What the hell? Jet thought when she’d returned to her cabin. She hadn’t expected that reaction, she could feel the tension in the room before the Sultan asked her to leave.

The folder! I should have grabbed it. Yes, you should have, dummy, her internal voice scolded.

Jet looked out the window from her cabin; the sun was setting. They have been in there a long time, she thought. Jet went back to the section of the boat where the conference room was located. It was empty. She also checked to see if they left her computer and folder. Nothing! Jet was about to return to her cabin when she ran into Seymour.

“Hello, dear,” Seymour said.

Jet glared at him but said nothing.

“The Sultan took his group of business associates for an early dinner. They should be back soon.”

Seymour looked at her.

“Do you need any help packing?”

“No! Stay away from me,” Jet said.

“Very well, my dear,” Seymour said as he left.

Something wasn’t right. The Sultan had made no moves to get her on a plane. She explored the boat. Perhaps the cabin boy could take her to the Sultan or Dr. Randy. She found the cabin boy near the kitchen. He was carrying a sandwich on a plate.

“Can you take me to Dr. Randy?” Jet said in a slow, deliberate voice. The boy seemed to have limited English, so she wasn’t sure he understood the question. The boy’s eyes widened.

“Randy, follow,” the boy said.

Jet followed the cabin boy to the rear of the vessel. The boy entered a cabin there, but she stayed in the hallway. She could make out two voices: Dr. Randy’s and Seymour’s.

“How do you want to contain the situation?” Seymour said.

“As gently as possible. She is injured, but a fighter,” Dr. Randy said.

“Should I use the chloroform again?”

“I think that is too harsh. We need to use something a little less invasive,” Dr. Randy said.

Jet’s heart leapt into her throat. I’m not letting those bastards hurt me again!

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

She went back to her cabin and found a small backpack that she had been using to hide protein bars, water bottles, and other supplies. She grabbed it, added her remaining clothes, and left the cabin. Nobody was visible in the cabin. Had the Sultan given his crew the night off?

She made her way to the deck. The cool breeze against her face was refreshing. Jet put on a sweater. She could see that the boat was still docked. She made her way down. The marina was unlike any other. It looked industrial. Several large, metal containers were visible. At the end of the dock, her exit was blocked by a large iron gate. She tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Boxes were stacked along each side of the gate. She climbed up onto one of the boxes, which was very difficult with her arm. From there, she noticed that the top of the gate had pointed metal barbs. “Damn it!” she hissed. The lack of light made reconnaissance difficult. She heard distant voices coming from the other side of the gate. Time to hide.

After some backtracking, Jet found a space between a box and the other side of the gate, which she ducked into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed your meal, my friend,” the Sultan said.

“It was wonderful,” another man said. She thought it might have been Grazie, but she wasn’t sure.

“Is she onboard now?” a man with a heavy accent said.

“She is, and has found the key to help our friends at Black Iris,” the Sultan said.

“After she does what you ask, then I can add her to my collection?” the accented man said.

“We will see about that,” the Sultan said.

They never intended to release me! Jet thought with alarm.

She heard a loud clanking sound, followed by a squeaking that could only be the gate.

What are they doing?

After almost a minute, the voices resumed.

“We’re going back up to the boat, Tony. Make sure you lock the gate before coming up,” the Sultan said.

Jet only heard Tony’s fumbling with the gate now.

She decided to make a move. She got up from her hiding spot. Tony—or Grazie, as she thought of him—was trying to rewrap the chain around the gate. He had gotten something stuck and was trying to straighten it.

“Screw this!” Tony shouted, then turned and froze.

“Is that you, little lady?” Grazie asked.

“Does the Sultan have any plans for releasing me?”

“Yeah, sure he does. Just not now. He says that you still have work to do.”

Jet flushed; a well of emotion overcame her. Fear, doubt, and then anger poured into her.

“Let me go!” she yelled.

Grazie laughed. “Now, why would I do that?”

She had a sudden painful memory of Jake grabbing her. Then she remembered the words of her tae kwon do instructor: Focus on the power of the kick. There is nothing else but that kick. Jet went from standing still to performing a roundhouse-style kick that struck Mr. Grazie square in the head. He went down.

“Whoa, why did—”

Another kick. This time it was easier because he was on his knees. She heard a snap, then a thud. He was no longer moving, or breathing as far as Jet could tell.

What have I done? I didn’t want to hurt him. I just wanted him to let me go!

She stepped around him and started pulling on the chain with her good hand. It clanked as it hit the metal portion of the gate. Then she remembered her training: slow, deliberate breaths. The chain felt lighter now. She continued this process until it was free from the gate. She heard a loud metal screech as she pushed it open.

Freedom!

Jet stood there for a long moment. Why was she feeling conflicted when freedom was this close?

She heard some yelling in the distance behind her, which snapped her out of her thoughts. She took action: she ran.