Chapter 16 – Echoes of Control
Sarah jolted awake, a sudden wave of nausea crashing over her like a storm-tossed wave. Her stomach lurched violently, and she barely registered her surroundings as she scrambled to find something—anything—to quell the impending sickness. Before she could move, a trash can was thrust into her hands. She clutched it gratefully, retching as her vision swam.
A gentle hand held back her hair, cool fingers brushing against her neck. As the nausea subsided, Sarah looked up, following the arm to find Rose gazing down at her. Her stepmother's expression was unreadable, a mixture of concern and something else—something that made Sarah's skin prickle.
"Take deep breaths," Rose murmured, her tone soft yet distant. She took the trash can from Sarah and disappeared through a nearby door. The sound of running water hinted at a bathroom beyond.
Sarah sank back against the plush pillows, her heart pounding. She took a moment to survey her surroundings. The room was small but elegantly furnished, the low ceiling and round windows unmistakable indicators that she was on a boat—a yacht, most likely. Panic flickered at the edges of her mind.
Glancing down, she noticed her clothes had been changed. She was wearing a soft blue pajama set made of silky fabric that felt foreign against her skin. A shudder of violation coursed through her. Who had changed her? How long had she been unconscious?
Rose returned, carrying a bottle of water and a cool washcloth. She handed the water to Sarah and gently pressed the cloth against her forehead. "Sip slowly," she advised, her eyes drifting to Sarah's midsection.
Sarah followed Rose's gaze to her own growing bump. The protective instinct surged within her, and she placed a hand over her stomach.
Rose hesitated before speaking. "You know," she began quietly, "Your father and I tried for years to have a baby. We even went through IVF treatments. You were still little maybe 6 or 7." She paused, a flicker of pain crossing her features. "I had a miscarriage. After that... I just couldn't handle trying again."
Sarah was caught off guard. This was a side of Rose she hadn't seen before—vulnerable, almost human. But the empathy was quickly overshadowed by a swirl of emotions: exhaustion, fear, anger. She didn't know how to respond, her mind too clouded to process the confession fully.
Rose didn't look at Sarah as she spoke again, her voice quieter now. "You're lucky, Sarah. Even if you don't see it right now, you have something… special."
The words hung in the air, and Sarah felt her throat tighten. She couldn't decide what she wanted to do more—thank Rose for the moment of vulnerability or shove her out of the why and make a run for it.
"Why are you telling me this?" Sarah finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rose sighed, folding the washcloth methodically. "Perhaps I thought you'd understand. Things haven't been easy between us, but... we're still family."
Family. The word felt hollow. Sarah considered pleading with Rose to let her go, to help her escape. But doubt gnawed at her. Could she trust Rose? As she contemplated her next move, the door burst open.
"Sarah! You're awake!" Wheezie exclaimed, her face lighting up with genuine excitement. She bounded across the room and leaped onto the bed, wrapping her arms tightly around Sarah's neck.
A new emotion flooded through Sarah—love. Relief. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed her little sister until this very moment. She returned the embrace, holding Wheezie close.
"I can't believe I'm going to be an aunt!" Wheezie squealed, pulling back to place a hand gently on Sarah's belly. Her eyes sparkled with joy, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.
Sarah's heart clenched. Did Wheezie know what had happened? Did she realize that their father had once again overstepped every boundary, taking Sarah against her will? She studied her sister's face, searching for any hint of awareness, but found only innocence.
"I missed you, Wheeze," Sarah said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her sister's face.
Wheezie grinned. "You have no idea how boring it is without you around. And now there's going to be a baby! When are you due? Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"
Questions tumbled out of her, one after another, providing a momentary distraction from the gravity of the situation. Sarah managed a small smile. "It's still a bit early to know."
Rose cleared her throat, drawing their attention. "Wheezie, give your sister some space. She's still recovering."
Wheezie pouted but relented, settling herself at the foot of the bed. "Dad said we might go to the Europe next. Wouldn't that be fun?"
