Page 8 of The Tourist

He passes an envelope across the table to me. My hands tremble slightly as I take it, steeling myself for what I am about to see. The photograph inside shows Serena looking back at me with eyes full of pain and fear. Her face is bruised, her lip split, and her will appears to be broken. Her dead eyes show no signs of the spirited girl who frequently tested my patience. It’s a stark reminder of the cruelty I know she must have endured since her kidnapping six months ago.

“She looks...” My voice trails off, unable to complete the thought.

“I know,” Eaton replies. “It’s hard to see, but this gives us something concrete to go on.”

“How did you get this?” I ask, my eyes still locked on the haunting image of my sister.

I quickly shove the photograph into my jacket pocket, knowing I need to clear my head of the murderous thoughts that threaten to consume me.

“As you already know, after my father’s downfall, I took over all of his businesses and dismantled many of the more lascivious enterprises. Some of his former associates have started talking to me because they know the type of pain and retribution I can inflict upon them. They’re running scared and looking to cut deals. This lead came from one of them. They’ve given me the location of a secluded compound in Columbia. It’s where they think she was taken.”

The mention of Eaton’s father, Richard Armstrong, reignites a spark of anger within me. His network was responsible for Serena’s abduction and the disappearance of her best friend, Chloe. We recently discovered that Armstrong and his associates had been watching my sister for several weeks prior to her abduction, waiting for an opportunity to take her, so when the girls ran away from their bodyguards at the club, my enemy had a team in position to grab them.

Armstrong sent me Serena’s blood and cum-soaked underwear the night after she was taken. I’m not a fool. I understood the message—he’d raped my little sister and taken her innocence.

Thankfully, shortly afterward, he died painfully at the hands of Eaton and Eaton’s wife, Shelby, but Serena and her friend still haven’t been located.

“And Chloe? Is there any news about her?” I ask, clinging to the hope that where we find one, we’ll find the other.

I’ve been in regular contact with Chloe’s parents since she disappeared, trying to reassure them I will rescue her.

Eaton shakes his head. “Nothing yet. But if we can get into this compound and-”

“We will,” I interrupt, determination coursing through me. Nothing’s going to stop me exploring the best lead we’ve had in months. “We have to get inside.”

Our conversation shifts to logistics, and we spend the rest of the evening discussing potential ways to infiltrate the compound and the resources we’ll need. Eaton’s wide-ranging business dealings and varied connections will be invaluable for this operation, and along with the support of his security team, I know he will move heaven and earth to aid in the rescue.

We get up to leave, having finalized our plans, and I feel the weight of my sister’s photograph in my pocket. It will serve as a constant reminder of the high stakes of failure.

“We’ll find her. And Chloe too,” I state, and it’s not a hope. It’s a vow.

Eaton nods, his expression resolute. “We’ll find them. Whatever it takes.”

Exiting the bar, the casino’s vibrant life seems almost surreal. The laughter, cheers, and the sound of chips and dice all belong to another world. For us, the game is deadly. I know the road ahead is fraught with risk and uncertainty, but I will not rest until I find Serena and Chloe.

Dead or alive. In one piece or not.

No matter what, I will bring them both home.

CHAPTER5

Chloe

Iopen my red-rimmed eyes when the overhead light is turned on in the five-foot-by-five-foot room I’ve called my prison cell since I was brought here. It doesn’t even contain a bed. There’s just a narrow, threadbare mattress on the floor.

I’ve survived another night, but rather than rejoice, I want to cry. I’ve had enough of this living hell.

My entire body aches beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before. I never knew there could be so much pain and torture in the world. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. It seems like numerous lifetimes, but it’s probably only been a few months. I stopped counting mornings after thirty days when any hope of getting out of this place had faded.

One day, soon if I’m lucky, death will claim me, and I’ll find peace from all this suffering. Until then, I will have to endure the relentless torture and abuse at the hands of the man who owns me. Eight hundred thousand dollars bought my life and his right to do with it as he and his friends please.

“Buenos días, my little tourist. Did you sleep well?” the man greets me. I don’t know his name. I call him master.

He’s not asking the question with any genuine interest. He doesn’t care. He’s only interested in making sure I’m ready to perform for him. I don’t give him an answer. I don’t have the energy or the desire.

“Get up,” he orders as he kicks me with his pointed leather shoes.

He’s always smartly dressed in a designer suit, tie, and shirt. I hate the way he looks. His accent is thick with Spanish influences, and his complexion suggests he’s from South America.

---