The lady nodded. “Yeah. The very last thing I keep in mind was assembly a date at Stray. He ordered me a drink from the bar, and I wakened right here.”

“A date?” Bile rose in her throat till she needed to press a hand to her lips to maintain from hurling.

“Yeah. This man I met on the gymnasium.” Kelsie’s huff of laughter held a tragic bitterness. “He appeared so candy and simply… regular,” she whispered as her voice broke.

“W-what was his identify?”

Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

“Oliver.”

“Oh God.” Brenna drew up her knees and buried her face towards them. Sizzling tears flowed from her eyes. The membership had talked about one thing about human trafficking, however she’d brushed it off, assuming Oliver may by no means be concerned in one thing so heinous. “He’s my ex-fiancé and the explanation I’m right here too.”

Kelsie stayed quiet. What may she say? Phrases wouldn’t make this any higher.

“How lengthy have you ever been right here?” she ultimately choked out.

“Uh…” Kelsie picked at a gap in her ratty sweatpants. “It’s slightly laborious to inform. It’s at all times darkish in right here. Someplace round every week, I believe.”

“Per week?” Brenna gawked at her in utter horror. Seven entire days. What the hell?

Kelsie shrugged.

Now that a couple of minutes had handed, Brenna’s eyes adjusted to the low lighting. She glanced round their small area, however there was nothing to see. The partitions and ceiling have been made from rock, giving the impression they have been in some underground cave. A bucket sat in a single nook of the primitive room. She guessed what it was for however didn’t need to give it some thought too intently. No cot, no pillow, no blanket, no nothing. Only a barren room with a solemn cellmate.

She took a second to check her companion and instantly wished she hadn’t. Kelsie’s blue eyes have been bleak, virtually desolate. Her mild hair appeared cleanish, as if she’d been capable of wash it a time or two within the week she’d been there, however that didn’t make sense contemplating their meager lodging.

The youthful girl wore an identical olive-green sweatshirt and sweatpants, her solely barrier towards the damp chill of the underground jail.

What had Brenna’s abdomen turning was the deep purple bruise on Kelsie’s cheek, her swollen decrease lip, and the blatant finger marks on her neck. The best way she sat, curling herself into as small a ball as doable, additionally set off the worst sort of alarm bells. Somebody had damage her just lately, and Brenna had a sickening feeling she knew what sort of torture Kelsie had endured. If this have been certainly a human trafficking state of affairs, the poor girl would have profound trauma to recuperate from. Was this entire membership a entrance for shifting kidnapped ladies out and in of Florida? Would they be moved out of Florida?

How silly may she have been to confront Oliver on her personal?

Nobody knew the place she’d gone tonight. She hadn’t informed a single soul she’d determined to fulfill Oliver herself like an absolute fool. She’d recognized Lock wouldn’t enable it, and now she understood why. Now, she’d pay for her silly naivety. However what would they do to her? Would she be bought off to serve on the will and pleasure of some wealthy psychopath? Or was her thoughts spiraling uncontrolled? She was terrified to ask questions however needed to know earlier than she drove herself mad with fear.

Her chest tightened once more as she regarded into Kelsie’s bleak eyes. “Kelsie, the place are we? What is that this place?” she whispered.

If it was doable, Kelsie’s face grew much more grim.

“Hell, Brenna. We’re in Hell.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

NO ONE HAD seen or heard from Brenna in seventeen hours, and Lock was out of his fucking thoughts with terror. He’d imagined each situation, from her leaving him of her personal free will to some sociopath snatching her off the road to reenact scenes from Noticed.

He grabbed a glass off the bar and whipped it throughout the clubhouse with the pace of a bullet. It hit a wall, shattering in an eruption of sharp shards. He’d like to assemble these shards and carve them into Oliver’s pores and skin as a result of that motherfucker had one thing to do with this.

Lock knew this with each fiber of his being.

Oliver hadn’t proven up for work, nor had he been at his home all day.

Coincidence?

I believe fucking not.

He braced his fingers on the bar and bowed his head as he fought to rein in his fury.

“Prospect!” Jinx shouted. “Clear that mess up.” He turned towards Lock. “Third one in twenty minutes, brother. May wanna give the man a break.”

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