Sarah's eyes widened. That meant they were still on the move. She needed more information but had to tread carefully.
"Yeah, that could be nice," Sarah replied cautiously. "But, Wheeze, has Dad said anything else? About why we're... here?"
Wheezie shrugged. "Just that he wanted us all to spend some time together. Like a family vacation."
A knot formed in Sarah's stomach. Ward was spinning his own narrative, keeping Wheezie in the dark. She shot a glance at Rose, who avoided her gaze.
"I think Sarah needs to rest," Rose interjected, her tone leaving little room for argument. "Why don't you go find something for us to do later?"
"Okay," Wheezie agreed reluctantly. She gave Sarah another quick hug before skipping out of the room.
The door clicked shut, leaving Sarah alone with Rose once more. An uncomfortable silence settled between them.
"Why are you doing this?" Sarah demanded, her voice firm despite the tremor she felt inside.
Rose met her eyes. "Because we care about you. Your father is trying to protect you—from making mistakes you can't undo."
"By kidnapping me? Drugging me?" Sarah's voice rose. "This isn't protection; it's control."
Rose sighed. "Sometimes we have to make hard choices for the people we love."
Sarah shook her head, disbelief and anger bubbling within her. "You can't keep me here forever."
"Just until things settle down," Rose replied calmly. "Get some rest."
With that, she turned and left the room, the door locking with an audible click.
Sarah exhaled shakily, her mind racing. She was on a boat, confined to a room, with her father calling the shots once again. But she wasn't the same girl she used to be. She had allies, people who cared about her—people who would come for her.
She moved to the small round window, peering out at the expanse of water. The horizon stretched endlessly, but somewhere out there were the Pogues. John B.
Pressing a hand against the cool glass, she whispered, "Find me."
The bungalow was thick with tension, the kind of electric energy that buzzed just beneath the surface, threatening to snap at any moment. John B sat on the floor by the door, his back against the peeling wood, one knee drawn up, his head resting against it. His hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles white. The only thing keeping him from charging out the door and storming the Cameron estate on Paradise Island was JJ's near tackle earlier.
JJ paced nearby, the occasional glance toward John B laced with concern. His usual bravado was muted, replaced by a sharp, restless energy that kept him moving. "We need a plan," he said, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "A real one. Not just 'march in and hope for the best.' That's how we get caught—or worse."
Pope sat at the table, maps and notes spread out in front of him, a pen tapping rhythmically against his notebook. Cleo leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, her expression focused but thoughtful.
Kiara perched on the edge of the couch, her leg bouncing nervously. She kept stealing glances at JJ, noticing that he seemed to find excuses to brush against her shoulder, touch her hand, or rest his arm against her leg as he passed. She wasn't sure if he was trying to comfort her or himself, but the subtle contact grounded her in a way she didn't expect.
"We need to split up," Pope said, breaking the silence. "Cover more ground. JJ, Ki, and John B can head to the Cameron estate, the way we came in when we stole the jet skis. We know the layout. Maybe you can spot something—find a weak point."
"Good idea," Cleo chimed in. "Pope and I can check in with my contacts. Someone's gotta know something. Things like this don't exactly slip through unnoticed, even here."
JJ nodded, his pacing slowing slightly. "Yeah, okay. But we don't do anything stupid. Recon only. We get eyes on Sarah, figure out what we're up against, and then we regroup."
John B's head snapped up, his expression hard. "If you see her, you get her out. I don't care about regrouping.
JJ stopped in his tracks, meeting his best friend's gaze. "And what if we get caught, huh? What good does that do her—or you?"
John B's jaw tightened, his hands clenching against his knees. "She's out there, JJ. She's scared, and she's pregnant, and I put her in this mess. I can't just sit here."
JJ sighed, running a hand through his hair. He crouched down in front of John B, his tone firm but softer. "I get it, man. I do. But if we're gonna get her back, we gotta be smart about it. No charging in like a bull in a china shop."
