CHAPTER 24 FAE
FAE
Ican’t work out whether the church feels more haunted in the evening or the morning. Either way, I will never get used to this place. My body shivers every time I step over the threshold, like God himself knows I am too impure to be here. That is, if there even is a God.
Ever since I realised Roman’s dad was the priest here, I have had questions.
Mainly… why? He owns several pharmaceutical companies and is a founding member of The Company, so what makes the church so special that he works here as a priest too?
Is it atonement for his sins, public opinion, or does he really believe in God?
Whatever it is, it works for us and Mr. Longstaff is always kind to me.
I have watched how he interacts with his wife and I envy it at times. I can see where Roman gets his softness from. It’s not softness per se, more an understanding of how to treat women and in a world as cruel as this, only his dad could have taught him that. In a way, I should thank him.
The best three weeks of my life started with a murder in plain sight.
With initiation tomorrow I know our time is coming to an end.
I feel bitter about it. I never thought I would.
I thought I could walk away and thank Roman for the memories without being affected but now I know how unrealistic that is.
Out of everything we have found out over the last few weeks, everything that was done to me over the course of my life, I know this will hurt the most. There have been times I have wanted to ask him who his promised is, but then something happens and I don’t want to burst my bubble.
Soon, I will lose them all, which is probably why Felix didn’t want me and Roman together.
The thought of visiting my brother and seeing Roman with someone else in the kitchen makes me feel physically sick.
I have to remind myself not to think about it before I spiral.
The church is quiet when we step inside, but not the peaceful kind.
It’s the heavy kind. It is always the heavy kind.
Roman’s hand rests against the small of my back as we walk down the aisle.
I love how protected it makes me feel, like he needs to touch me to stay grounded.
I’m not stupid, I know he has autism. Felix told me a couple of years ago, so I know touch is a big deal for him.
It feels nice that he feels safe enough to reach for me.
The scent of old wood and candles clings to the air as dust drifts in the weak light.
Making our way through the secret tunnel, I realise they are already here.
Felix stands near the fire pit with his sleeves rolled up, his jaw tight.
I have never felt more distant from him than I do right now.
Not even when he stopped coming home. At least then, when he did see me, he saw me.
Now it’s like his body is here but his mind is somewhere else.
Riggs leans against one of the walls, arms crossed, looking less like a joker and more like a killer in his black-on-black outfit.
Atlas is pacing, which he only does when something is bothering him, and Victor… Victor is still, too still.
Roman’s hand finally drops from my back as we walk into the room and the atmosphere shifts as they turn to us.
The boys don’t greet me and for a brief moment I wonder if I belong here.
This always happens. My shoulders might be square, my chin high, my steps steady, but it’s the voice inside my head that I fight the most. The one that tells me everyone would be better off without me here, that I’m not good enough to be around these people, that no one will miss me when I go to the compound.
No matter how many times they reassure me, I’m not sure I will ever believe them.
Only one of us can be right and soon we will find out who that is. I think it’s me.
“Before Father transfers over the business, I needed to make sure I was organising people loyal to me,” Felix says as soon as we get close, like he has been waiting to get this out.
“I had a call from one of my contacts at the docks. There are shipment logs that don’t match the manifest, vans going inland that aren’t registered to any of our companies, shift changes that were not pre-approved…
” He looks at Roman, holding his gaze as I glance between them.
“You think Father is running a ring out of our shipping company?” It was meant to be an inside thought, but my mouth opens before my brain catches up.
“Yes,” Felix responds simply. “Dr. Fisher and Father are, without a doubt, working together.”
“Where are these vans going?” Riggs asks, his knee bouncing.
“The warehouse Jack told us about in Clacton.”
My stomach dips at Felix’s admission. The words land like a stone.
Clacton-on-Sea is about thirty-five minutes from Coggeshall.
It’s a quiet, mostly forgotten seaside town.
In the summer, everyone remembers it and takes a family trip, but in winter it turns into a ghost town, except for locals.
The location is perfect. Busy enough that no one questions vans going in and out, and quiet enough that no one pays attention.
