Page 137 of Hidden

I try a second channel. Still nothing.

Miles is still unconscious on the floor, and somewhere across the city my boys are moving toward a warehouse I can no longer see. And the girl Miles is willing to die for has just disappeared from the only eyes we had on her.

I sit back slowly, my jaw locked, and stare at the dark screens.

“Get him stable,” I tell the doctor.

“Fuck!” Doc drops to Miles's chest and starts compressions, and I shove Doc and I take over.

“You are not fucking dying on me!” I shout at Miles like he can hear me. “Come on.”

Thirty-Five

Sadie

“Fight me, it makes it more fun,” the man whispers in my ear, as he licks the side of my face, his hand moving between my legs, and I can't move to stop him.

My body is shutting down on me, I can feel everything around me fading away. Maybe if I go to a happy place, this might not be as horrible as it is.

Miles, Miles is my happy place. He makes me smile, he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, he makes me feel safe and loved. Miles, my mind goes to Miles.

The weight on top of me vanishes.

Shouting fills the room, they’re sharp, urgent voices overlapping in Romanian and English. Footsteps pound the corridor. The woman is yelling something about leaving. A door slams. More voices. Then the air changes.

I can’t move. My arms are still locked above my head. My chest is exposed to the cold. Everything feels distant and too close at the same time. My throat is raw from screaming. Tears keep coming even though I can’t make a sound anymore.

Fabric drops over me, it’s warm, large, and smells of clean laundry and cold air. I realize it’s someone’s jacket. It covers my chest and stomach. Hands work quickly at the restraints on my wrists, and the metal releases. My arms fall, heavy and useless.

I sit up too fast. The room tilts. A man is crouched in front of me. It’s Hayden.

I reach for him without thinking. My fingers twist into the front of his shirt. I pull myself forward until my face is pressed against his shoulder. The sobs come hard and silent, then broken and loud. My whole body shakes against him. He keeps one arm steady around my back and doesn’t try to stop me.

I don’t see anything else. I don’t hear the other men moving through the room or the low voices exchanging information. There’re only the solid wall of his chest and the sounds of me crying.

“Take your hoodie off.”

Hayden’s voice, is quiet but clear.

I open my eyes. Mason is already pulling his sweatshirt over his head. Hayden lifts the jacket just enough for me to slip my arms into the soft, oversized sleeves. The fabric swallows me. Mason’s sweatshirt follows, still warm from his body. Hayden tugs the front closed.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I shake my head once. The tears start again, harder this time and I can’t stop them.

Mason moves in, his arms slide under my knees and around my back. He lifts me like I weigh nothing. I turn my face into his shoulder and keep crying as he carries me out of the room, down the cold corridor, and toward the exit. Every step jostles the ache in my shoulders and the raw skin on my wrists, but I don’t lift my head.

I just hold on to Mason as he walks out of the building and out into cold night air. The sudden change in temperature makes me shiver hard against him.

Somewhere nearby engines are running. Voices move around us, low and controlled. I keep my face buried in his shoulder until he stops and carefully sets me down on the open back of a vehicle.

My legs don’t want to hold me. I grip the edge of the seat.

“Wh… whe… Miles?” The words scrape out of my throat, raw and barely audible.

Mason’s face changes. Something tightens around his eyes and mouth, too quick to hide. My stomach drops.

“No.” The sound that leaves me is broken. Fresh tears spill over before I can stop them.