Page 60 of Silence and Surrender

“I’m coming, Isabella,” I whispered as London blurred past. “Hold on.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Isabella

The cold had become a living thing, wrapping around me like a shroud. I shifted against the metal floor of the shipping container, trying to find a position that would let me think past the chill seeping through my evening dress. The zip ties cut into my wrists with each movement, a biting reminder that I was now cargo.

Voices drifted through the ventilation holes—Russian mostly. They discussed me in the same detached tones we used for artwork at the bank. Transport conditions. Value assessments.

My stomach turned. How many other girls had I unknowingly documented, hidden behind manifests and shipping weights? How many lives had been reduced to numbers while I focused on authenticating brushstrokes?

A door clanged somewhere in the warehouse, followed by footsteps. I kept my breathing steady, feigning unconsciousness as they approached. The container door opened with a metallic groan.

“Still out?” English accent. Rodger.

“The drugs work well.” The second voice was heavier, accented. “Buyer will be pleased. She is...undamaged.”

The clinical assessment made my skin crawl, but I forced myself to remain still. To gather information like I would at an auction, noting every detail that might matter later.

If there was a later.

The door closed again, leaving me in the darkness. My head still felt heavy from whatever gas they’d flooded the tunnels with, but the fog was clearing enough to let fear creep in. Real fear, the kind that made it hard to breathe.

I thought of Colton. How his eyes had followed my every move in the office. How his hands had felt against me just hours ago, gentle despite the strength I knew he now possessed.

Would he find me? Could he find me?

The practical part of my mind—the part trained by years of authentication work—said no. This operation was too professional, too seasoned. I would disappear into carefully crafted paperwork, just another weight discrepancy in a shipping manifest.

But something else, something that had been growing since that night at his penthouse, whispered maybe. Because Colton wasn’t just the bank’s counsel anymore. Wasn’t just tailored suits and rigid control. He was the man who’d started training because he refused to be helpless.

The man who made my heart beat faster even now, in this cold, dark place.

More voices passed outside, discussing loading schedules and tide tables. I caught fragments about Rotterdam, about buyers waiting, about euros and moving money.

The container vibrated slightly—machinery moving somewhere in the warehouse. Probably loading other containers. Other girls? The thought made vomit rise in my throat. How many were here right now, trapped in cold metal boxes?

I tested the zip ties again, methodically this time. Professional grade, like everything else about this operation. No sharp edges, nothing that could leave marks to decrease value.

“Time check?” A voice passed outside.

“Two hours until loading. Tide’s at three.”

Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes until I became someone else’s property. Moved out of the country. Lost forever.

Unless Colton found me first.

More footsteps approached, lighter this time. Dress shoes on concrete. The container door opened again, letting in a blast of warehouse air that felt warm compared to my metal prison.

“Get her up.” Rodger’s voice, closer now. “Her buyer wants a picture before finishing the transaction.”

Rough hands grabbed my arms, hauling me upright. I let my head loll, maintaining the drugged state even as I memorized every detail. Three men besides Rodger. Combat boots, tactical gear. Soldiers, not common thugs.

“Open those pretty eyes wide, Miss Delacroix.” Rodger’s voice held that same corporate bullshit tone he used at board meetings. “We both know you’re awake.”

I considered maintaining the pretense, but the game would only buy minutes at best. Instead, I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze with all the contempt I could muster.

“There you are.” His smile was razor-sharp, predatory. “My most valuable acquisition to date.”

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