Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Marie
The facility appeared through the trees like a dream. It was a white stone building nestled into the hillside, surrounded by well-maintained gardens.
There was nothing institutional about it, nothing that screamed medical facility or trauma center. It looked more like a luxury resort with its elegant architecture and natural beauty blending together.
Thomas pulled up to a private entrance with armed security stationed discreetly around the perimeter. Not threatening, but present. Wade said it was secure, and he'd meant it.
"They're in the east wing," He explained as Thomas opened our door. "It's been set up for them with private rooms, common areas, and medical staff on call twenty-four seven.”
He helped me out of the car, his hand steady as I winced slightly stepping down. The shoes were awful, but I pushed through, focusing on the building in front of me and who were waiting inside.
A woman in professional clothes met us at the entrance. Maybe fifty, with kind eyes and a competent air about her.
"Mr. Easton." She nodded respectfully, then turned to me with a warm smile. "And you must be Marie. The girls have been asking about you all morning. I'm Dr. Patricia. I’m overseeing their care."
"How are they?" The question burst out before I could stop it. "Are they okay? Do they have everything they need?"
"They're doing very well, considering." Dr. Patricia gestured for us to follow her inside. "We've provided clothing, toiletries, and medical care. Full psychological evaluations are being scheduled, but we're going slowly to let them adjust at their own pace."
The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior, with warm woods, soft lighting, and artwork on the walls that looked calming. Nothing like a hospital, and most importantly, nothing that would trigger memories of The Sanctuary's underground rooms.
"Birth control?" I asked as we walked down a wide hallway. "And feminine products? Some of them need specific types and doses.”
"Already handled." Her smile was understanding. "We have their medical histories from The Sanctuary's records. The operation team was very thorough in what they retrieved. Every woman has been assessed and provided with appropriate medications and supplies."
I let out a relieved breath and leaned my head against Wade’s arm for a split second. They'd truly thought of everything.
We stopped outside a set of double doors, and through the glass panels, I could see what looked like a large, comfortable living room. Couches and chairs were arranged in conversation areas, large windows overlooked gardens, and there were lots of soft rugs.
And… women. My girls. Some sitting, some standing, all of them wearing comfortable clothes.
"They're waiting for you," Dr. Patricia said gently. "Take all the time you need."
My hand trembled as I reached for the door handle, and Wade's hand covered mine, steadying it. “I’ll be with you the entire time."
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat, and pushed open the door.
Nineteen faces turned toward me as one.
For a moment, no one moved, no one spoke. We all just stared at each other—them seeing me safe and free, me seeing them the same way.
Years of living together underground, of sharing suffering and small moments of joy, and now we were all here. Above ground, in natural light, and free.
Lena stood up first. She looked cleaner, healthier already after just one day of proper food and care. Her hair was brushed and shining, her face free of the constant tension I'd grown used to seeing. She was wearing soft gray loungewear that made her look almost normal.
"Marie, you came back for us.”
"I promised I would." My voice cracked. "I promised I'd get you out."
"You did." Sophia stood next, tears already streaming down her face. "You actually did it."
Then they were moving toward me, not all at once, not overwhelming, but steadily. One by one, they came to me with tears and trembling smiles, their arms wrapping around me carefully, as if they thought we were moments away from shattering.
Or like they were afraid this was a dream we’d wake up from.
"We thought you were dead," Katya said against my shoulder. "When you didn't come back, when they said you'd escaped, we thought they'd killed you."
"I'm okay." I held her tighter, her whole body shaking. "I'm okay, you're okay, we're all okay now."
More women joined, creating a circle around me. They weren’t crushing, they were just present. Sharing space, sharing relief, and I recognized every face.
All of them were here. All of them were safe.
"Did they hurt you?" I asked, pulling back enough to look at them. "When I escaped, did they punish you?"
"No." Lena shook her head firmly. "They were angry, confused, but they didn't hurt us.
They kept asking where you'd gone and who had helped you, but we didn't know anything.
And then..." She gestured around the room.
"Then men came with guns and told us you'd sent them. That you'd escaped and brought help."