It’s also close enough to move the girls back and forth if needed and an uneasy feeling crawls across my skin. Atlas stops pacing and turns to Felix.
“You think they are holding them there?” he asks.
“I have reason to believe it. It’s our best shot, rather than going from warehouse to warehouse and ending up empty-handed.”
He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, tossing it onto the bench in front of him.
We all move closer. A grainy aerial printout of a corrugated roof, fenced perimeter, and single access road spreads out before us.
Heat spots show up inside the building. I count five, but I’m not sure if that’s security or victims.
Victims.
My breath stutters and I take a small step back. Could Robyn be in there? Or someone else? We’ve been chasing ghosts for weeks that I never stopped to think about what it would feel like if we actually found people. Luckily, Felix has already sorted the logistics for a rescue.
Victor has connections in America who said they would help with rehabilitation for anyone we bring out.
Our main objective is to find them and convince them to come with us, which will be easier said than done.
I was never locked in warehouses with God knows what done to me, but it still took me a long time to realise what was really happening.
What if the people we find are happy, or believe they are?
What if they’re too scared to leave? What if they don’t trust us?
So many things could go wrong that it makes me uneasy.
Roman steps closer to the paper, his eyes scanning it like he’s memorising every entry and exit.
“You’ve got eyes on security?” he asks.
“From what I can tell, it’s light during the day and heavier at night. Two rotating patrols. Cameras on the north and west side, and a blind spot near the loading dock.”
Roman nods and steps back, our arms brushing as he looks down at me, a small frown pulling at his features.
“It could be nothing,” Riggs says, exhaling slowly.
“It’s not nothing,” Victor mutters. “It’s something. Please tell me we’re going tonight. We have initiation tomorrow and I don’t know when I’ll be free again. I can’t have this hanging over my head.”
Felix looks at Roman. It’s like some unwritten rule that Roman is their leader. It’s not like we don’t all have roles, but his detachment from emotion means he makes logical decisions, while the rest of us run on instinct. Roman nods once. I count to ten in my head before he speaks.
“Start planning, Felix. It’s a good lead, we can’t be twiddling our thumbs. We move in two hours. I want none of our normal phones and none of the company vehicles. We do this clean, quickly, and silently.”
We all echo his sharp nod and move apart to prepare for what could be our first rescue.
I am just strapping on the last of my knives when Atlas steps up behind me.
I glance over my shoulder and give him a small smile as his eyes soften and he pulls me into a hug.
My chest constricts. Initiation is tomorrow, the warehouse is tonight.
Whatever fragile illusion of normality I’ve built over the last three weeks is cracking down the middle like an iceberg and I can’t stop it.
“You don’t have to come,” he mumbles.
The words almost make me laugh. Don’t have to?
I want to. I need to. I won’t live with myself if I don’t do everything I can to save the Robyns and the mes of this world.
I know he means well, he always does. But I could never sit still knowing there might be girls in a cage somewhere only thirty minutes from me.
“I’m coming,” I say, tilting my head up to meet his eyes and giving him a firm smile.
If he needs reassurance, I can give it to him.
I know he’s worried. I saw it when I walked in and I feel it in the way he’s holding me now, but for the first time in my life I’m not facing the monsters alone.
I have never felt more sure of anything.
By the time we reach Breakwater Way, the sky is the colour of bruised skin.
Anchor Point Industrial Estate sits on the edge of Clacton like an afterthought, a stretch of corrugated metal units and flickering security lights bordered by scrub and marshland.
The sea isn’t visible from here, but I can still smell it, the salt carried on the wind, mixing with oil and damp concrete.
We are here for unit 14, but it doesn’t stand out.
I think that’s the worst part. Like evil should have a warning sign.
Instead, it’s ordinary, just like everything else around it and if you don’t want to look, you will never find out.
The roller shutter is pulled halfway down.
There is no signage, no company name. Just a security light above the entrance that hums faintly, casting a weak yellow cone over cracked tarmac.
