Page 40 of Second Chances

Will I walk again?

Will my mother love me again?

The last question rips a sob from my mouth. I’ve only seen my mother once since I came out of hospital a few weeks ago. She popped in to check on me for tea, but I suspect it was more to invite Miranda to join a social gathering arranged later that day. I’m sure it would be a feather in her cap to have someone of Miranda’s stature and wealth, albeit through her son, attend as her guest. Miranda declined. I heard her and Pete discussing it later, saying how appalled they were that my mother was more concerned about making it to afternoon tea than helping out her daughter. I didn’t really think anything about it—I was used to it. It’s the way my mother’s been ever since the accident. She blames me for being a failure and hurting myself. If only I’d paid more attention on the ice, none of this would have happened…I’d be a prima ballerina just as my mother wanted me to be.

My mother wanted me to be.The phrase repeats in my head.

Had I really wanted that as my career choice?

I guess I’ll never know the truth now. Fate took that path away from me, and I’m not about to let it take another away again. This time it’s different. The doctors tell me there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be up and dancing again soon if I follow their advice. I’ll stop at nothing to get my fitness back. I make a vow to myself then and there.

A warm fire has been lit. Shifting around, I make my way unaided to the end of the sofa with the diary in hand and throw it onto the burning logs. The flames dance and lick their way around the paper before engulfing it in a whoosh of flames. No more will I ask questions to which there are no answers. My mother may never love me again, but I have people who do, and I’ll fight this latest setback with their help. That’s all I need—the inspiration of my family and friends. I didn’t have that before, but this time, they’ll help me overcome and flourish.

Chapter Eighteen

Ryan

“Welcome everyone. We have a large selection of woman available for you to choose from today. Shall we get this started with Emily from London? She’s eighteen and not a virgin but has been properly taught by her family on the ways of managing a household. She passed the fertility testing we subjected her to so will be ready to produce future soldiers as soon as she’s purchased. Shall I start the bidding at ten thousand pounds?” The emcee for the evening introduces the first girl, and my stomach turns. How can anyone want to treat another human being like this? None of the money offered for her here will go to her family. They’ve already received payment for her, and it was nothing like the thousands being asked for her now. All the money will go toward the profits of my boss with a generous donation to the soldiers fighting against my country. It sickens me.

The first girl is sold for forty thousand pounds, and they bring forward another one. She’s a virgin and the figures instantly double. A hundred thousand pounds later and she’s sold to one of the older soldiers. It amazes me how the people doing the purchasing get their money. It must be a profitable business fighting for a misguided cause. Then again, none of the people in this room are the actual foot soldiers. These are the generals, and the girls they purchase will be sampled by them first before they are bound in marriage to a common soldier for life. I’ve seen enough.

With a flick of a button, I relay all the information to my superiors at MI5, and they in turn alert those surrounding the building. In a few minutes, they will storm in and stop this degrading sale. I’ll be arrested as well but released later when we’re at a safe location. It’s all part of the mission plan. Hopefully foolproof and designed down to the minutest detail.

Next the quiet girl from earlier is brought up onto the stage, and a bidding war immediately starts for her with mind blowing amounts of money being offered. She’s a second-generation soldier’s wife. Her mother was sold at a similar age, and the boys who resulted from the union went on to become fighters. As the only female, the girl was given to her grandparents in London to be taught and prepared for this day. The perfect toy for these men. However, I sense things are about to go wrong when my boss, Farooq, gets to his feet and offers the sum of one million. Everyone falls silent. This isn’t right. I don’t understand what’s happening. Why is he purchasing a girl? He could have just had her at the start if that’s what he wanted.

I step closer to the stage as Farooq ascends the steps to claim his prize. Nobody would dare outbid him in this arena. He inherited the business after previous incumbents at MI5 killed his father during a raid. On reaching the girl, he nods my way with a salacious smirk.

“I thought it was about time I started a family,” he addresses the crowd. “This one’s perfect.” He presses a kiss to the terrified girl’s lips just as the doors burst open, and the men supporting my mission flood in.

“Nobody move!” the operative leading the raid shouts. The guns of the MI5 team are pointed at all of us in the room—the red dot of a position target on our foreheads. Terrified men around me start to drop their weapons, wanting no part in resisting capture. Several men push their guns into their mouths and pull the triggers—at least it’s less paperwork for us that way. A few of the girls are screaming, and the operatives move quickly to placate them while securing those who need arresting. One of the team approaches me. I know I’m about to be arrested, but when I turn my head slightly, I see Farooq has disappeared along with the girl.

Shit, shit, shit.

How was it possible?

Unless he knew what was about to happen? Was that why he purchased the girl? It placed him up on the stage and gave him the ability to disappear unseen when the moment came. Fuck, he must have suspected me all along. I can’t let him get away. Thinking and reacting in a split second, I slam the barrel of my weapon into the face of the operative about to arrest me, and he reels back in shock. It’s not something he was expecting. I’m on the stage in a second and dodging a bullet flying my way from another equally shocked MI5 team member. I was supposed to come quietly, not fight like this. They’ve no idea what’s going on. I manage to get through the curtains at the back of the stage and disappear into the darkness. Men thunder after me, but my determination gives me an advantage.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The voice comes through the concealed earpiece I’m wearing, which has allowed me to relay everything back to my superiors during the mission.

“Target A is gone. I’m finding him,” I reply back.

“No, stand down. He won’t get far.”

“He’s got a girl.”

“Stand down.” The terse response comes back at me, but I ignore it.

“Negative. I’m going after them.”

I pull the piece from my ear before I get more orders I don’t plan on obeying.

“I know you’re here?” I shout in the native language of the person I’m pursuing. “Let the girl go, it’s over.”

A gunshot fires, and a bullet skims past my head and imbeds in the wall behind me.

That was a close one. My heart skips a beat, and I let out a deep breath.

“Traitor.” The word is called from the darkness, but it carries, and I’m able to pinpoint the position of my target. “I trusted you, and you’re one of them.”

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