CHAPTER EIGHT
Being invited to dinner with the boss on their third day, a day after he pretended to have the fall accident, made Dylan suspicious—but that suspicion was eased when he found out later that Sanders was one of the few always invited to the boss’ dinners due to his constant success in delivering healthy goods. That only made Dylan despise the man more, who’d died in the middle of the night when he’d tried to kill himself and succeeded. Coward.
Dylan was relatively calmer now when he faced his half-brother, who was apparently a regular at the dinner affairs, too. Lance wasn’t a slave trader, but he used to be, which meant that he’d been successful enough to elevate his rank. Now, he was Henley’s assistant and most trusted confidante, making him a formidable enemy at this point.
Lance had always been good with charming people with conversation when they were kids, a knack he shared with Dylan. But that charm now held an oily quality, mixing old and new together that Dylan couldn’t figure out whether he should be mad or worried. They sat across from him at the table, with Isabella wearing something less scandalous this time.
True to her name, which she decided not to change after all, she wore a kimono of the highest quality, in a lush pink color that complimented her skin—something she’d bought at the black market when she checked things out this morning. Sanders had plenty of classy clothing in his closet, and his similar size to Dylan made it easy to choose a black outfit that would cover up the muscles that Sanders lacked.
Henley wasn’t much of a speaker, only choosing to talk when spoken to. Lance, in the meantime, was quite the talker, only stopping when the food arrived and even talking in between bites. Isabella kept up her role, the sly concubine that Sanders insisted on bringing, and she let Lance flirt with her as much as he wanted. It was obvious Lance wanted to do more than flirt, and how blatant he voiced it without regard for his audience further cemented Dylan’s suspicion that his brother disliked Sanders.
Dylan didn’t like the flirting part—not with how those eyes looked at Isabella as if he wanted to tear her apart right then and there. He didn’t know this man anymore, couldn’t detect the person that he grew up with before Lance defected…and that meant he was unpredictable.
But a job was a job. And so Dylan stuck to his role. He deliberately drank more wine than was necessary, used foul words that he normally didn’t use, and listened to ongoing conversation all around him. Because of this, he was able to take note of the usual shipping schedules of the biggest ships.
It was time to put the next plan in motion.
Dylan excused himself just before midnight with Isabella on his arm, winking lecherously at the group and acting drunk as he stumbled repeatedly on top of his limp. Isabella supported him again, giving him a kiss on the cheek and staining it with her red lipstick as she chewed at her gum vulgarly. She giggled the whole way, pretending to be pleased, while Dylan flirted with her the whole way back to the ship.
She smelled really, really good. Dylan could smell Isabella beneath her façade, that cloying perfume that she put on, and it was distracting. But he kept his character and so did she, and he detected no reaction in her when he leaned closer along the way.
When they finally almost reached the ship and were alone, he reluctantly let her go. Pretty blue eyes stared at him, an altered shade, and he quietly informed her of the plan to look for Simon and Robin to relay the shipping dates and give them an idea of escape. They brought a lock pick with them, with the plan to give it to the teens and have them start from there. Isabella walked ahead, shedding her heels and tucking it in between her kimono. She disappeared in the fog.
After a minute, Dylan walked in the other direction.
*****
He found Simon after an hour inside one of the smaller buildings, and shock filled him at the boy’s state. One of his eyes was shut tight and swollen, and his nose looked broken twice. His lower lip was also swollen, making his speech slurred.
Dylan quickly gave out the shipping schedule, and Simon assured him that he would find a way to get everyone out by tomorrow. There was someone hunched on the cell beside him, but the other boy looked unconscious, so Dylan paid him no attention. It was only then that Dylan realized Robin was missing.
Almost at the same time, Simon’s hand gripped the bars, his dark eyes intense and almost desperate.
“Robin’s been taken,” he whispered urgently. “You have to find her. She’s been taken by a man and I don’t know what he’ll do with her.”
Dylan’s gaze sharpened. “When was she taken?”
“A few hours ago. Hurry.”
Dylan nodded then went on, leaving Simon behind. A sinking feeling filled his chest, making him question his decision to bring them here. While Simon could defend himself without his shifting abilities, he’d been outnumbered and was badly hurt now. He couldn’t imagine Robin’s state, who had no access to her magic right now and only had basic self-defense.
There were barely any guards, and what he found were resting in corners or dozing off. He used it to his advantage as he searched the buildings, finally finding Robin inside one of the other buildings filled with girls. She was in a small cell all on her own, and from what he could see, her clothes were torn in some places. She also had bruises all over whatever skin was exposed.
She gave a start when he snuck in front of her, her eyes widening.
“Are you okay?” he asked right off.
A shadow crossed her green eyes, and the sinking feeling returned. But she firmed her lips and nodded her head, and it brought him a small sense of relief.
“I’m fine,” she replied in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
“Simon asked me to find you. Are you sure?”
She nodded again.
“Describe the person who tried to take you away,” he ordered.
Robin took a second to think it through before stating the basics—brown skin, bulky, most teeth gone. It described most of the men here, but Dylan vowed he’d find that person and kill him.
“What did you do to get away?” Dylan asked.
Robin looked at him defiantly. “I bit his fingers off.” As if to prove her point, she bared her teeth threateningly, stains in them.
Dylan grinned. “Good girl,” he murmured. Then he told her the same details that he told Simon. He gave her another lock pick and told her to stay put, in which she replied dryly that she didn’t have anywhere to go to.
Dylan then backtracked and went back to Simon, sharing the good news. The relief on the boy’s face was visible, and he left him with that hope, checking his watch. It was the dead of night now, and he needed to regroup with Isabella to collaborate their findings. A lot was resting on the teens’ shoulders, but they needed to be ready at the scheduled time tomorrow, too.
He’d almost passed a couple of guards walking by and had to stay in hiding for a few minutes. The thought of entering Henley’s office crossed his mind, just to see if there was any higher boss the man was reporting to. But it was terribly late, and Isabella would be waiting. He needed to go back to the ship first.
When the coast was relatively clear, he moved again, keeping to the fog and using it to hide himself. The ship was only about ten minutes away, and Dylan used the narrow path between buildings that was mostly left neglected to get there when a certain scent caught his attention—Isabella’s cloying perfume and soap scent beneath. He stopped right away and backtracked, following the faint scent until he reached a warehouse that seemed like some sort of storage for Henley’s particular vice. There were boxes stacked all over one another, some open and others sealed shut. It said a lot about everyone’s fear of Henley’s retaliation that there was no need for a guard inside at this time of night.
His eyes adjusting to the darkness, Dylan took a step forward. A sound to his right made him pause and turn in that direction.
And that was where he found Isabella, struggling to get away from Lance—or at least, pretending to. His hands were squeezing her and bruising her as he kept her still, and he was tearing her clothes off.
Dylan saw red.
Then he was charging towards Lance as fury consumed him like no other.