"You saved us," Sophia said, her voice breaking. "You actually saved us, Marie."
"I—" I couldn't finish. Couldn't find words for what I was feeling. "I just did what I had to do."
"You did more than that." One stepped forward, always so quiet, but now speaking clearly. "You protected us every day for five years. You took the bad shifts and gave us your food when we were sick. You made sure the worst clients didn't—" Her voice caught. "You did everything you could."
"It wasn't enough." The guilt rose up, choking me. "I still had to send you to them. Still had to make schedules that hurt you."
"You survived." Lena's hand on my shoulder was firm. "And you used your position to keep us alive. Do you think we don't know that? We see what you sacrificed.”
"But I was complicit in—"
"No." Katya's voice was sharp, cutting through my protest. "You were a prisoner just like us. You did what you had to do to survive. That's not complicity, Marie. That's survival."
I looked around at all of them, who'd endured hell, who'd survived because they were strong and refused to break, and they were telling me I wasn't the villain I'd made myself into. That I was one of them, and that I'd helped instead of hurt.
"Thank you," I whispered, not sure what else to say beyond the tightening of my throat. "Thank you for understanding."
"Thank you for not forgetting us." Their eyes were red-rimmed, and their smiles genuine. "Thank you for coming back."
I felt Wade's presence behind me before he spoke, solid and steady, reminding me I wasn't alone in this. I leaned back into him just an inch, accepting his strength.
"Ladies." His voice was warm, respectful. "I'm Wade Easton. I provided the resources for your extraction, but all credit goes to Marie. She's the one who escaped, who gathered evidence. She's the one who saved you."
Nineteen pairs of eyes turned to him, assessing. He cut an imposing figure in his suit, tall and powerful, and clearly wealthy. But he'd positioned himself slightly behind me, making it clear I was the important one here.
"Thank you," Lena said finally, speaking for all of them. "For helping her, for believing her. For giving us our lives back."
"It was my honor." Wade's hand found the small of my back, grounding. "You're all safe now. You'll stay here as long as you need—weeks, months, whatever it may be. Full medical care, psychological support, and when you're ready, we'll help you contact your families."
"Families." The word came out broken from someone in the back. "I have a family?"
"You all do." Wade's voice was gentle. "Marie collected DNA evidence from each of you. We've already cross-referenced with missing persons databases, and your families will be waiting to hear from you when you're ready."
The room erupted in tears and sounds of disbelief. Women clutched each other, some collapsed onto couches, others stood frozen like they couldn't process what they'd just heard.
Eight years for some of them. Eight years of being dead to their families, and now they were alive again.
I stood in the center of it all, watching my girls cry tears of joy instead of pain, watching them hug each other and laugh through their tears, watching them be free.
And I finally let myself believe that I'd done something good.
We stayed for hours, talking, crying, laughing in ways I hadn't thought possible. The girls shared stories about the extraction, how terrified they'd been when men with guns burst in, how one of them had said my name and everything had clicked into place.
They told me about how they'd held each other during the transport to the facility, hardly believing it was real.
I told them about my own escape, the Manchineel burn, jumping from the van, running through the jungle. They called me brave and made me see my actions through their eyes instead of through the lens of guilt I'd been using for so long.
Eventually, the conversation shifted. Sophia asked the question I'd been dreading.
"What about you, Marie?" She was curled up on one of the couches in her soft sweater. "What happens now? Do you have family waiting for you?"
The question hit harder than I expected, and made everything feel so much more real.
"I do." My throat kept tightening. "My dad, my dog," I stopped, swallowing hard. "I haven't seen them in five years. I don't even know if my dad is still—if he's okay."
"He is." Wade's voice came from behind me, steady and certain. "Your father is alive and well, still living in the same house."
The relief was dizzying. "Really?"
"Really." His hand settled on my shoulder. "Honey is eight now, your father is sixty-two, retired from fishing, but still living on the island. He never stopped looking for you."
Tears burned behind my eyes. Papa had kept looking, had kept Honey. He’d waited five years without knowing if I was dead or alive.
"Are you going to see them?" Lena asked gently. "Your family?"