“Eight cells.” I gulp down the sickness bubbling in my throat. “Are they all full?”
“Sold,” the boy gasps. “Just m-me.”
Ember’s head bows low, her entire body shaking. But I know she’s not crying. It’s taking all her willpower to remain calm for the sake of this poor kid instead of tearing this room apart brick by fucking brick.
“Rayna?” I depress the comms piece. “Do you have our location?”
There’s a pause before she responds.
“Looks like the fourth floor? The heat signatures aren’t registering well. I’m flying low overhead, but there’s a lot of interference.”
“We have a live victim.” I study the boy’s gaunt face. “Young male, perhaps eleven or twelve. We’re going to need something to jimmy this cell door open to get him out.”
“Did you say live?” Hyland joins the exchange.
“Yes.”
No one else tunes in to offer a reply. I’d imagine they’re all picturing the horrors that we’re seeing in real time. We expected there may be evidence of trafficking, but nothing like this. Not a starved, innocent child, rotting in a frozen wasteland.
“We’re two floors below you,” Blaine eventually says. “I think I saw a crowbar in one of the storage rooms.”
“That should do it.” I fight to keep my tone level.
“Sit tight, and let us find you.”
“There could be more.” Ember rattles the cage bars in frustration. “We need to be fast.”
“Please don’t leave me!” The boy bursts into more agonising sobs. “P-Please.”
“Hey, hey.” She reaches between the bars to outstretch a trembling hand. “No one is going to leave you. What’s your name?”
Those big, tearful eyes cast over us all. Fuck, he looks petrified of us. Lord only knows what’s been done to him or how long he’s been held captive.
“I d-don’t remember,” the poor kid warbles.
“That’s okay.” Ember lays on the fake comfort in great, heaping doses. “I’m Ember. That’s Warner and Axel. We’re here to help you, kid.”
“I’m so c-cold.” His teeth clack together, chattering uncontrollably.
“I know. Hold tight, we’re going to get you out of there soon.”
Warner has to turn his back for a second to collect himself. He faces Gunnar instead, a palm on his chest as he works on evening out his breathing. At the back of our group, my twin wears a perplexed expression, staring far too intently at the imprisoned boy.
There’s something in his cold, dead stare. A glimmer of unbidden pain, maybe. Shadows writhing and dancing like twinflames, seeing the past echoing right before his very eyes. He looks… haunted. Excruciatingly so.
“Can you get this open?” I ask him.
He visibly recoils, seeming to shake off whatever had rattled him. “Without the key, we need that crowbar. Otherwise we’re screwed.”
“Shit!” I crash the heel of my palm against my head then return to the comms. “Get here quickly, Blaine. We’re exposed, and the kid’s terrified.”
“I’m on the move,” Blaine replies.
With a loud exhale, Warner turns back to face our predicament. Eyes ping-ponging everywhere but the cage, it’s clear that he can’t bring himself to look at the child. I wonder if, like me, he’s picturing Ember locked in a similar setup.
“Fuck, I hope there aren’t more.”
Concern pouring off her in waves, Ember looks up at his words. “He said they were sold.”