A white transit van is parked two units down, mud covering the back doors like it’s been through the back roads.
We continue past, following Atlas’ van towards the edge of the estate where it gives way to scrubland.
His van rolls to a halt first, half hidden behind a stack of pallets and a rusted skip like he’s done this a hundred times.
Roman eases our car in behind him, killing the lights and engine.
The only sound I can hear is our measured breaths, my heartbeat, and the soft tick of cooling metal.
I step out into the wind and it hits me like a wet slap.
The salt, cold, and faint tang of diesel mingle in my nostrils.
My boots crunch on the grit of the tarmac as I take a deep, centring breath.
This is the part that always makes me grin, a sharp edge of satisfaction I never let anyone see.
This is the transition. I go from Fae, the girl who can laugh and ache and want things she shouldn’t.
To Fae the weapon who is groomed to survive, to compartmentalise, to kill.
My fingers flex inside my gloves as I roll my shoulders once, letting my spine settle into that familiar alignment.
My headspace isn’t rage anymore. It’s emptiness.
A place where emotion is a luxury and mercy is a liability.
Roman’s gaze flicks to me as he shuts the car door silently.
I don’t think he will ever get used to this version of me, not when he sees me so weak, so needy, so emotional.
His eyes drag over my body as I give him a single nod.
We’ve done this dance so many times over the last week that it almost feels natural.
Atlas is already at the back of his van and we make our way over to his portable command centre. The screens glow, painting his face a ghostly blue as he plugs in the receiver. Riggs and Victor hover close, their weapons low and their eyes scanning the estate as if the shadows might get brave.
“The drone is up,” Atlas murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath.
A soft whirr rises into the air, almost swallowed by the wind. On the screen, the industrial estate becomes a greyscale map. The roads look like scars, the alleyways like veins as Atlas’ fingers move over the trackpad.
“Two patrols,” he continues. “There is an extra body by the front gate and one by the main shutter. Another is moving through units 12 and 14 every…” Atlas checks his watch. The wait stretches before he continues, “Ninety seconds.”
“Back entrance?” Victor asks and Atlas presses a few more buttons before zooming in.
“Rear service door has motion sensor lights. Two cameras angled wide and there’s a blind wedge here.” He taps a corner of the building, showing us the angles on his monitors. “Fence line looks intact, but there’s a gap behind the scrub. Maybe someone’s been through recently.”
“Course they have,” Riggs exhales through his nose.
“That could mean anything, Riggs,” I say. “Maybe someone managed to get away.”
He inhales sharply, then nods, pulling his gun out and checking the magazine again.
Felix appears at my side, like a shadow that learned how to walk.
His jaw is tense, his eyes hard. He bends down and kisses me on the cheek, and I lean in to hug him.
I can see how stressed he is. He has never liked the plan of me going in without him, but he is logistics for a reason.
He and Atlas work so well together that without him watching through the camera, this operation could go terribly wrong.
I know it hasn’t felt like that before, since all the other places have been empty, but this time it’s different. And he knows it.
Comms click softly in my ear as everyone checks in. A tiny light blinks under jackets and collars, I touch the earpiece hidden beneath my hair. Roman’s voice comes through, low, calm, and threaded with steel.
“Check.”
“Check,” I whisper back.
“Front team ready,” Victor’s voice comes next.
“Try not to get your new shirt ruined, Fae,” Riggs adds, giving me a cheeky wink, which makes the heaviness lift a bit.
When Riggs doesn’t joke it affects us all. It is unfair to put it on him, but it’s true. Without his light-heartedness, we would all be live wires waiting to explode.
“Worry about your own blood, Riggs,” I sass back, matching his wink as a quiet huff comes through my earpiece.
I look at Roman and see a small smirk on his face. When he sees me looking, a brilliant smile breaks free, showcasing those dimples that I love. Love. My breath hitches. Now is not the time to think those sorts of words.
“Let’s roll out,” Roman demands and we get out of the van as I give Atlas and Felix a quick kiss on the cheek while they hold their position, monitoring and calling out movement.