A walk on thorns

Chapter 52| Secrets, Unfortunately

Sabrina's POV

For the past fifteen minutes, I had been searching for MJ, anxiety gnawing at the edges of my mind. Where is he? I dialed his number again, but the phone rang into the void. No answer. This isn't like him. I approached one of his boys, barely masking my concern.

"I saw him heading upstairs," the boy said casually, as if it were no big deal.

I nodded, pretending to be reassured, but a storm was brewing inside me. Why upstairs? What is going on? I waited a few more minutes, hoping MJ would emerge. When he didn't, I made up my mind. If he won't come to me, I'll find him myself.

I climbed the stairs, the air growing colder with each step. Everything felt wrong, charged with an unspoken tension. The dimly lit hallway stretched ahead, eerily quiet. Where are you, MJ? I peered into rooms, each one empty. Nothing. Still, something urged me forward, a whisper in my gut that refused to be ignored.

Then, I heard it. Muffled voices. Low. Urgent. I followed the sound, each step feeling heavier, like wading through quicksand. Curiosity burned through me, hot and insistent. I found myself standing before a slightly ajar door. I adjusted my face mask, pulling it higher. Better safe than sorry. The voices grew clearer now, sharp edges slicing through the quiet.

I nudged the door open just a fraction. Enough to see. Enough to hear. And there they were. Nadeera. Mukhtar. Mr. Fernandez. Another man I didn't recognize. Their faces were hard, lined with tension, and they all clutched files as if they held the keys to something dark.

I pressed my ear to the door, straining to catch every word.

"How many did you see there?" Mukhtar's voice, cold and clipped.

"Fifty-eight women and twenty-one men," Mr. Fernandez replied, his tone laced with frustration.

"That's what we have for now," Nadeera added, her voice tight, defensive.

"I am not taking this, dude! This is not the agreement," Fernandez snapped, his voice rising. "There were supposed to be sixty women and forty men, a hundred in total! And you're bringing me eighty-nine? This is unacceptable!"

A chill ran down my spine. Men and women? What agreement? What are they talking about?

"For goodness' sake, Mr. Fernandez, this is not an easy job!" Nadeera shot back, her voice shaking with barely contained anger. "Finding women these days isn't like before. Awareness is everywhere. Villages have NGOs now. People are scared. Only a few are willing to take the risk of crossing borders."

She paused, taking a breath before continuing, "As for the men, fooling them isn't easy either. Most know there are no jobs waiting for them. If we push too hard, someone will call the police. We're walking a tightrope here."

"Calm down," Mukhtar interjected, his tone smooth, practiced. Like a man used to diffusing bombs he helped create. "We can resolve this civilly. No need for shouting."

"There's nothing civil about this!" Fernandez growled. "It was a simple assignment, and you failed."

"There is no 'but' here, Mr. Fernandez," Mukhtar cut in, his voice turning steely. "Times have changed. Our agents are doing their best. Half my company is now built on clean fronts, precisely to avoid scrutiny. We share the risk, or we share nothing."

Fernandez exhaled sharply. "Fine. But I hope all the ladies are virgins."

"It would be a disgrace if they weren't," Nadeera assured him, her voice smug. "They are. You have no problem there."

My breath hitched. Virgins. Women. Mukhtar. A human trafficker. The words echoed in my head, refusing to settle. Ya Allah, what have I stumbled into? Does Anisha know? Is this the price of being the 'good wife'? Or is she just another pawn in this game?