Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
“Find out all you can,” Monster tells me. “We’ll meet in a couple of hours. Bring the info to church, and we’ll plan the best way to do this. I don’t want anyone gettin’ hurt.”
“Will do.”
I focus on the computer spewin’ out names to me, and as I delve deeper into the web, I find more and more missin’ girls. I’m not sure how long I sit in the office, but Miren has brought me somethin’ to eat, and yet, I haven’t moved.
When I open a new browser and get a search runnin’, my software beeps to alert me somethin’ has come up. I glance at the second screen to find a new auction that’s goin’ta be runnin’ on Christmas day.
These feckers have no morals. They’re only focused on the money they make and the lives they destroy. Pullin’ up one email, I note the information that will take us to France. Monster has contacts that can get us there in a few hours, which means we can get ahead of them.
Openin’ the attachments on the email, I find the first one a photo of a girl. Each file has been labelled with a number, which I’m guessin’ is how they identify the captives. They don’t use names, these captives are merely stock to them. Nothin’ more.
I open the next, and the next. Each one printin’ out from beside my computer. We can take these to Scotland Yard, who can then inform the French law enforcement agencies. Assumin’ they’re not in these bastard’s pockets.
When I open the fifth photo, my world tilts on its axis. The room spins, and my ears ring with loud thuds of my pulse. Starin’ back at me is my past. Those familiar eyes are drained of life. There’s no longer a sparkle in her stare.
As her photo prints, I realise there’s no time to sit back and wait. We have to act fast. And I’m goin’ta be front and centre for this.
Pickin’ up the printout, I rush from the office, almost slammin’ into Monster, who’s makin’ his way to his office. He looks at me, and I can tell from the expression of concern I must look like I’ve seen a ghost.
I have.
“We need to get to France now.”
“What are ye talkin’ about?”
I shove the photo at him before sayin’, “She’s in danger. They all are, but she’s…” My words are stuck in my throat, threatenin’ to suffocate me.
“Who is this?” Monster glances at the photo then up at me. “Ye know her?”
“Aye,” I choke out. “She… we were best friends as kids.” My chest tightens when I think about her in danger. When I consider what she may already have been through, my hands fist at my sides. “We have to go find her. I have to be there fer her.”
“Okay,” Monster says with a nod. “But we will plan this out. I’ll call the brothers in now, and we’ll get the details cleared up.”
He’s right. I know he is, but I’m tense. My shoulders are tight, achin’ with the need to rush out of this house right now.
“I can’t let her get sold.”
“We won’t,” Monster assures me. “Family stick together.”
By the time we’re in church, I’m on the edge of my feckin’ seat.
“This is time-sensitive,” Monster says to the men. “I want two of you to stay back, to keep the women here safe. But the rest of us will fly out. I’ve spoken with Judah. The Venier jet is ours to use if we need it. It will be the easiest and quickest way to get there. We’ll also be able to take a handful of bikes and pick up a hired SUV when we land.”
“I say we fly out tonight. The sooner we get there, the more time we have to suss out the property. We’ll have an edge, and they won’t know what hit them.” Sully’s voice booms as he slams his fist on the smooth surface of the table.
I knew they wouldn’t let me down. We are family. We have each other’s backs. And I know that no matter what happens from here on out, we will save those girls.
I will save Einin.
TWO
EININ
I slip on the shorts that hug my bum. They’re like a second skin and don’t hide the fact I’m not wearing any knickers. With the top that cups my breasts, it’s a matching set of perfectly sculpted underwear. I may as well be wearing nothing at all. They could have painted parts of my body, and I’d feel less exposed.
My body has transformed over the years. But the sadness that has kept a hold of me all this time is still there, ever present. I’ve become accustomed to ignoring it. Where I focus rather on the numbness than the emotion. As we head into the end of another year where my life is nothing more than a reminder of being taken, used, trained, I wonder if it’s time to stop fighting for my freedom.