my knuckles.
“Ghost, get it together,” Lana snaps, grabbing me by my shoulders. “We don’t have time for this. We know she is alive, so we will take this video and have our guys look at it to see if they can pull anything from it. On another note…who the hell is Inés?”
“Not the time nor place for that. As a matter of fact, it’s not anyone’s damn business.” I replied.
The others stand frozen, the tension hanging heavy in the air. I can’t seem to catch my breath, nor can I seem to get the image of Esmé out of my head—her helpless, battered body, the way she flinched, she wasn’t even crying. It is like she gave up, cried all she could, and now accepts whatever comes to her next.