Page 20 of Betrayed Auctioned Mate

But instead of falling, he rights himself and makes a desperate dash for escape. He jumps from the boat into the water and crashes through the reeds. I see him hit the underbrush and break into a sprint, disappearing into the thick shadows of the swamp.

“Damn it!” Byron curses, already splashing through the water toward the bank. “We can’t let him get away!”

“We don’t have a choice,” I say, frustration broiling in me. I want to go after him, but the terrain is treacherous, and we’re not equipped for a chase in the dark. Besides, we have two men still on the boat who need securing.

Keira stands frozen, staring after the fleeing figure. Her breathing is ragged, and her hands are trembling slightly as she lowers her pistol.

“Keira,” I say quietly, stepping closer. She doesn’t respond. I place a hand on her arm, trying to ground her. “It’s over.”

She finally blinks, and her gaze shifts to me. There’s a flicker of something raw and unsettled in her eyes, but she nods, slowly lowering her pistol, though her fingers still curl tightly around it.

Byron wades over to the boat, his boots splashing in the water as he surveys the scene.

“Two for three,” he announces with expected nonchalance, though I see the nervousness in him. “We need them alive. Let’s get them back to the bank, secure them, and call for Maisie and Veronica. We can start questioning them once they’re stabilized.”

Bigby moves past me, wading through the water and scooping unconscious men up out of the swamp as he goes, as ifthis is a standard workday for him. It is. He clambers onto the boat and checks the men’s pulses. He’s methodical, calm.

“Unconscious but alive,” he reports. “We’ll need to patch them up before they bleed out.”

I give a short nod and turn back to Keira. She’s still staring at the man who escaped. On her face is a look I’ve never seen before.

“Keira,” I say again, more firmly this time. “We need to move.”

She blinks again, as if coming back to herself, and nods. “Right. I’m… I’m fine.” But her voice is distant.

We make our way back to the bank, dragging the two remaining men from the boat as carefully as we can manage. Byron is already on his phone. The swamp seems quieter now, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for what comes next.

Keira stands apart from the rest of us, her back turned to the water. She hasn’t said much since the shootout, and I can tell she’s shaken, though she’s trying to hide it. I want to ask her what’s going on and what’s really bothering her, but I know better than to push. Not here, not now.

Byron glances up from his phone, his expression serious. “Help’s on the way. Let’s make sure these guys are secure. We can’t afford to lose them.”

Bigby nods, already binding the wrists of the unconscious men with thick zip ties. I help him with the last one, my mind still on Keira, who lingers at the edge of the group, lost in her own thoughts. Something about tonight has rattled her more than the mission itself.

But she won’t explain, and I won’t force her to. I hardly have the right.

Chapter 11 - Keira

Three days. It’s been three days.

I have started to grow used to the dark. I’ve counted every breath, every heartbeat, waiting for something—anything—to break the silence. I think of Ado all the time. I try to imagine what he’s doing right now, where he is.

He must be coming for me. He must.

I stiffen when the footsteps echo down the long hallway, as they have every few hours for the last few days. I feel each and every muscle in my body lock like a spring. The sound of boots on concrete echoes off the stone walls, growing louder, heavier.

I force myself to sit up straighter, trying to prepare for whatever comes next. The small hatch at the bottom of the cell door clatters open, and a stale hunk of bread is shoved through, skidding across the floor toward me. I stare at it for a moment before looking up, meeting the gaze of the shadow behind the barred door.

“Eat up,” my captor says, his voice a low sneer. He’s just a silhouette, but the threat in his voice is enough to shake me. “And if you start screaming again, I’ll cut out your tongue. You try anything, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

I meet his gaze, refusing to look away, even as every instinct shrieks at me to stay quiet, to comply. But I’ve never been good at that. Not even here.

“What’s the matter?” I say, forcing a wry smile. “Afraid of a little noise? Or are you just scared someone might hear me and realize you’re the one keeping me down here like a coward?”

There’s a pause. A long, tense silence. I half-expect him to lunge at me through the bars, but he lets out a low chuckle, cold and humorless.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he says. “Bet you thought that’d get you somewhere, huh? Must’ve worked for you in the past. Too bad no one can hear you down here, bitch.”

The word rolls off his tongue like poison, but I keep my expression steady, even though his words cut deeper than I’d like to admit. He’s right. No one can hear me. No one even knows where I am. I spent the first day and a half down here shouting myself hoarse, screaming for help until my voice broke. Until they came in and threatened to break something else if I didn’t shut up.

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