CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jason was obviously headed for the compound, using a path that Isabella didn’t know about and ignoring the prison buildings as he did so. This didn’t sit well with her, so she reluctantly had to stop following him for a bit so she could check the insides herself and make sure there was no one left behind. Most were empty, but there were some that hadn’t been cleared out, corners where unconscious kids were. Her mouth went dry and her heart tightened at the sight, and she gathered them in one hidden area and took note to go back for them right after.
Then she was running for the compound just as the first shouts came.
There were still some guards there, which meant Henley was still around somewhere. They saw her and made a move towards her, weapons warily out—and she surprised them by attacking right away and hitting their pressure points until they were unconscious. Her movements were quiet so as not to attract unnecessary attention, but it was obvious she didn’t need to be, because the men left were preoccupied with something else.
Or someone else.
She followed the noise, not surprised when it stopped just at the dining room they’d eaten in earlier. The door was locked and the guards were trying to pound it down, but she disabled them quickly and picked the lock herself. She slammed it open and blinked at the bright lights, right before her vision adjusted to the sight.
Henley was tied down on a chair, his jaw dislocated and his huge body heaving. In front of him stood Jason, a sword in his hand. He glanced at her entrance.
“You should leave, princess,” he murmured, eyeing her kimono.
Isabella cleared her throat. “Jason, what are you doing?”
The sound of her voice made surprise flit in his gaze before he was eyeing her from head to toe in shock.
“Isabella?”
She nodded.
“Who altered you?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter. What’s going on here? We should leave,” she said.
Jason shook his head and growled. “Not until I find out the name of this man’s backer.”
The tip of the sword stood poised against Henley’s stomach, whose eyes widened.
“You bastard—”
The sword slid in, cutting through flesh. Blood flowed out, dripping on the floor.
“Jason…” Isabella said warningly, not liking this one bit. There was a certain cold-bloodedness in his gaze that was never there before, and it worried her.
The sword twisted, effectively locking in place. Henley went limp, eyes closing. Isabella stepped forward, but Jason was already moving back, his blue eyes clearing.
“He didn’t have the information,” he said shortly before sauntering away. Jason went towards her and gave her a hard hug, burying his head on her neck. “Jesus, Iz. I’m so glad you’re alive.”
The nickname he’d always used on her made her realize he sounded like a lost boy. She hugged him back as tight as she could, feeling the tension flowing all over his body.
“This place was a nightmare,” he muttered. “I was trying to spy on them when you followed me, and I got caught. I didn’t think you’d return for me.”
“What the hell kind of statement is that? Of course I’d return for you,” she scolded him, holding on.
They stayed there like that for a while before Isabella reluctantly pulled away. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something slide down Henley’s unmoving form. She turned her head in that direction, watching Henley’s phone slide down his leg, along with a piece of paper. Jason’s head turned in the same direction she was looking at, and a frown formed on his lips as he approached the dead man.
He picked up both the phone and the piece of paper, turning it over. Isabella watched the frown on his face freeze, then transform into something horrible—a cross between shock and revulsion. Isabella took a step forward.
“What’s wrong?”
Jason didn’t say anything, worrying her again. His hand fisted, crumpling the paper, but she wasn’t sure he was even aware of it.
“Jason?”
He shook his head and closed his eyes. Isabella took his hand gently, a soothing gesture. Then she pried it open, where the paper he crumpled lay.
Gingerly, she opened it and read the contents. It was a list of names, ones that sounded familiar. Isabella realized that she knew them. They were the names of some of the kids in their clan, all young ones who hadn’t reached the age of fifteen. Below the names was a note to sell them to the highest bidder, and a promise that finance was coming soon to help out the slave group.
Below the note was Isaac Hart’s signature.
*****
By two in the morning, they had managed to capture all of the guards, while some of the pirates that had been on the island during that time that hadn’t been captured had fled. It was thanks to the joint effort of the new batch of slaves, who weren’t malnourished yet and still had enough strength to fight back and direct the weak ones to the ships. Isabella helped as best as she could, though it was Dylan who took charge of the whole operation, for which she was grateful for—she’d been functioning on autopilot since reading that piece of paper.
Jason had been on autopilot, too, though he did his best to relay whatever information he could to help them out. Apparently, he’d been trying to find out who Henley’s financer was for the longest time, but hadn’t gotten any relevant information. He was only able to pretend to be a low-rank pirate who wasn’t privy to meetings and such. Then they found him out, and it had been too late.
They managed to break through the mini vault in Henley’s office, which procured more documents they needed to confirm that Isaac was really involved. His signature was in most of them, and Isabella and Jason recognized some other names of minor financers. Now the issue lay in how to get Isaac to confess, because whatever documents they had didn’t hold well unless there was a verbal confession. Isaac physically couldn’t leave his home due to a curse that rooted him in place, hence the reason he couldn’t come here and help them out himself—at least, that’s what she thought.
Was his involvement the other reason?
It all gave her a headache. So Isabella concentrated her efforts in helping organize the children in ships, getting to know the older teens and giving them assurances that everything was alright. There was also the matter of getting them proper treatment and food. Robin handled the treatment part, having had background training in first aid.
But they still needed to get off of this island—fast.
They loaded the last ship with the warehouse goods, with the plan to sell them and use the money to fund the children who didn’t have homes to go to. They counted the children as three hundred in total, with only two hundred left alive after the general chaos. They kept some guards alive in the prison cells below the ships for further interrogation back home, to be handled by professionals. But they only lasted an hour before they took their own lives, and it made Dylan’s forehead throb visibly as he ordered them to be thrown to sea.
Then they burned the island to the ground, leaving only smoke and ashes.
They set sail just as it steadily got darker, and Isabella felt the lack of sleep seep into her bones. But she was used to sleepless days from her countless missions, and she powered through by eating and taking charge in this part of the mission.
They took two ships, with Jason and the two teens manning the first, since Jason knew how to. Isabella and Dylan took the second, but she made sure to avoid him and kept herself busy with finding accommodations for everyone. Both ships were crowded and those that couldn’t be squeezed in rooms slept on deck, and soon silence filled the air.
Isabella went to the ship’s bow and watched the quiet ocean. It was a small blessing that it didn’t rain and there wasn’t a coming storm.
God. What was she going to do about Isaac?
The question was still running—screaming—in her mind when she heard familiar footsteps come closer, then a presence beside her. Isabella didn’t turn her head. Dylan’s hands gripped the railing as he watched the sea with her, and in that unspoken moment, she remembered their kiss from earlier.
Finally, Dylan spoke. “I’ll help you catch him.”
She kept quiet. Then she sighed. “How?”
“We’ll find a way. Enemies always reveal their hand when you least expect it.”
That was true. What came after didn’t sit well, though—that she was going to have to take over as clan leader if it turned out Isaac really was the enemy. The evidence was there.
But her heart refused to accept it. Not yet.
They both stayed silent, both minds heavy with their own thoughts.