“I thought your father was a piece of work, but you…” He shakes his head before his shoulders drop. “What do you want?”
“Put out every contact you both have to find her, everything.” That was the single reason Denzel was breathing. I knew the contacts he had; how deep he was buried.
They both nod, and we all stand. I go to leave before turning back to look at them.
“Betray me, and you will regret it. You’re right, I am not my father. I am so much worse. Your own shadow will be scared. The paranoia will grow day by day, it will fester, eat at you from the inside, wondering where I am, is today the day I come. Because make no mistake, I will come.”
29
Lilliana
Something is happening today. I can feel it in the air. The women are more restless, like a pack of animals that know they are being stalked. They all huddle together, eyes racing around the place. The mood is tense.
Tara comes over to me. I notice she’s dressed in cleaner clothes, her hair is brushed, and even though she looks underweight, I can tell how beautiful she is. Not a striking beauty but an understated and timeless sort of beauty. Her blonde hair falls long down her back, with lighter streaks that the dirt hid before. Her skin, now clean, shows the paleness, makes the sprinkle of freckles across her nose stand out, and makes her green eyes pop.
“Did you get to shower?” I am jealous. I think I’ve been here around sixteen days, but it's hard to tell with the limited light. If Tara is right, I had been here five days before waking up fully, and I’ve counted eleven. In that time, I haven’t been given a shower. I stink of blood, sweat and desperation.
I’ve seen some sort of pattern: the guards come in and take some girls every four days, some return, others don’t. Every two days they pick girls and force drugs wrapped in plastic they call bullets down their throats while holding a gun to their heads. Each time, Tara holds my wrist as if scared I’ll jump up.
“How are you feeling about—” I cut her off, knowing she is going to ask the same questions she asks every day.
“Don’t, please. If I am going to survive this place, I can’t—” I bite out, feeling guilty. I look away as my throat burns at the memory of what they took from me. It’s something I’ve pushed down, locked away like my own Pandora box.
“Line up,” an ear-splitting voice echoes around the room. The whole place fills with hushed murmurs, before falling silent.
Tara gets up with a few other girls, joining a line of around ten. One guard looks them over, nodding before passing them to another.
I get up right away, ignoring the dizziness that washes over me from the lack of food and water we’re given, as if their plan is to keep us weak, vulnerable.
“Tara?” She shakes her head, keeping her eyes on the floor.
As a guard walks up to us, pushing me to side, I fall hard on my arse, but he just starts pushing Tara forward.
“Stop! Where are you taking her?”
I hear a mumble go around the room, ignoring it all, knowing deep in my stomach that something bad is about to happen. I scramble up, racing toward her again. The guard stops me, his eyes hard as he grips my hair, smacking me across the face. I hit the ground hard again, before two other guards come, picking me up, holding my arms to keep my body up as the guard in front throws a punch to my jaw. The next one lands in my stomach, taking the air out of my body. I gasp for air as my lungs burn for oxygen they desperately need. His punches continue to rain down on me, and white pain ripples through me at every strike. A moan leaves my lips. I’m sure he’s going to break me in half, snap every bone I have. I have felt the backhand of a man before, and worse, but this time it’s different. He’s not going to stop.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tara being led up the stairs, each girl going to a different room. The main door opens, and men walk in, all dressed in suits, men that are clean shaven, well groomed, looking like they have jobs at the bank, play with their children on weekends. My eyes stayed fixed on them as they walk up the stairs, all entering the rooms the girls have just gone into.
“No,” I slur, knowing what's going to happen to the girls, to Tara.
They drag me, my tiptoes just about touching the ground, walking in the same direction. Unable to hold up my own weight, each step knocks against my already bruised body. I struggle once I realise where we are going. They fling open a door to reveal a middle-aged man with so much hair covering his body, there’s almost no skin showing. Deep lines cover his face, and his hair is thin on top, which he brushes over to the side. His small, beady eyes widen when he sees us, looking over my battered body. Something changes in him, a new hunger appearing.
“Two for one?” He grins, walking toward me, his dick hanging between his legs. His acidic breath makes me heave as he steps closer to run a hand across my cheek, pushing my hair out of my face to give him a better look. My whole-body trembles, trying to recoil from his touch.
“No, this one’s going to watch.” The guard smirks down at me.
A whimper makes my head turn to see Tara on the bed, her eyes wide, the white nightdress removed, showing how small she is.
“Tara,” I gasp, trying to pull my arms free as the man crawls on the bed on all fours. He grabs her blonde hair, making her wince in pain as he pulls her forward. “Suck it, bitch, get it hard so I can fuck you good. I want to hear you scream.”
I turn my head as noises fill the room, then a sharp gasp.
“No, you don’t get to look away.” The guard turns my head just in time for me to see him taking her brutally. Hot tears run down my face as grunts fill the room. As he makes her scream.
I take in every one of the man’s features, go through each of the guard’s faces, committing them all to memory.
They will pay.
I feel something in me alter, harden, as the last of my innocence dies in this room and something stronger comes forward. I will survive, and then I will hunt them down, make them the prey, until I have them begging at my feet.
30
Prince
“Prince!” I don’t stop at Marcus’ voice. I hold my gun up, racing across the garden. Stopping at the door, I hear Marcus’ heavy breathing behind me as I kick it open, and he curses behind me. Entering the hall, I turn right, into the first room. The smell of weed hangs heavy in the air as two men jump up from a tattered brown sofa, eyes wide and bloodshot, pulling their pieces. Before they even have them raised, I put a bullet in both. The sound of an angry bee whizzes past me, and red-hot pain shoots up my arm as I turn, seeing a man standing in the doorway of another room. Before I can pull the trigger, he falls to the ground with a bullet between his eyes.
“Couldn’t let you have all the fun.” Marcus’ voice comes closer. “You’re bleeding like a pig.” I look down, seeing the bullet wound.
“Later,” is all I say as I take the stairs two at a time. Toby had given me a lead about a gang in north-east London that has a prostitution ring. A girl fitting Lilliana’s description was seen by one of his guys. He couldn’t confirm if it was her, but it was the only damn thing we had to go on.