Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Marie
Iwoke up to sunlight reflecting off the ocean, and the intoxicating scent of Wade wrapped around me like a warm, fuzzy cocoon.
The bed was soft beneath me, like sleeping on clouds made of pure fluff. It was nothing like the mattress I'd had in The Sanctuary, nothing like any bed I'd ever owned before.
This was luxury I'd only imagined existed.
So much had happened so quickly—I'd escaped, met Wade, kissed him, let him touch me, and now I was waking up in his bed like this was normal. Like any of this was normal.
The ocean spread beyond the glass wall like a painting come to life. Waves washed ashore, and I watched them for a while, grounding myself in the reality that I was actually here. Actually free, actually safe.
And beside me in the bed, with one strong arm draped across my waist, was Wade.
He was already awake, watching me with those eyes that always seemed to see too much. His hair was slightly mussed from sleep, catching morning light and making him look almost ethereal.
He wore gray sleep pants and nothing else, his bare chest a landscape of tan skin and defined muscle that made my eyes widen looking at it.
"Good morning, darling." His voice was rough with sleep, deep and warm, doing things to my insides that weren't appropriate this early. "How did you sleep?"
"Good." The word came out breathless. "Your bed is amazing. I don't think I've ever slept so well in my life." I wiggled slightly, stretching my legs out until my toes brushed his calf. "I might never leave it. You'll have to bring me food here forever."
His smile was pleased. “That’s fine with me. You need proper rest." His hand moved over my waist, stroking slow circles. "I have news."
The words made alertness snap through me. "What kind of news?"
"The girls are safe." He said it simply, watching my face. "We extracted all nineteen of them early this morning. They're at a private medical facility receiving care."
I stared at him, at the bomb he dropped. What?
“What? But you said tomorrow—you said we had twenty-four hours."
"I lied."
There was no apology in his voice, just… honesty. "You needed rest, not stress. The window was perfect last night, so we moved."
A sense of betrayal, an anger, flashed hot and immediate through my head. He'd lied to me—he’d looked me straight in the face and lied while I'd trusted him completely. While I'd sat in his lap, kissed him, and let him touch me.
He'd known that the operation was happening that night, and he'd said nothing. He deliberately kept me in the dark because he'd decided what I needed without asking.
"You lied to me." My voice came out hard, hurt bleeding through despite my best efforts.
"You lied straight to my face and then—" I gestured vaguely at the bed, at him, at everything.
"And then you touched me and made me feel safe, when the whole time you were planning to do this without telling me. "
"I did." He didn't deny it. He didn't make excuses, which somehow made it worse. "Because you needed to rest more than you needed to worry."
"That's not your decision to make." The words came out sharp. "You don't get to decide what I need, Wade. You don't get to lie to me because you think you know better."
"You're right." That surprised me. "I don't get to decide. But I did anyway, because the women were suffering, you were exhausted, and waiting another day would have been cruel to everyone involved."
The logic made sense even through my anger. It frustrated me because I couldn't argue with it. He'd saved them. He’d used his resources, his people, and his money to do what I couldn't do alone. He’d freed them while I was sleeping peacefully in his bed.
I owed him everything for that. He didn't have to help. He could have walked away the moment I crashed into him, have called the police to handle it. He could have done a thousand things that weren't mobilizing an army to do what I asked. But he'd done it anyway, for me, because I'd asked.
But that didn't make the lying okay. It didn't make me feel any less hurt that he'd looked at me and chosen deception.
Wade watched me, calm and patient. His hand moved from my waist to my hair, fingers playing with a few of my braids. The gesture was subtle, soothing, drawing my attention to the gentle touch instead of the anger burning in my chest.
He twisted them around his fingers, stroking down their length, and tucked them behind my ear with infinite care.
"Marie." His voice was soft, grounding. "You saved them."
The words knocked the breath from my lungs and made confused tears spring to my eyes before I could stop them.
“Me?” I whispered, my voice breaking. "They're really safe? All of them?"
"All of them." His pale blue eyes held mine steadily. "Every single one."
"How—" I couldn't finish the question, couldn't get past the tightness in my throat. "I need proof. Please, I need to see them.”
