In the corner of my vision, I saw Angelo’s Adam’s apple bob, most likely fighting the urge to vomit, the same as I was experiencing. These naked females were all different—ethnicity, size, and race. Their horrid owners were being certain to have many flavors for the despicable to purchase as if merely examining a menu.
The man gestured to the child and woman and smiled at us. “Special price for the two?”
Speechless to the Godless land this Earth sometimes proved to be, I stayed quiet as Angelo shook his head. “No. I come for one only.”
When our crude tour guide noticed one doghouse had not been emptied, he lifted his shotgun and pointed. “You think I’m playin’?”
Boom!
Angelo’s hiss gained attention.
The man growled at him, “See something you don’t like?” as more men came out the front door to inquire about the shot. They all started laughing when hearing desperate squeals of pain and seeing blood seeping out from under the little house now casing what sounded like an injured child.
The woman who had been fighting tears stayed focused on her little girl. “Close your eyes. It’s okay, baby. Just do what you’re told.”
The little girl sniffled, her eyes slamming shut as she nodded.
“I asked you a question!” yelled the man to Angelo as he dared to raise his shotgun in my best friend’s direction.
I was done with this asshole.
So, I shot him.
The man grabbed his foot, howling like a lunatic with no tolerance for pain. I wondered if now was a good time to ask if he still thought the screaming child was laughable. It took immense restraint to not go stomp on his injured foot, then shoot the other one. Maybe I would’ve had his ‘buddies’ not been retrieving their own guns. Not that I truly cared. No one was ever going to shoot Angelo, or even threaten to, in front of me, not without repercussions. Bold response, maybe, but a line had been drawn. Don’t fuck with Angelo.
Am I clear, you disgusting inbreeders?
As soon as I saw Angelo’s jaw twitch, I knew he had snapped, too. Isabella had spoken of seven men. Now, we had shot one, and there were six at the door. Were these beasts—who had just shot a child—the ones who had violently abused Isabella? Possibly Scarlett, too? Feeling so close to the truth had the immense frustration of the last decade of anticlimaxes racing to the surface, pounding on our self-control. That’s why I internally smiled while double-fisting guns and pointing them toward the newcomers.
With his own gun now drawn, Angelo charged forward and put the barrel in the man’s face. “Have I seen something I don’t like?” Angelo’s other quick hand easily snatched the shotgun from the injured man. “What you should be more concerned about is that I have yet to see something I do like. I have a hungry dick and a million to spend. Show me what I came for or I am fucking leaving.”
Apparently, a million dollars was more than the man’s six friends were willing to watch drive away. One of the men by the door laughed at his shot partner. “Stop fucking around, Ben. He ain’t no cop.” He gestured for Angelo as he headed back into the house. “Follow me if you want to meet our prized possession.”
After Angelo threw the rifle to the ground—far enough away to force the asshole to hobble a bit—we holstered our weapons and followed the man through the door that led us to the kitchen.
The odor hit me first. Second, the sight.
The reasoning behind the doghouses outside was due to having run out of wall space inside the dwelling from Hell. On the timeworn wood-paneled walls, there were ring hooks every few feet. Connected to the hooks were more chains, each with an ill-treated slave attached.
One of the naked slaves nearest us, tied to the rusty gas stove, was a striking young woman with dark hair. At first glance, I thought this was who we had come to see. She definitely was full of the fight we had been told about. Due to her hands being chained, she kicked at a young boy who seemed to be around the age of twelve.
This boy wasn’t restrained. He was free. He was, in fact, taunting the young woman with an old green toy train. It was beyond disturbing how his eyes showed such pleasure, causing her such fear. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to. If there is such a thing as the Devil’s spawn, this kid was it. I was loaded with weapons, a murdering man, yet was apprehensive about this child.
The man Angelo and I were following chuckled at the little soulless being, finding him very entertaining. “You just can’t get enough of her, can ya?” He told Angelo, “You’re in for a treat.” Then he called over his shoulder, “Playtime for Junior, boys!”
Junior? Sweet mother of God. I have now met the Devil reincarnate.
Five men cheered, pushing their way through me and Angelo, all eager for whatever was coming. My stomach tightened as nerves racked me. I was waiting for Angelo’s sign. I needed him to tell me if this girl was Scarlett because I was getting itchy to pull out my gun. I didn’t even know what was going to happen yet, but everything in my gut was telling me it was going to be awful.
Another boy, who appeared to be the same age as ‘Junior’, was across the room, tugging on his restraint. “No! Leave her alone, Goddamnit!”
Relief that this girl had a friend gave me enough will to inhale because I realized I had stopped breathing. The five men started grabbing hold of the female. She screamed while her legs were forced open, exposing her naked core.
“Can’t we just shoot him yet?” asked the man I had forced to limp.
I assumed he was speaking about the demon child who was now evilly smiling. But, no. He was referring to the girl’s friend.
“How do we get a ransom if he’s dead, you idiot?” asked the man we had been following.
The restrained young man was giving quite the attempt to break free, his foot on the wall for leverage as he pulled on the chain. Secretly, I hoped he succeeded. Maybe if he caused enough chaos, I could somehow save the girl. She needed help. The free boy was now panting in an unbelievably cold fashion. Shivers raked my body as he firmly palmed his toy train and stalked forward, his eyes fixated on the girl’s juncture.
Hoping they were too busy to notice, my hand reached for my gun, wanting to be ready if Angelo gave me any indication that it was Scarlett who was about to be tortured—
“This way to Scar,” said the man who we had been following.
My ears began to ring. Not only was some poor girl about to be raped by a train, but I had just heard the nickname of the girl for whom we had given up normal lives to rescue.
She was here.
It was happening.
Found…
I looked back to the girl on the filthy floor, fighting for a freedom that was not coming that day. Her cat-like grey eyes looked at me, pleading, but I couldn’t botch this up. I couldn’t help the poor soul that was begging for someone to end the insanity. With so much regret that it caused me physical pain, I turned my back to her and followed Angelo as he was being led to a door.
If my heart was already pounding so hard it felt like it was lodged in my throat, choking me, what I saw next was sure to cause it to explode.
Hanging on a wall we were passing was an old photo with a large group of men. One of the men, trying to hide in the background, was none other than… Lorenzo Giordano.