Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82439 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
I feel my chest tighten as the weight of it all crashes down on me. My vision blurs with tears, but I blink them back, forcing myself to stay awake, to stay alert. I need to think, to figure out a way to survive this. Because I can’t let him win. I can’t let Christopher take everything from me—not my son, not my life, and not the hope that maybe there’s a way out of this.
Even if it kills me, I’ll find a way to stop him.
I glance around, desperate to figure out where we are. The space feels suffocating, cold, and damp. It’s like an abandoned warehouse—concrete floors, rusted beams, and windows so high they barely let any light through. What little light does manage to filter in is weak, casting eerie shadows against the walls. Judging by the darkness, it must be nighttime outside, but I can’t tell how late it is, or how long I’ve been here. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat more frantic than the last.
I force myself to look at Christopher, my throat tight with fear. “Where’s Nate?” My voice is barely more than a whisper, hoarse from the crying and fear. My entire body tenses, waiting for his response.
Christopher glances at me, his face unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something, maybe annoyance or indifference, in his eyes. “He’s safe,” he says, his voice cold, devoid of any warmth. “I’d never hurt my own son.” He says it like I should be grateful, like that one act of mercy erases all the horror he’s orchestrating. “What kind of monster do you take me for?”
I stare at him, my heart twisting painfully in my chest. What kind of monster? The man in front of me is barely recognizable as the person I once married. The father of my child. How could I have been so blind? How could I have ever loved someone capable of this?
Tears well up, blurring my vision as I take in his calm, almost bored expression. He looks so detached, like this is just another business deal for him, another day in his twisted world. My voice trembles as I ask the question that’s been burning inside me since this nightmare began. “Why are you doing this?”
The tears I’ve been holding back finally break free, racing down my cheeks. I can’t stop them, and I don’t even try. I don’t care if he sees me cry. I’m broken, terrified, and desperate for answers. For any sign of the man I once thought I knew.
Christopher’s gaze flickers over me, and for a brief second, I think I see a hint of pity. But it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. “This isn’t about you, Eva,” he says, his voice as emotionless as ever. “It’s about survival. Business.”
Business. That word makes my stomach churn. I choke on a sob, shaking my head. “You’re selling women. You’re trafficking them like they’re nothing! You’re destroying lives!”
He tilts his head slightly, his expression softening in a way that makes my blood run cold. “You don’t understand, Eva. This is how the world works. The strong survive, the weak get swallowed up.” His voice is so casual, like he’s talking about a stock trade and not human lives.
I stare into the eyes of the man I once called my husband, the father of my child. “You’re pure evil,” I whisper, the words spilling out of me. There’s no other way to describe him now.
Christopher smirks, the corner of his lips twitching into something that’s almost amusement. “I’ve always been this way, Eva. You just chose not to see it.”
Tears stream down my cheeks faster now, my heart shattering into pieces. How did I ever fall in love with him? How could I have let him into my life, into Nate’s life? And now, how do I get out of this alive? How do I save myself, these women, and most importantly, my son?
My crying finally stops, though it feels like hours have passed. My face is sticky with dried tears, and my throat burns from the sobs that had wracked my body. I blink against the dull throb in my head, trying to focus through the pain. My wrists are raw from the zip ties biting into my skin, and every joint in my body screams in protest as I shift, struggling to sit up straighter against the cold metal railing. I can barely move, but I know I can’t stay like this. I have to find a way out.
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.