Page 32 of The Enforcer's Redemption

"No one else was injured. You should be proud of yourself." He's angry, and rightly so. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Isla," I grunt, attempting to sit up, but Maeve's bloody hand presses me down.

"Stay there. You lost a lot of blood." She twists my wrist and shows me the IV leading into my veins through the back of my hand. "You need this last unit, and you should thank Lochlan for donating." Even Maeve sounds annoyed at me, but I put Ronan at risk and I'm sure she's heard the whole story. "Stay there until I say you can get up. And then both of you need rest. You’ll never find her if you're dead. You know that, right?"

"And mistakes happen when you're too tired," Ronan adds. "I'll see you at first light, and we'll go about this a different way. I already have my sources working…"

Ronan walks out, and I let my eyes flutter shut. I'm exhausted and in pain, but I'm in good hands. I just don't know how they expect me to sleep when I know what Sebastian is capable of and Isla is out there, probably terrified.

"I'm coming," I whisper to her, but I don't know if it's audible or in my dream.

24

ISLA

The dress is soaked with sweat, the fabric sticking to my skin like a second skin I can’t peel away. That crude man did not give me clean clothes like he said, so I put it back on. My body aches, bruises from where they shoved me around. I’m tired, but sleep won’t come—not with the way they’ve been treating me. I try not to think about it, but it creeps in anyway. I want to scream, but I can’t. I don’t have the energy.

The door slams open and one of the guards steps in, smirking. I’m shoved roughly to the side as he drops a plate of cold, congealed slop in front of me. “Eat, Princess,” he sneers, his eyes glinting with some sick amusement.

I don’t touch the food. I don’t want to, don’t even know what it is. But he’s waiting, watching me with a look like he’s expecting me to eat it, to beg for more. It’s disgusting. I don’t say anything. They call me ‘Princess’ like it’s some kind of twisted pet name, and I don’t know how to make sense of it. I’m not some pampered girl in a castle. I’m not some fucking princess.

The guard grabs my arm and jerks me back up to my feet when I don’t make a move. “You think this is a fucking hotel? Eat the food. You’re lucky we’re feeding you at all.”

His slap stings, and I stumble back, my cheek burning. Tears prick at the edges of my vision, but I blink them away. I don’t give them the satisfaction.

“I’m not hungry,” I say, my voice trembling despite myself.

He just laughs, a sound so cold it feels like ice. “You don’t have a choice. Eat, or you’ll find out how much worse it can get.”

I want to scream. I want to fight back, but I know it’s pointless. They won’t care. I’m nothing to them, just a piece of cargo they’re holding until they get what they want.

With a heavy sigh, I finally reach for the plate just to make them stop. I take a bite of the bread, and it tastes as awful as it looks.

“Good girl,” the guard mocks, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Princess?”

I want to tell him to fuck off, but I can’t. The last thing I need right now is to give him a reason to hurt me more. Instead, I shove the plate away, the disgust rising in my throat.

"Don’t call me that,” I snap, my voice hoarse. “I’m not your fucking princess.”

The guard’s eyes darken, and for a second, I think he’s going to hit me again. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring at me with a sick grin. “You are whatever the fuck I say you are. Don’t forget it.”

He turns on his heel and slams the door behind him, leaving me alone again.

I sit there for a moment, staring at the shitty food, feeling more trapped than ever. And all I can think is,This isn’t going to end well.

The door opens, and two women step in. One’s young, probably around my age, but her eyes are old, tired. The other looks older, maybe mid-thirties, but she’s just as hollow. Both of them look at me, then at the wedding dress I’m still trapped in.

“Jaysus,” the younger one mutters, shaking her head. “Let’s get you out of that thing.”

I don’t protest. I’m too numb to care about anything right now. They’re gentle with me, like they expect me to break at any moment. They pull at the gown, untying it from around my body. I almost feel like I should apologize for being in the way, for being so weak, but I don’t say anything. I just let them.

The older woman helps me into a faded blouse and skirt. Neither of them speaks, just moving with practiced hands. The clothes are nothing—nothing compared to what I should have. But for now, it’s something. It’s better than that disgusting dress.

“You should eat something,” the younger one suggests, but her voice is small, uncertain. She’s just trying to help. I know that. But I don’t have an appetite. Not anymore.

I shake my head, the words thick in my throat. “Why are they calling me Princess?” I'm in a daze, haunted by the many, many warnings I was given to just stay with Declan. I wish now that I'd have listened to him.

The women exchange a glance. It’s hard to tell whether it’s sympathy or just exhaustion. They know what’s coming. They’ve been here far longer than I have.

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