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Chapter 14

My heart lurches out of my chest as we abruptly stop. The security guys exit the car, slamming the doors more forcefully than necessary. Guess it can't be helped when you're built like a brick shithouse.

The boot repeatedly opens and slams shut, making me wince each time. After about ten minutes, they force me out of the car. One of the big bastards cuts the rope binding my wrists with a pocketknife, then whips off the blindfold a little too roughly for my liking. I rub my eyes, trying to adjust to the white lights while scanning my surroundings. We're tucked right in the corner of an almost empty car park. There's not a soul in sight. Graffiti covers the walls, and stray litter is scattered across the floor. The smell of salty seawater tickles my nostrils, so we must be close to the port.

"Here, take these," one man grunts.

He goes to hand me the keys, passport, and ticket but then pulls away just as I try to reach for them. I roll my eyes and huff.

"No fucking around, alright?" He scowls.

"I wouldn't dare, sunshine," I mock, flashing him my fakest smile.

"Good," he grumbles before handing the documents over.

After hours of silence, the second security guy comes over and finally speaks, "We're five minutes away from the port. Take that car and follow us there, ok?" His voice is scarily deep. An awkward laugh escapes me at the thunderous sound. No wonder he's been quiet, that's one freaky ass voice.

"Something funny?" he asks.

"Nope," I say, popping the p.

"You won't be laughing if you fuck this up," he bites, eyes pinching together.

His words are a bitter reminder of what's at stake. My chest contracts as I think about Eden alone in that hollow room, counting on me to keep him alive. A wave of nausea rolls through me.

"Let's go," he barks while shooting me a glare. These psychos have no chill.

I follow the hench fucks a few spaces across to a relatively new silver Ford Focus. I've never driven these cars, but they're pretty standard, so it should be easy to navigate. I unlock the car, slide in, adjust the seat and mirrors, and seize the steering wheel.

Fuck, so this is it. I'm about to smuggle drugs. A hot flush rushes through me, and my sweaty hands open and close around the steering wheel.

If going to prison was the only risk, I'd walk straight up to the border control and say hey, check out my boot. But the thought of getting caught and Eden losing his life is almost too much to bear. I don't think I'd ever get over it. I'm in too deep now. His heart is impossibly wound around mine as if it were one.

As the big bastards back out of their parking space, I engage the clutch and set off behind them. As we drive the short distance to the ferry port, I sneak glances out of the window at ordinary people going about their everyday business without a care in the world. I spot two men holding hands and walking along a busy street with their heads thrown back, laughing at each other. My heart longs for such simple things. What if Eden and I never get that? What if we don't survive? A bitter cocktail of fear and anger swirls around my stomach at what may be taken from us. I swallow the lump in my throat and blink away the tears fogging my vision.

"Get it together, Kai," I mumble to myself.

The security park up, and I idle beside them, unsure what to do next. The guy with the scarily deep voice points at the long queue leading towards the port entrance. I freeze, my body clearly protesting at what I'm about to do. A car behind me beeps its horn, making me recoil. I kick back into action and drive towards the foreseeable disaster.

The queue moves at a snail's pace. As each minute passes, I feel myself getting more agitated. Why me? After the shit luck I've had with my family, surely, I don't deserve to be bloody trafficked. They say trauma builds character. Well, I say fuck trauma. I have more than enough character to last me a lifetime. All I want is a peaceful little life with my sensitive beefcake. I'm not asking for much.

I'm a couple of cars away now, and my temperature soars. I rub the back of my hand over my damp brow and try to control my rocky breath. I finally reach the booth where border control is checking passports and fumble with the window button. I can tell the officer is growing frustrated as he rolls his eyes. Finally, it opens, and I hand over my passport and ticket with trembling hands.

He has dark skin, broad shoulders and a shaved head. He squints at my passport and then examines me with scrutiny. I clench my hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

"What's the purpose of your visit?" he asks in a thick cockney accent.

"Ju-just going on holiday," I stutter.

"Alone?" he asks, raising a critical eyebrow.

"Erm, no, I'm meeting a friend," I rush out, unsure of what I'm saying.

"Are you staying with this friend?" The lilt in his voice indicates clear suspicion.

"No, we're going to travel around."

