Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 288

“Let her go.” Larson’s voice was calm, almost indifferent.

“Let her go?” Latham sounded genuinely surprised. This wasn’t like Larson at all—he’d expected him to make her suffer, to drag things out until she begged for mercy.

Larson only nodded. “Yes. Sometimes, letting the wolves tear each other apart makes for a more entertaining show.”

Latham quickly agreed and hung up.

He’d almost asked, “Aren’t you worried she’ll cause more trouble once she’s free?” But the thought vanished as quickly as it came. With Mr. Rossi around, there was no way she’d do anything to hurt the old man or Miss Bennett. As for the rest, let the world burn—it was none of their concern.

Larson returned to the hospital room, quietly resuming his vigil beside his grandmother and Emma.

***

Somewhere, in a pitch-black basement—

Cecilia huddled in a corner, shivering uncontrollably.

She’d been dragged here. She didn’t know who had taken her, didn’t know where she was, or even how long she’d been locked up.

Her phone had been confiscated the moment she was grabbed. After that, it was a blur—a car ride, then darkness. She had no idea if it was night or day outside, how much time had passed, or if rescue would ever come. There was nothing to eat.

She was starving.

But more than hunger, she felt terror.

The men who’d snatched her—especially their leader—were terrifying in a way that made her skin crawl just remembering him.

She racked her memory but couldn’t recall ever meeting anyone like him.

The moment they’d thrown her in here—literally thrown, down a flight of stairs—she’d tumbled over and over until she crashed to a stop, every part of her body screaming in pain. She didn’t know if anything was broken, but it felt like she’d been dismantled and put back together wrong.

Then, a single dim bulb flickered to life overhead.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs.

Several men descended.

The leader wore sunglasses.

Only one question, simple and direct.

Cecilia’s mind spun. “You’re with Emma, aren’t you? She sent you?”

The man turned to his assistant. “Do we have a shipment leaving port in the next couple of days?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cecilia’s mind reeled. Business? Now?

The man’s smile was cold. “Miss Katherine, you’ve been back for a while, haven’t you? Missed Mr. Ford? Why don’t you take a trip back with our cargo ship? I promise, we’ll make sure you arrive safe and sound.”

Cecilia’s face went deathly pale.

His meaning was clear: either he really would send her back—no, she’d never go back! Or… the other possibility was too awful to contemplate.

The ocean was vast. Who knew where they’d dump her body, or what would be waiting on the other side? Or maybe they’d just toss her into the water halfway there, leave her to the sharks, and she’d vanish without a trace.

She stared at the man, feeling as if she were facing a viper poised to strike.