Kiara moved to sit beside John B, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "We're not leaving her, John B. We'll get her back. But JJ's right—we can't mess this up."
John B let out a shaky breath, nodding reluctantly. "Fine. But the second we know where she is, we move. No hesitation."
The group exchanged glances, a silent agreement passing between them.
As they hashed out the details, Kiara became increasingly aware of JJ's presence. His hand brushed her back as he passed behind her, his fingers lingered against hers when he handed her a flashlight, and his leg pressed against hers as they leaned over the map together. She found herself leaning into the contact, craving the quiet reassurance it brought.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His jaw was tight, his eyes flicking between the map and Pope as they discussed the best route to the Cameron estate. He was tense, but beneath it, she could see the worry etched into his features.
"Hey," she said softly, her voice just loud enough for him to hear.
He looked at her, his blue eyes softening for a moment. "Yeah?"
"You okay?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
JJ hesitated, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table. "I will be," he said finally. "When we get her back."
Kiara nodded, her hand brushing against his as she reached for the flashlight again. His fingers curled around hers briefly, a silent promise passing between them.
Pope spread out another map, tracing a route with his finger. "This is the path we took last time," he said, his tone measured. "Come in from the water again, avoid the cameras."
"Cleo and I will check the docks first," he added. "If Ward's on the move, someone's bound to have seen his boat or know about the private plane. If not, we'll start asking questions at the marinas."
John B stood, his resolve hardening. "Let's gear up. We don't have time to waste."
The group dispersed, gathering supplies and preparing for what lay ahead. As Kiara packed her bag, she felt JJ's hand brush against hers again. This time, she didn't question it. She squeezed his fingers briefly before letting go, the unspoken connection between them a steadying force in the chaos.
The trek to the Cameron estate was a tense one, the familiar path through the brush and rocky beach terrain bringing back memories of past escapades. JJ led the way, Kiara close behind, with John B bringing up the rear. His gaze was fixed ahead, his jaw clenched tightly.
As they reached the edge of the water, the imposing silhouette of the Cameron house loomed in the distance. The luxury of the estate, with its pristine landscaping and grand architecture, contrasted sharply with the tension and grit of their current mission.
JJ crouched behind a cluster of palms, motioning for the others to do the same. "Alright," he whispered. "Same route as last time. We stick to the shadows, avoid the cameras. Ki, you remember the gate code?"
She nodded, pointing to a narrow strip of beach just out of sight of the house. "Yep. Should be Sarah's birthday unless Ward changed it."
John B's voice was tight as he spoke. "Let's move."
Back at the docks, Cleo and Pope wove through the bustling marina, Cleo's sharp eyes scanning every face and vessel. She led them to a small tiki bar tucked between two shipping warehouses, where a grizzled man in a straw hat sat nursing a drink.
"Darius," Cleo greeted smoothly, sliding onto the stool beside him. "Long time."
Darius looked up, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. "Cleo. You're like a bad penny, always turning up."
Cleo smirked. "You love it. Listen, I need info. Big boat, private, probably came in a few days ago. Owned by a guy who thinks money buys loyalty. Ring any bells?"
Darius leaned back, considering. "Maybe. What's it worth to you?"
Pope stepped forward, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. "How's this for starters?"
Darius eyed the money, then Cleo. "You always did know how to pick your friends. Alright, I'll bite. There was a yacht came in three nights ago. No name on it, but it was fancy. Didn't stay long, though. Headed out yesterday, south."
"South?" Pope repeated, frowning. "Toward the Exumas?"
"Probably," Darius said with a shrug. "That's rich folk territory. You ask me, that's where you'll find them."
Cleo nodded, slipping him the cash. "Thanks, Darius. You didn't see us."
"Never do," he replied with a sly grin.