Wade reached for his iPad on the nightstand, tapped it open, and handed it to me without a word.
The photo on the screen was everything I wanted.
Nineteen women, my girls, were sitting in what looked like a comfortable room with soft lighting and actual windows. They were wrapped in blankets—real blankets, thick, clean, and warm. Plates of food sat before them, and nurses stood around them with gentle hands and kind faces.
Lena was there, her blonde hair clean and brushed. Sophia had tears on her cheeks but was smiling. Katya was holding someone's hand. All of them were alive, all of them were free.
I burst into tears. Not quiet, dignified tears, but loud, ugly sobs that tore out of my chest like they'd been trapped there for five years.
My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the iPad, but I couldn't stop looking at the photo.
Couldn't stop seeing their faces, seeing them safe, seeing proof that this was real.
"They're really out," I gasped between sobs. "They're really out.”
"They're safe, darling." Wade took the iPad and set it aside, pulling me against his chest. "They're free, they're being cared for. And… they're asking for you."
I cried harder, everything I'd been holding back for five years finally breaking free. Relief, joy, and overwhelming gratitude all mixed together until I couldn't breathe around it.
This was everything I'd wanted. Everything I'd burned myself and run through the jungle, risking my life for. Everything I'd hoped for during the darkest nights underground when I thought I'd never see the ocean again.
But I hadn't been there with them. I hadn't been able to see their faces when they realized they were free, hadn't been able to hold them and tell them it was over. I hadn't been able to be part of the moment I'd dreamed about for so long.
"I couldn't even be there," I choked out, the words thick with tears. "I couldn't help them escape; I wasn't there.”
"You did everything." Wade's hand moved down my arm until his fingers found the bandage covering my Manchineel burn. He touched it gently. "You did more than enough, Marie. You did this."
His touch moved lower, down the bed, and then he was gently lifting my leg. My darker skin was marked with scrapes and bandages, and my feet had been shredded during my escape through the jungle.
He held my foot carefully, cradled it in his large hands like it wasn’t a foot, and then, impossibly tenderly, he brought my sole to his lips and kissed the bandages.
"You saved them." His voice was quiet but absolute. He kissed my foot again, then started rubbing the marred exposed skin with his thumbs. "These feet ran through the jungle. This body jumped from a moving car. This courage escaped and brought me proof. You saved them, darling. This was all you."
The gesture broke something in me. Fresh tears fell even as warmth and power settled in my heart. He was right. I had done this. Maybe I hadn't been there for the extraction, but I'd made it possible. I’d gathered evidence, escaped, and found help.
I did everything I could with what I had.
"I want to see them," I pleaded, steadier now. Stronger. "Please, Wade. I have to see them."
"Of course." He set my foot down, his knuckles stroking up my calf. "But first, we're getting you dressed properly, bandages changed, and breakfast in you. Then I'll take you to them."
I opened my mouth to insist I was fine and could eat later. I just wanted to go now, but his expression stopped me. Not harsh or controlling, just... knowing. He seemed to understand what I needed even if I didn't, and arguing would be pointless.
I closed my mouth, nodding reluctantly.
"The men who were there," Wade continued, his tone shifting. "The guards, the clients, the staff. They didn't survive the extraction."
I wasn’t shocked. The words should have triggered some moral objection or horror at the violence, but it just felt right. Comforting, even. Like something dangerous had been removed from the world and we could finally breathe easier.
“Okay.” I nodded, feeling strangely confident. Almost powerful. "They deserved it."
Wade's smile was approving, his eyes flickering. He leaned down and kissed me, pulling me out of my dark thoughts and into the heat of his mouth, and the solid reality of his body against mine.
When he pulled back, both of us breathing harder, he stroked my cheek. "Let's get ready to see your girls, my bloodthirsty darling.”
Castellanos. The thought hit me suddenly. Castellanos had been there, had been underground running everything, which meant he was dead too. Gone. The man who'd touched me in that first year, who'd made sure I understood exactly what I was worth, who'd controlled everything—he was dead.
Relief washed over me so strongly that it made me dizzy. I'd never told Wade about him, and I never planned to. That was my past now, buried with everything else from The Sanctuary. And this beautiful, powerful man holding me? He and the girls were my focus.