Page 4 of Manacled Hearts

Will they know what that is? What I’m leaving behind?

It’s silly to ponder, but surrounded by all these well-dressed, clean men, I experience an incredibly overwhelming sense of inferiority.

Someone brings a chair, and I’m urged to take a seat. I stifle a groan when I settle on the basic wooden structure that shouldn’t feel like anything special, but after sitting on the floor of a shipping container for God knows how long, this is heaven.

“I’ll do it. If there’s more,” I glance toward the inside of the container, “I want to find them. But it has to happen fast. I can’t risk them getting… I can’t.” I sigh, forcing the images of what could be done to them out of my mind.

“I know. I understand,” the one dressed in all black answers.

When I look at him, I swear my soul stalls. He has black eyes, too, like a dark devil. He stands here, and the anger simmering just beneath the surface is all kinds of wrong. Disturbing.

He says something about a tracker and my gaze wanders to another man I only catch a glimpse of before he turns on his heels and rushes toward a door.

“We’re going to put a tracker on you. It’s going to be small. You might have to swallow it or—” The black-eyed man stops short, as if he’s thinking.

“It’s okay. I’ll do whatever it takes. Slice me open and put it under my skin. I don’t care. Just… help them.”

Guilt has a louder voice than my logic, and I think it’s why I’m so driven to sacrifice myself now. Closing my eyes, I take a deep, centering breath, but I startle when someone asks my name.

“Evelyn,” I answer, though it comes out more like a whisper.

My gaze wanders around the space but settles on the blonde man with sun-kissed curls, and I have to swallow one too many times as his broken, blue gaze pins me in place.

“How old are you?” he asks.

I wasn’t mistaken before—sadness definitely hides behind his anger.

“Seventeen.” I turn toward the container. “My sister is seven.” This is not a piece of information I thought I would share, but it might work as motivation for them. Appeal to their compassionate side—if they have one.

“Fucking hell.” His voice lowers with a different type of fury. An uncontrollable one. Maybe I was successful.

“We’ll get you all out. That’s a promise. But you have to be strong. I just don’t know what will happen as soon as you’ll arrive wherever they’re taking you,” the black-eyed one says. He’s convincing in his uncomfortably honest tone.

I flinch when he reaches over and attempts to soothe me, his hand touching my shoulder. I’m not sure why, but my gaze shifts to the buzz-cut man who stands firm next to me. Maybe I’m going crazy, but for some reason, I think I’m looking for reassurance from him. How bizarre.

Yet, I get exactly that. His eyes reveal the gentlest, most tragic gaze. He’s built like a beast, but all I see is compassion and warmth in his gaze.

“Will they—will they get to the children?” I all but whisper. I don’t want the kids to hear me.

“I really hope not, but I don’t want to lie to you.”

It was a stupid question I can’t believe I asked. They’re not psychic. How are they supposed to know?

“I understand.”

“Where did they take you from?” the one standing beside me asks.

“Various places. We’re not all from the same city… They just brought us all to the same place. My sister and I, they took us when I was picking her up from school after work.”

“What about your parents? They must be looking for you.”

I hesitate. We need to be saved, but we can’t be sent back to Fleeton. Not until I figure it all out. Will they hand us over to CPS? I’m over-thinking this. I need to take it one step at a time.

“They, um—It’s only us two.” I stop to wipe from my cheeks tears I didn’t realize were falling. “I can’t fail her.”

“You won’t. We’ll get you out before anything happens,” the blonde one promises, and once again, I’m fully trapped in his gaze.

It’s so different from everyone else’s in this room. Emotional and tragic. Why is he reacting so differently than the others, even though they all look cut from the same cloth?

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