Page 44 of Under His Protection

“Partly,” he says and gazes at me indifferently.

“Are you even sure Alexander’s father killed him?”

“Damn sure,” he says, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. “That stupid drug addict met my brother for a deal. Blew his head off.”

“So your brother was a drug dealer?”

“We all need to make a living, don’t we?” he laughs, a cold sound that makes my skin crawl.

“And now Alexander gets punished for it?”

“Well, his deadbeat dad isn’t alive anymore, is he?” Cole says, his eyes hardening. “And the best way to make a Bourne man suffer is to make his women suffer. Taking away something he loves.”

A muscle in my jaw unclenches. Maybe— just maybe Alexander is still alive.

The men surrounding us laugh, their amusement a grotesque chorus. Two more of Cole’s men appear at my side. “Come on, girls,” one of them growls. “It’s time for a change of scenery.”

They shove us into a freight elevator. The metal walls are cold against my back and smell like oil and grease. We descend, the elevator shuddering with each floor, my stomach churning with the movement.

The doors finally slide open, and we enter a vast space. The air smells of salt water, diesel fuel, and rotting fish. The sound of machinery and clanging metal reverberates through the ample space. Crates are stacked high, their wooden surfaces bearing faded labels from distant ports. Forklifts rumble back and forth, their headlights cutting through the gloom. It looks like an indoor harbor, a hidden world of illicit trade.

What the hell is this place? I shudder.

“In here,” one of the men says, shoving us toward a large metal shipping container. Its doors open, revealing a dark interior. Thick ropes tie the door together. It looks strange, off somehow.

My eyes catch a glint of silver on the floor, a discarded razor blade gleaming in the harsh light of the overhead spotlights. I exchange a look with Michelle, a silent plea in my eyes. Her gaze flickers to the blade, then back to me, a knowing nod.

She’s got it.

As the men move to herd us toward the large metal container, Michelle explodes, a human bomb of fury.

“Let us go!” she screams, her voice a raw, desperate howl. She throws herself against one of the men, her body a whirlwind of rebellion. As she struggles, I quickly slip the blade into my pocket, its cold edge sharp against my bare skin.

“Enough!” Cole shouts, his voice sharp and commanding. “Grab her.” The men move quickly, overwhelming Michelle. They hold her from all sides, their grip tight, their movements efficient. Someone shoves us toward the large metal container, but I can’t figure out who.

I step inside, my eyes struggling to adjust to the weak light. The air is thick and stale, and it smells faintly of something metallic. I can hear whispers and voices in languages I don’t understand.

I see figures huddled together, their faces pale and drawn. Their wide and terrified eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment before darting away.

My gaze scans the space. The container feels unnaturally cramped, and I can barely grasp the details. A few shadows, a jumble of blankets, a few backpacks thrown carelessly on the floor. My mind tries to make sense of it. They’re huddled together, but why? What’s happening?

Then, my eyes land on the girl in the corner. Her face is a mask of terror. Then I notice a fresh tattoo on her arm, a red mark shaped like a mini serpent. My breath catches. That tattoo. It’s the same symbol I saw on one of Cole’s men in the “red room.” He marked her, branded her.

Suddenly, it clicks. The whispered language, the terrified expressions, the cage-like container. They’re trapped, captured, imprisoned.

My gaze shifts to Cole, standing beside the shipping container, watching us with a chilling detachment. A smug satisfaction plays on his lips.

“Let them out,” I scream. “Let all of us out!”

Cole steps closer to me, his face inches from mine. “Sshhh, Ava, you’re scaring my girls.”

“You animal!”

“I’m so glad I got to sample you at the office,” he grunts. “Your pussy is sweet enough to enjoy in Moscow’s lower districts.”

“Cole, don’t do this,” I plead, my voice cracking.

“Oh, but I already have,” he laughs, shoving Michelle and me inside, slamming the door shut, plunging us into darkness.

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