Page 52 of Broken Promises
Who took me, and why was Waylon so afraid of them?
Where are they keeping me, and is there a way to escape?
Was this related to Sergey and the Syndicate?
No matter how many ways I tried to figure out what was going on, I was still floating in the dark without a tether. I’d heard stories from Rhys and Regan of how Elise, Amaya, Grace, and a few other women had been in similar situations and were all rescued. I feared that wouldn’t happen to me. In the past, they had a place to start looking, but Rhys had told me this past weekend that they weren’t any closer to finding out who was behind this all.
A knock on the door echoed into the room, but I couldn’t be bothered to care as the door opened and someone walked in. My eyes were still focused on the gray sky turning pink beyond the tree as someone cleared their voice.
Slowly, I turned my head, keeping the apathetic expression firmly in place as I looked at whoever alerted me to their presence. An older man, probably close to sixty, was standing in the open doorway with his hands tucked behind his back. Lifting one eyebrow, I waited for him to explain what he wanted.
“Breakfast is being served downstairs and your presence is requested,” he started.
I turned back to the window and replied, “Please tell my host I’m not interested in breakfast.”
“Miss,” he began, and I looked back at him, “if you don’t come with me, they’re going to come up here and make you. They’re . . . unstable, and it would be better for you if you did as they requested.”
Reluctantly, I stood and brushed some hair from my face as I walked to him. “Who are they and where are we?” I asked softly, and he glanced side to side without speaking.
Just as I was about to walk back to my chair at the window, he whispered, “We’re just over the state line in Tennessee, close to Memphis.” He straightened up and said louder for whoever may be listening, “Follow me.”
I fell in line behind him and with his close steps, I was able to look around as he escorted me down a hallway to a set of stairs. As we traversed down, I took in as much as I could, trying to remember every detail. A door closed to the right of the stairs with a slam, and I snapped my head to the side to see what caused it, only for the man to subtly shake his head and continue to descend the stairs.
On the ground floor, I noticed pictures hanging on the far wall, but I couldn’t see who they were from my distance. The man turned to the left and walked into a dining room. He grabbed a chair and pulled it out for me, so I took a seat. There wasn’t anyone else in the room, and I was beginning to wonder if I had it all wrong. My first run-in with the Syndicate was part of a sick ceremony to initiate new members into the organization. But if I was the only one here, then it couldn’t be that, could it?
No one was going to answer any questions for me, so I looked at the man who was standing behind me for instructions. “Please serve yourself and I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t leave this room,” he warned, and I nodded before he turned, leaving me alone with a tableful of food.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and a glass of juice, and I drank the juice immediately. I was thirsty, and the bland sandwich for dinner had long worn off. Noticing there were at least a dozen selections on the table, I plated some for myself and retook my seat. I was about to take my first bite when I heard someone enter the room behind me.
Carefully, I turned and watched as the man escorted someone else into the room. He placed her next to me and helped her get pushed up to the table before he left us alone, closing the door behind him.
The girl next to me looked to be young and her eyes were filled with tears. Softly, I whispered, “I’m Hannah, and it’s going to be okay.”
“Where are we?” she asked through stuttered cries.
“I’m not sure, but I’m going to do everything I can to get us out of here,” I reasoned then asked, “What’s your name?”
“Pearl . . . Pearl Simon,” she responded.
I poured a glass of juice and placed it in front of her. “You’re going to need to keep your strength, Pearl.”
She lifted the glass, and I could see the tremors reflected in the juice as she took a swallow. I placed some fruit, eggs, bacon, and a Danish onto a plate and handed it to her. She looked at it, then at me, and I offered her as reassuring a smile as I could muster.
We both began nibbling on our food, and I casually asked, “How old are you, Pearl, and where are you from?”
“I’m seventeen, and I’ve lived all over.” She paused, reaching up to swipe tears from her cheeks. “I’ve been in foster care for the last five years, since my parents died.”
I reached over and placed my hand on hers as I said, “I’m sorry, but you’ve got me, and I promise, you’re not alone anymore.”
Her smile was forced, but she seemed to settle the more she ate. I didn’t know how long we were going to be here, and the chance to escape could come up at any minute, so I kept eating, wanting to get my energy level up.
“Why . . . why are we here?” Pearl asked a few minutes later, and I wasn’t sure if I should tell her what I suspected or simply evade the question.
Honesty was needed at that moment since I didn’t want to give her any reason not to trust me. There was no way I was leaving a teenage girl here alone, and if I had anything to do with it, I would stop them from hurting her by whatever means necessary.
I spoke softly, hoping she heard me. “I believe we’ve been taken as part of an initiation into a crime family. My . . . mybiological father was an original member, and I think they’re trying to resurrect it.”
She turned her head to me and lowered her voice to almost inaudible. “Do you mean the Syndicate?”
