Page 13 of The Demon's Secret Baby

Carefully, I ease the hatch open and slip inside. The stench hits me first – unwashed bodies, fear, and despair. As my eyes adjust to the gloom, I make out huddled forms chained to the walls.

"I'm here to help," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the creaking of the ship. "We're going to get you out of here."

A soft whimper answers me, followed by the rattle of chains as someone shifts. I move closer, my heart racing as I realize just how many captives are crammed into this small space.

I pull a set of lock picks from my belt, my hands shaking slightly as I approach the first captive. The woman's eyes widen in fear, but I put a finger to my lips, silently urging her to stay quiet. The lock is simple, and within seconds, I hear the satisfying click of it opening.

"Follow me," I whisper, helping her to her feet. "Stay low and quiet."

One by one, I move through the hold, freeing the captives. The air grows thick with tension, each clink of the chains setting my nerves on edge. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I have to pause to wipe it away, my heart pounding so loudly I'm sure someone will hear it.

A sudden creak from above freezes us all in place. Footsteps. I hold my breath, counting the seconds as they pass overhead. Once they fade, I motion for the group to move.

We creep towards the hatch, a line of shadows in the dim light. I peer out, scanning the dock for any sign of guards. The coast seems clear, but my gut twists with anxiety. It feels too easy.

"Okay," I breathe, turning to the group. Their faces are etched with fear and hope. "We're going to move fast and quiet. Stay close."

I lead them out onto the dock, my eyes darting everywhere at once. The night air feels cool on my skin after the stuffy hold, but I can't relax. Not yet.

"Okay go!" I hiss.

They move down the dock, keeping their footsteps light but it still sounds loud in the quiet of the night. At the other end of thedock, another person is waiting to guide people down on to the ship, dark against the inky water.

Another woman stands at the helm, helping people onto the boat as fast as she can. Once I see that most have filed on, I double back, wanting to make sure I got everyone. There's no shouts, no sign that anyone has caught what we've done, and I'm not taking any chances.

I slip back onto the ship, my heart pounding in my ears. The wooden planks creak beneath my feet as I move down the narrow hallway, checking each room. The stench of unwashed bodies and fear still lingers in the air, making my stomach churn.

As I round a corner, I hear muffled sobs. My breath catches in my throat. Three more women, huddled in a small, dank cabin, their eyes wide with terror as I enter.

"It's okay," I whisper, fumbling with my lock picks. "I'm here to help."

Their chains fall away with a soft clink. One woman, her face gaunt and bruised, grabs my arm. "Did you get the others?" she rasps.

I nod. "I think so. Come on, we need to move."

We creep along the corridor, every shadow making me flinch. The ship groans and shifts beneath us, and I pray it's just the waves and not someone coming to check on the prisoners.

"Are there any rooms I need to check?" I ask as softly as I can.

The girls point to two rooms I've already emptied, so I just nod and usher them back out the way I came.

Finally, we reach the hatch. The cool night air hits my face as I peer out, scanning the docks. It seems clear, but my gut twists with unease. Something feels off.

"Run," I hiss to the women. "Straight ahead. There's a ship waiting."

They scramble out, their bare feet pattering on the wooden planks. I follow, my eyes darting everywhere at once. The ship is so close, I can see her silhouette.

That's when I hear it. A shout, followed by the pounding of boots.

"Go!" I yell to the women. "Run!"

They sprint towards the ship as I turn, ready to cause a distraction. My mind races, searching for a plan. Maybe I can knock over some crates, start a fire-

A hand clamps down on my shoulder, iron-strong and unforgiving. I try to wrench away, but the grip only tightens.

"Well, well," a low voice growls in my ear. "What do we have here?"

7

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