I'm probably digging myself into a deeper hole, but my brain and mouth are on two different planets.

His mouth scrunches up, and his eyebrows draw together. Fuck, he's onto me. He makes a prolonged, "Hmmm," sound before handing my passport back. I feel my shoulders sag in relief. The worst part is over.

Forcing an aching smile, I put the car into gear, but as I take off, the car rumbles, and my insides clench as it stalls. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, and a bead of sweat drips into my eye.

This is it. They can see right through me. I'm a fucking wreck.

"Come on, son, people are waiting," the man groans, then kisses his teeth.

"Sorry, sorry, ok," I ramble, turning on the engine and making my escape.

I keep driving and notice cars entering a large metal structure resembling a car wash. When realisation hits me, my heart thunders, and blood rushes to my face, making me light-headed. No, this can't be happening. I've only ever flown, so I had no idea there would be a massive fucking X-ray. Those bastards.

There's not a chance in hell ten kilos of drugs is going to get past that thing. The soul-crushing feeling that sits in my chest is something I've never experienced before. I feel like I'm outside of my body, observing my downfall.

Eden is going to die, and it's going to be because of me. For the first time in days, I wish I'd never met him. I wish I could turn back time and not reply to his first message because he'd be alive. He'd have the chance to be happy and grow old.

It's my turn to go through the machine, and I hesitate. An officer with a face like a slapped arse motions for me to keep driving into the tunnel. As I enter, I suck in a deep breath and brace myself for my personal Armageddon.

I make it to the other side, and an officer with ginger hair and a thick, wiry beard motions for me to pull over. He taps his knuckles on the window, so I roll it down. Warm green eyes settle on me with a friendly smile to match.

"Do you mind stepping out of the car, sir? We just need to do a routine check."

"Erm, ok," I murmur, cracking an unnatural smile.

"Please leave your keys in the ignition and any other belongings inside the car."

My head spins, but I somehow scramble out.

"Please stand over there with my colleague."

He points to a bald, stocky man wearing heavy military gear. I shove my hands in my pockets to hide the noticeable tremor and walk over on unsteady legs. Watching him inspect the car makes my heart palpitate. It takes all my strength to control my wild breaths, so I don't draw more attention to myself.

The guy checking my car swipes a brush over the steering wheel and door handles, then tests it. I can only assume he's testing for traces of drugs. I feel myself boiling up as I wait for the inevitable result.

"Please come over here, sir," the ginger guy calls.

As I walk over, my heart shatters. I know it's over. I'm not sure If I can live with myself after this.

"Ok, good to go." He smiles widely as if his football team just won the Premier League.

I stand there stunned, unable to move. I was so ready to lose everything.

"On your way now, sir," he says sternly.

I climb into the car and fasten my seat belt as fast as I can. Before taking off, he leans down into the open window and winks at me with a dirty grin spread across his face. That's when I realise, this sweet-as-pie guy is part of it. He knows what's inside the car. Anger bubbles in my core at the abuse of power and the smugness of the slimy bastard. I can't help but grimace at him before turning on the engine and getting the fuck out of there.

* * *

I managed the crossing without any more spontaneous checks. When I make my way off the ferry onto the road, I remember that in France they drive on the opposite side of the road. I've never driven abroad before, so that's another thing to add to my list of things I could potentially fuck up. I sit forward in my seat, practically licking the windscreen and clutching the steering wheel in a death grip like it will somehow stop me from crashing.

Floundering with the satnav, I find the only address programmed and make my way to the drop-off point just over 25 minutes away. As I drive, I pass a police car and my skin prickles. I don't release my breath until they're a distant blob in the rear-view mirror.

I try to focus my eyes, but my left eye keeps twitching. If all this stress has made me develop a tick, I'll be pissed.

Adrenaline courses through my veins the closer I get to my destination, making me feel wired like I've sniffed half a gram of coke.

When I arrive at an empty clearing facing a body of murky water, I cut the engine and take in my eerie surroundings. There's no one else here, just water, tall trees, overgrown grass and a small car park. My heart hammers at the vast emptiness. A sense of loneliness assaults me, and my mind starts to tick. I'm in the wrong place. They think I've tried to escape. I triple-check the address to ensure I'm where I should be. Breathing out a sigh of relief when I confirm I'm in the right spot.

