Page 26 of Cowboy
"You've just made things much worse for yourself," he says coldly. "And for your friend Cowboy. He'll come for you, of course. The hero type always does. And when he does..." He trails off, letting the threat hang in the air.
I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry with fear. What have I done? I was trying to warn Ciarán, to protect him, but I may have just signed his death warrant instead.
The man moves toward the door. "Get some rest," he says mockingly. "You'll need your strength for what's coming next."
The door slams shut behind him, leaving me alone in the darkness once more. I slump in my restraints, despair washing over me. I've failed. Failed to protect the information about Dylan. Failed to keep Ciarán safe. And now we'll both pay the price.
Over the past four years, I’ve managed to evade these assholes. I’ve managed to keep myself alive. I did everything I was supposed to. And now look at me. The one time I went to someone I trusted, someone I knew would never betray me, I ended up kidnapped, and I have no idea what’s going to happen next. I just pray to God that somehow, we’ll all end up getting out of this shit.
The sound of footsteps gets closer and I brace myself for what’s to come. Once again, I have no concept of time. This tiny room is cloaked in darkness. Thankfully, I’ve been here long enough that my eyes have adjusted to the dark and I’m able to see bits and pieces whenever I’m not beaten or unconscious.
The door opens, and for the first time in God knows how long, I see light spilling into the room. I pull in a ragged breath, ignoring the sharp pains of protest as I do.
“It’s time to go,” I hear a gruff voice say. Looking up, I see the man is wearing a ski mask and gloves. Confusion hits me. This is new. Usually there’s no light and no gloves.
“Go where?”
The laughter is chilling. “You’re of no use to us like this. The boss has decided it’s time for you to be put to work.”
I swallow hard. “Where?” I ask, wondering where they’ll be sending me to work.
Once again, his laughter sends a chill down my spine. “My bad,” he laughs as he unties me. “You’ve been sold. You’re on the next shipment out of here.”
Trafficked? I’m being trafficked?
I shake my head. No, this can’t be happening.
“You either get to your feet on your own,” he snarls, “or you’ll be carried out of here, unconscious. The buyer has no objection to force being used.”
I try to stand but my legs give out beneath me. The man grabs my arm roughly, yanking me to my feet. Pain shoots through my body and I bite back a cry.
"Move," he orders, shoving me toward the door.
My mind races as he leads me down a dimly lit hallway. Trafficked. Sold. The words echo in my head, filling me with terror. I need to find a way out of this, but my body is weak from days, maybe even weeks of abuse and starvation.
We emerge into what looks like a warehouse. Several other women are huddled in a corner, fear evident on their faces. My heart sinks as I realize the scale of this operation.
"Get in line," the man barks, pushing me toward the group.
As I stumble forward, I scan the area desperately for any means of escape. But there are armed guards at every exit. My chances of getting out of here on my own are slim to none.
A loud voice booms through the warehouse. "Alright, ladies, listen up! You're about to begin your journey to your new lives. Cooperate, and things will go smoothly. Resist, and you'll regret it."
Panic rises in my throat. This is really happening. I'm about to be shipped off like cattle, sold to God knows who for God knows what purpose.
As they begin herding us toward a large shipping container, I notice a tiny girl walking along, crying and begging for them to take her to her mammy. My heart breaks at her little voice pleading with them. The men do nothing. They don’t even glance in her direction. They ignore the heartbroken pleas from her.
A gun is jutted into my back and pushes me toward the shipping container. I know I’m fucked. There’s no way out for me. I know Ciarán would have tried his best to find me. Knowing him, he’ll have Travis all over it too, but these traffickers are a hell of a lot smarter than anyone thinks and they’re good at hiding their tracks.
I edge nearer to the container and watch in horror as one of the men picks up the crying little girl and throws her into the container.
The little girl's scream echoes through the space, making my blood run cold. Without thinking, I lunge toward the container, desperate to help her. But before I can reach it, a sharp pain explodes in the back of my head. My vision blurs as I crumple to the ground.
Through the haze of pain, I hear voices arguing.
"What the hell are you doing? We can't damage the merchandise!"
"She was trying to interfere. I had to stop her."
