Page 72 of On Your Knees

The room around me feels like a blur, but the steady pounding of footsteps brings me back to the harsh reality of where I am. Men rush back and forth, their movements brisk and calculated. Their heavy boots thud against the concrete floor, the sound echoing through the warehouse like gunfire. They’re too busy, too focused on whatever sick operation they’re running to pay attention to us—the women, the captives, chained like livestock.

I force my eyes to focus, scanning my surroundings, trying to make sense of it all. There are more women than I’d realized, each one bound like me, huddled in despair. Some are crying softly, their sobs blending into the background noise of thishellish place. Others are silent, their eyes wide and hollow, too far gone to process the horror anymore. I don’t know if they’ve been here for hours or days, but the look in their eyes tells me they’ve given up.

I can’t. I won’t.

Christopher’s words still ring in my ears, and the cold detachment in his voice makes my stomach churn.Business. That’s all this is to him. Selling women, trafficking them to the highest bidder, like they’re nothing but merchandise. My heart pounds against my ribs, and fear tightens its grip around my chest, but beneath the terror, something else starts to simmer. Anger.

How could he?

I grit my teeth, the anger giving me a sliver of strength. I won’t go down like this. I can’t let him win. I have to get out of here, for Nate. For all of us.

The warehouse is vast, the walls towering over us like prison gates. It looks like it hasn’t been used for its intended purpose in years. There’s rust stains streaking down from the metal beams, and cracks running like veins across the concrete floor. Old, broken machinery lines one side of the room, collecting dust and cobwebs. The only light comes from a few flickering bulbs strung haphazardly along the ceiling, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. It’s not much, but it gives me just enough visibility to scan the exits.

There—along the far wall. A door. It looks like an old loading dock, rusted but intact. I make a mental note of it, though the thought of trying to get that far feels impossible with my handsbound and Christopher and his men patrolling the room like vultures.

As I sit there, trying to figure out a plan, Christopher moves back into my line of sight, casually talking with one of the armed men like this is just another day at the office for him. My stomach churns with revulsion. The man I thought I knew—the man I once loved—is gone. He was never real. And now, all that’s left is this monster.

My thoughts drift to Benedict. Is he really an F.B.I. agent? Or was Christopher lying?

I don’t know who to trust, or what to believe. Did Benedict lie to me?

What if I wasn't a priest?The words he said to me flutter through my consciousness.

I’d give anything to see his face once more. Those blue eyes, gazing at me with love. He loves me, right? I know I love him.

I’ve never felt that way about anyone before in my life, and fresh tears stream down my face at the thought of never seeing him again.

I shift again, my muscles aching, my wrists throbbing as I test the zip ties. No give. They’re too tight, and I’m too weak to break free. But I can’t just sit here. My mind races, trying to think of anything—anything—that could help me get out of this.

One of the men, tall and built like a linebacker, steps closer to me. His eyes scan the group of women, lingering too long on each one. I shrink back instinctively, trying to make myself small, invisible. But I know that won’t save me. Nothing about this situation is safe.

My thoughts go to Nate. I need to get back to him. I need to know he’s okay. Christopher said he’s safe, but how can I trust a single word out of that man’s mouth?

I close my eyes, just for a moment, and take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. I have to stay sharp. I have to stay focused. Because if I don’t, if I give in to the fear threatening to swallow me whole, I’ll never make it out of here alive.

Chapter 37

Benedict

We pull up to the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Saint Pierce, the one near the marina where Christopher’s operation is supposedly going down. The tension in the air is thick, heavier than the salty breeze blowing in from the water. I take a deep breath, steadying myself for what’s about to happen. This isn’t just another bust. It’s personal. Eva’s inside, along with who knows how many other women. And we’re going to get them out.

Vin’s already out of the SUV, crouched low beside the vehicle, his gun resting against the hood as he surveys the perimeter. His face is a mask of determination, but I can see the same urgency burning in his eyes that I feel in my gut. We don’t have time to waste.

“He’s in there,” Vin says, his voice low but certain, like it’s an undeniable fact. He places his gun on the hood, double-checkingthe chamber, his movements deliberate and calm, though I know he’s just as wired as I am.

I glance down at the blueprint spread across the hood of the SUV. Davis, our tech guy, points to an interior wall marked with a red pen. “There’s about ten men inside, give or take,” Davis says, his finger tracing the area where Christopher’s goons are likely stationed. “They’ve got the women lined up along this wall here. We need to be quick before any of them get spooked.”

Ten men. A lot of women. My mind immediately snaps to Eva, and my grip tightens on the edge of the blueprint. The thought of her in there, chained up like some kind of animal, makes my blood boil. But I can’t let emotion cloud my judgment. Not now.

“There are two exits,” Vin continues, his voice steady as he secures his Kevlar vest in place. He points to the side of the building. “One here, at the front, and another in the back by the loading dock. Both are being watched, but we can make a breach.”

I nod, pulling my vest tighter, checking the weight of the Glock at my side. My pulse quickens as the gravity of the situation settles in. This is it. We have to move fast, no room for error.

“They’ve got the women along this wall, closest to the loading dock,” Davis reiterates, pointing to the section of the blueprint. “We’ll have to be careful—we don’t want any stray bullets.”

Vin glances over at me. “We hit them hard and fast, straight through the front. Once we’re inside, I’ll cover the east side, you take the west. We need to neutralize Christopher and his men before they realize what’s happening.”

“And the women?” I ask, my throat tight.

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