I wind down my window to let in fresh air. The smell of moss and dampness seeps inside the car. It should be pleasant, but everything about it feels wrong. The scent feels dirty in my nostrils. I can sense the coldness of this environment. I'm not safe here.

Tyres crunching across gravel alert me to their arrival. Checking the rear-view mirror, I see a blacked-out Mercedes creeping closer, and I feel queasy. I can't help but check my reflection, even though I know it won't be pretty. Dark circles frame my eyes, my lips are chapped, and my shaved head makes me feel exposed. My nose stings with the urge to cry, but I blink hard and flex my fingers, trying to expel the pent-up anxiety flowing freely through my body. I have no idea who these people are. I need to appear somewhat together, so they don't fuck with me. The sooner the deal is done, the sooner I can return to Eden.

They pull up behind me, blocking my escape route. After several excruciating minutes, a wide-chested man steps out. He has long jet-black hair tied into a man bun and a thick, oily beard. He's dressed in all black, and his obscene size reminds me of the security guys who work for Dr Evil. I guess hench bastard was on the job description.

The passenger side door swings open and out steps another man. He's tall and almost as big but with short, mousy brown hair and spotty cheeks. He's also dressed in black. The long-haired guy taps his knuckles on the window, so I reluctantly roll it down.

"Derrick?" he asks in a potent French accent.

I nod, unable to form words. He scans the back seats and then nods at his colleague, seeming satisfied that I'm alone.

"Hands where I can see them, then get out," he commands.

You wouldn't want to bump into him in a dark alley. There's an unhinged look in his midnight eyes.

I hastily climb out of the car with my hands raised. He grips my shoulder with impressive force, causing a shooting pain to shoot up the side of my neck. Leading me to the back of the car, he blindfolds me, binds my wrists with rope, and then drags me to their car.

"Get in, and don't fucking move," he demands.

Terror encompasses me. Why the fuck has he tied me up and covered my eyes? Where are they taking me? Distorted thoughts invade my already fragile mind. What if it's not just drugs they traffic? What if I'm part of the deal? My racing heart tries to punch out of my weak chest as I wait for their next move.

The twitch in my eye becomes erratic. I try to force it to stop by keeping my eyes open under the blindfold, but it persists. I feel like I'm falling apart. At any moment, the remainder of my hair and teeth will fall out, and my skin will slip from my bones. This whole ordeal has altered something inside my psyche. I feel as if all my old scars have been torn wide open, and dirt has poured into the wounds, poisoning my blood with infection. Everything I should've felt for all these years has crept to the surface.

If Eden's life didn't depend on me completing this job, I'd be tempted to drive this car into the lake. The sinister thought catches me off guard. I've never thought about not wanting to be here. Not wanting to be alive, even when I was at my lowest point. But at this moment, it's all too much. I'm tired. Tired of surviving.

Your family never wanted you. You're a burden. You don't deserve love. If these people took you and you disappeared, it would be for the best.Unsavoury thoughts come at me from every angle, drowning me in a pool of self-pity. I'm so caught up in my spiralling thoughts that I jump out of my skin when the door swings open.

"We're done. Get out," man bun barks.

I ease myself out of the car, stumbling as I try to find balance behind the blindfold. He leads me back to the Ford with a crushing palm wrapped around the back of my sweaty neck. He cuts the ropes around my wrist, and I wait for further instruction while my vision is still impaired, hearing the gravel crunch as he retreats. The slam of the car doors and engine roar make my body tense. When I'm sure they're gone, I yank the blindfold off, fall to my knees and release a loud sob that's been itching to escape for hours.

Gravel pierces my knees and palms. I gather it up in my hands and squeeze it tight, basking in the feel of it, making small cuts on my tender palms. When I draw blood, I release it and brush my hands against my jeans, leaving flecks of red on my pale jeans.

Swiping the tears and snot from my face with my sleeve, I climb to my feet and slam my eyes shut. I stand there momentarily, listening to birds singing and trees swishing in the wind, trying to ground myself before my return journey. A dog barking pulls me back to my ominous reality. It's time to leave. The deal is done, and I can get back to him.

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