We’re not moving.
But then Max puts his hand on my arm. “Eve, it’s your call. If we go now, you’ll be free of this place. If we go back…”
“I have to go back.” I point in the direction of Benefield’s office. “It’s not that far.” Max glances where I point. “If we cut through there…” A shiver ripples down my spine as I point in the direction of the courtyard with the steel pole driven into the ground. PTSD much?
But I don’t care. If that ledger helps Max and his team recover just one of the girls who passed through this place, it’s worth the risk.
“You’re sure about this?” Max glances out into the hall. It’s been strangely quiet these past few minutes, but that can change any second.
“I am.”
Max and Knox do that thing again, their weird telepathic communication, then Max kicks off from the wall.
“You stick to me.” He grabs my wrist and places it at the small of his back. I grip the waistband of his pants and nod.
“I stick with you.”
“Let’s move out.” That comment isn’t for me, but rather Knox.
The two of them move as one, with me trailing behind Max. I tighten my grip on his waistband. No way am I getting separated from him.
We make our way to the end of the hall. Max glances right and pivots in that direction. I yank on his pants.
“It’s quicker through here.”
In front of us lies one of Benefield’s many trophy rooms. Long and narrow, the room cuts right through the center of The Retreat. From there, Benefield’s office is a quick walk through that horrific courtyard with the pole.
I have questions. Questions I can’t ask. Questions like, what are all the explosions? The gunfire? Who are Benefield’s men shooting at? It feels like an all-out war is in progress, yet again, there’s an eerie sense of dead calm.
It’s been minutes since we’ve seen any of Benefield’s men, heard any gunfire, or felt another explosion.
What’s going on?
The not knowing makes my anxiety spike. As if it’s not already spiking.
I point to the door to the trophy room. Max moves up to it. He halts right outside. Slowly, he grips the door handle. A glance to Knox. A nod exchanged.
Max opens the door, kicking it with his foot, as Knox charges in. Knox sweeps his weapon left then right, then aims it straight ahead.
“Clear.”
The moment Knox calls out, Max draws me into the room. He closes the door behind us. He and Knox move stealthily toward the opposite door while I bumble along behind them.
Seriously, how do they do that?
It’s a long, narrow room filled with precious art, stuffed trophy animals—mostly endangered species. A black panther stares down at me. His glassy green gaze judging. We move past a Bengal tiger, rearing up with paws raised, mouth wide, canines ready to rip and rend. There are beautiful birds, with incredible plumage in all colors of the rainbow, mounted on the walls, dangling from the ceiling, and posed on the floor.
This room always fascinated me with its macabre beauty. With no regard for life of any kind, Benefield snuffed out the lives of these animals solely for the purpose of putting them on display here. I hate how the lives of these magnificent creatures were brutally taken, but there’s beauty here as well. A weird dissonance consumes me as I admire and hate everything in this room.
Max continues forward. The slow chugging of his breath the only sound I hear. Knox finally comes to the far end of the room. He places his hand on the door and closes his eyes. Next, he leans close and puts his ear to the wood.
Long seconds pass.
With a look to Max, he gives the signal.
Again, Max is the one to open the door. Knox is the first one through. Max follows, and I trail behind them both. Once in the hall, I point to the left. We head that way until we come to the entrance of that courtyard I hate so much.
It stands empty, except for that pole. Last time I was here, I thought Max was a monster fighting for the right to have me. Little did I know the truth. It’s sobering, really, knowing he willingly put his life on the line to save mine. I don’t think I would be that brave.
I could never be that selfless.
Max and Knox pause yet again. It’s incredible watching them work together. We move at what seems to be a snail’s pace yet continue to cover a great deal of ground.
As we work our way to Benefield’s office, I’m well aware how far it takes us from getting out of here.
Knox mentioned something about a breach. I can only assume those explosions created holes in the defensive walls which surround this place. Those holes are, more than likely, heavily defended by Benefield’s men by now.
I don’t see how we’re getting out that way, but Max doesn’t seem concerned. If he’s not worried, I won’t be either. He asked if I trusted him.
I trust him with my life.
We cross the courtyard without incident. I give that pole a heated glare as we pass, but that’s it. There’s no time to think about the agony I endured tied there for hours or the fight between Max and the other man.
Once we pass through the courtyard, we turn left at the next intersection.
Distant gunshots sound off to the right. I want to ask Max about that. Who are Benefield’s guards shooting at?
“Second door on the right,” I whisper to Max, although there’s no reason to tell him where to go. He and Knox seem to know this place nearly as well as I do.
Knox pauses at the door. He listens again. Another nod. Max reaches for the doorknob. He twists. It doesn’t budge.
Locked.
I didn’t think about that.
Not that it stops Max. He takes the butt end of his weapon and slams it down hard on the handle. The doorknob falls to the floor, and just like that, we’re in.
Max moves us inside, then shuts the door behind us.
“Where?” He glances around the room, but he’s not going to find the ledger.
Benefield keeps it hidden.
I release the death grip I have on Max’s waistband and head directly to the small secretary desk pushed into an unobtrusive corner. Benefield’s massive mahogany desk dominates the room, but he doesn’t keep anything important there.
I also know where he keeps the key to the secretary’s desk. I fish around in a nearby fern until I find the long metal key. Moving quickly, I unlock the desk, roll back the top, and locate the secret compartment where the ledger is kept.
I pull it out and hold it tight to my chest.
I have it. I have all the names. All the lives. And if I don’t know what to do with it, Max and whoever he works with certainly must. A stack of papers on the desk catches my eye. I lean forward.
“Eve, we need to leave.” Max joins me at the desk while Knox guards the door.
My hand moves on its own to the stack of papers. Not papers really. They’re bills of lading. I flip through them, not believing what I’m seeing.
“Eve?”
Bills of lading. Documents of title. Receipts for shipped goods. Contracts between a carrier and shipper. Documents that accompany shipped goods, signed by authorized representatives of the carrier, the shipper, and the receiver.
Benefield’s name flows across the paper. Then there’s another name, one I don’t know. Finally, there’s a third name. A name I know all too well; Carson Deverough.