Meanwhile, at the Cameron house, the trio crept along the edge of the property, keeping low as they moved through the dense foliage. JJ signaled for them to stop, his eyes narrowing as he pointed toward the main house.
"There," he whispered. "Top floor. Someone's moving."
Kiara squinted, following his line of sight. A shadow passed by the window, tall and deliberate.
"That's Ward," John B said, his voice low and taut. "I'd know his walk anywhere."
JJ glanced at him, his brow furrowed. "Okay, so Ward's here. But where's Sarah?"
John B's fists clenched at his sides. "She's here. I know it."
"Let's not assume anything," Kiara said, her voice calm but firm. "We need to get closer. See if there's any sign of her."
They moved closer, hugging the shadows of the property's perimeter. The sound of voices drifted down from an open window, but the words were indistinct.
JJ glanced at Kiara again, his hand brushing hers briefly as they crouched behind a cluster of bushes.
As they settled into position, John B's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, his heart skipping at the sight of Pope's name.
"We've got a lead," Pope said quickly. "There was a mega yacht docked round the island for a few days and was seen heading south toward the Exumas. That might be them."
John B's grip on the phone tightened. "We're at the house now. Ward's here."
"Then he's not on the boat," Pope replied, his voice grim.
A faint hum began to grow in the distance, cutting through her words. JJ froze, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head. "Do you hear that?"
The hum grew louder, morphing into the unmistakable thrum of helicopter blades slicing through the air. The Pogues exchanged wide-eyed looks, their breaths hitching in unison.
"Pope," Kiara hissed into the phone, her voice sharp. "There's a helicopter."
The sound grew deafening as the helicopter descended, its rotors kicking up clouds of dust and debris. It was heading toward a clearing on the far edge of the Cameron property.
"Helicopter?" Pope's voice crackled through the line. "Are you kidding me?"
"Not kidding," Kiara snapped, ducking lower as she tried to get a clearer view. "It's landing now."
John B scrambled forward, his desperation breaking through his earlier paralysis. JJ grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. "Not yet, man. We need to see what's happening."
Kiara adjusted her binoculars, her heart pounding. She spotted Ward and Rafe jogging toward the helicopter, their suits flapping in the wind. Ward's face was set in grim determination, while Rafe's gaze darted nervously around the property.
"They're going for it," Kiara whispered. "Ward and Rafe are heading for the helicopter."
"What's Sarah's condition?" Pope asked urgently over the phone.
Kiara scanned the scene, her gut twisting. "I don't know. I don't see her. Just Ward and Rafe."
Kiara turned back to the binoculars, her pulse racing. The helicopter's engine roared louder as Ward and Rafe climbed aboard, disappearing into its cabin. Moments later, the rotors spun faster, the helicopter lifting off the ground in a haze of wind and noise.
"They're gone," Kiara said, her voice trembling slightly. "We need to move."
John B stood abruptly, his expression dark. "Wherever they're going, I'm following."
JJ exchanged a glance with Kiara, "I know they say love gives you wings but I think its metaphorical."
John B rolled his eyes but didn't respond, his mind clearly spinning with ideas. Kiara lowered the phone, glancing at John B, who sat heavily on the ground, his back against a tree. His hands were clenched, his jaw tight, the frustration radiating off him in waves.
"This yacht," John B said finally, his voice barely audible. "Could it be big enough to have a helipad?"
JJ leaned against a tree, his gaze flicking toward the ocean in the distance. "We're gonna need to steal a boat."
Kiara sighed, rubbing her temples. "Of course, we are."
The sound of the helicopter faded into the distance, leaving the Pogues standing in tense silence, their next steps uncertain but their resolve unwavering.
"Be safe," Pope said, his voice steady despite the tension. "Meet us back at the bungalow before JJ does anything stupid."
The call ended, and the three of them slipped out of the underbrush, their eyes on the fading helicopter as it cut across the horizon. Their next move was clear: wherever Ward and Rafe were going, the Pogues would be right behind them.