Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I lean forward, voice low. “Let me clarify the stakes. You’re already facing life for kidnapping and assault. If those women are harmed, I’ll make sure ‘life’ means you never see daylight again. And if you cooperate, maybe the Feds will forget to prosecute you on the cartel’s behalf.”
His smirk twitches. Good. Crack.
He shrugs. “I’m locked up. How could I do anything?”
Dean slides a printout across the table: Wade’s recorded jail call transcript. “You instructed an associate to deliver a ‘package’ and ‘collect collateral.’ Who’s the associate?”
Wade’s pupils dilate. He licks his lips. “You got no leverage. Without me, you got nothing.”
I inhale slowly. “You think the cartel protects you? You’re liability now. They’ll ghost you the first chance they get. Help us, you might get witness protection.”
He scoffs. “I’m dead either way.”
“Not yet,” I say softly. “But they took Charlotte alive for leverage, not execution. Help us intercept, we rescue her, you live to cut a deal.” I pause, letting him feel the weight. “Or we find them without you, and you rot alone.”
The silence drags. Wade’s right knee bounces. I smell the fear.
He finally speaks, voice cracked. “I only know the middleman—calls himself Diego.”
Dean’s eyes flash. “Last name?”
“Don’t know.” Wade swallows. “He said he’d ‘handle the retrieval’ if I kept quiet.”
I push. “Location?”
“Warehouse district near the port. I gave him an entry code to my family’s old cold-storage facility. Block C.”
Dean slips out, already on the phone to tactical. I stand. “Smart choice, Wade. Stay alive.”
He slumps, chains rattling as the guard leads him out. I step into the hall, and Dean nods once meaning the SWAT team is mobilizing.
I breathe in deep. Hold on, Charlotte. I’m coming.
35
Charlotte
The cold seeps through the metal walls of the storage container, a sharp chill that numbs my fingertips and seeps into my bones. I shiver, tugging at the rough ropes binding my wrists, but they're unforgiving. Every movement chafes my skin, and a quiet, desperate sigh escapes me.
Melanie sits curled against me, shaking quietly. Her breathing hitches, muffled sniffles escaping despite her attempts to hold back the tears. I shift closer, wrapping my bound hands awkwardly around her trembling shoulders. It's all I can offer. Warmth, comfort, reassurance, but right now, it feels painfully inadequate.
"I'm so sorry, Charlotte," Melanie whispers, her voice breaking into tiny fragments. "This is all my fault. I can't believe how stupid I was."
"Hey, don't," I murmur firmly, pressing my cheek to her temple. "It's not your fault."
"But it is," Melanie insists, guilt thickening her voice. She draws in a shuddering breath. "I should never have trusted him. What kind of idiot falls for a guy she's never even met? Online of all places. I put us both in danger."
My heart tightens painfully. I want to tell her it's okay, but words fail me. I wish I could erase her pain, her guilt. But truthfully, I'm just as scared as she is. This isn't her fault, it's Diego’s—and the thought of him makes my blood run cold.
"It's his fault, Mel, not yours," I say softly, my throat dry, gritty from the dust in the stale air. "You trusted him. He used you. This is on him."
She lifts her head slightly, her eyes shimmering in the faint sliver of grayish light seeping beneath the door. "I feel so betrayed. Charlotte, I really thought he was different. I was falling for him."
I squeeze her gently, ignoring the ache in my arms. "That's what he wanted, Mel. He manipulated you, manipulated us. But we'll get through this. Asher will find us. He has to."
Even as I say the words, a shadow of doubt creeps into my chest. Does Asher even know we're missing? Does he realize yet that the idyllic safety we felt at the condo was shattered overnight? I picture him discovering us gone, the panic in his eyes, and it twists something deep inside me.
What if it's too late? What if Diego moves us before Asher has a chance to act? What if we're shipped away, and we’re never found? A chill skates over my skin.
I swallow back the fear rising like bile in my throat, forcing myself to focus on Melanie instead. I can't afford to crumble, not when she needs me. One of us has to stay strong.
Melanie shifts slightly, biting her lip. "Do you think Asher even knows we're gone yet?"
I hesitate, fighting to keep my voice steady. "He has to. By now, he has to know. And he won't stop until he finds us. I promise."
My words sound hollow, even to me, echoing weakly against the corrugated walls. I glance around the container once again, desperation building. It's empty, stripped bare except for us—no windows, no obvious exit besides the heavy, bolted door. Every inch of this steel box screams hopelessness.
Minutes stretch into what feels like hours, the quiet darkness amplifying our fears. My body aches from the cold and my awkward position on the hard floor. My mind races, circling through scenarios, each more terrifying than the last.