Chapter 128
~Soren-
“I don’t understand,” I admit, wondering while all this fuss over a shipping container. Maverick waves for us to follow, and we step under the police tape that is held with flag poles. I follow him and Damian down the sandy path, the crashing waves grow louder as we approach the container, and I can hear the murmurs and gasps from the people gathered around. The sound of feet shuffling through the sand and the occasional splash of water.
Upon reaching the scene, a sense of dread clutches my heart as my gaze is met with a sight more terrifying than I could have anticipated. The large metal container is partially submerged, water lapping around its rusted edges. There’s a crowd of people standing back, whispering among themselves, and I can feel the tension in the air.
“What’s going on?” I demand, striding toward the head council member, Clyde, when I spot him. Maverick follows me, trying to detour me. “My king, I suggest you don’t…” but his words come too late as my shoes are washed with the small waves, and I step over next to Clyde, who’s looking through the open doors on the container. The shipping container is rusted and partially submerged in water, with people. gathered around it and whispering to each other. The coroner and coast guard stand nearby, and I can see outlines of bodies under tarps–my breath lodges in my throat at the sight before me.
“What’s inside?” Damian asks, and I try to tell him not to look,
Chapter 128
knowing what I have seen can’t be unseen.
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“Bodies,” the council member says, and my stomach churns. “We’ve confirmed multiple fatalities.”
I exchange a glance with Damian, whose expression mirrors my horror. “How many?” I press the gravity of the situation settling heavily over us.
“We’ve pulled out at least a dozen. We’ve yet to get a full count,” Clyde replies, his gaze shifting to the coast guard standing next to the coroner. The tarps flutter in the sea breeze, offering glimpses of the shapes underneath. I force myself to swallow, bracing for what comes next. I
As people begin the grim task of extracting the bodies, an overpowering stench fills the air a nauseating mix of decay and death. Inside the container, bodies are piled haphazardly.
“What the hell happened here?” I mutter, feeling my heart.
race.
Damian’s brow furrows as he scans the scene. “Do we know where the container came from?”
I look at Clyde, who stares, eyes wide, but Maverick is the one who answers. “All we know is…”
“They’re all women and all feeders. The container has no defining marks.” my head whips in his direction.
“Feeders?” The word slips out of my mouth, laced with a potent cocktail of horror and disbelief. The grim reality of our call materializes, taking form in the gruesome scene unfolding before us. Either humans have descended into this monstrous trade of trafficking their own kind to satiate vampires, or even
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more horrifyingly, our own kin are involved in this gruesome
commerce.
Maverick affirms my worst suspicions with a slow, grave nod. His eyes portray a mirror image of my shock as the first of many children are extracted from the depths of the container. We stand aside, a respectful distance away, allowing the grim task to proceed without interference. Only when the horrific scene reaches its conclusion do we dare to encroach upon the space once filled with innocent lives.
Stepping into the claustrophobic confines of the container is an assault on my senses. The air is heavy with a stench that threatens to turn my stomach, bodily waste that pervades every inch of this makeshift prison. Blood smears the walls.
The sight that greets me the further I step in is no less. horrifying; countless women and children were crammed into this dark and dank space like so many sardines packed tightly in their tin can coffin. Their personal hell made true in the form of a shipping container.
My gaze traces a crimson trail smeared across the floor as bodies mashed together and collided. My eyes are drawn upwards to the walls, where deep gouges mar the cold metal surface. A chilling show of their futile struggle to escape.
