“Will you look, see if she’s there?”
Emily, or Emmie as he called her, was Marcus' best friend. She was—is the same age as Lilliana. They even went to the same school. Marcus had grown up on the Ark Hill estate, and Emmie was his next-door neighbour. He felt protective of the little blonde girl next door, and as they got older, they got closer, and a friendship was formed. Then something happened, and the sweet girl changed. She didn’t care about school, skipping most of the time, spending most of her time drinking and hanging around with the wrong crowd. Marcus was in Riley’s gang at the time, a low crime gang that ran the estate. He warned everyone to stay away from Emmie, cut her off. No one was to give her anything, invite her to parties she was too young to attend.
Then she disappeared, no trace. He searched high and low, ripped the estate apart looking for her. No one knew anything. Then there was a raid that sent the whole gang down. When he came out after two years, he didn’t quit looking. He turned up on my doorstep, soaking wet, the thunder lighting up his features. He had heard whispers that she started to hang around the compound. Holding up a photo, he begged me to tell him, just answer if I had seen her. One look at the photo and I knew I had. She’d been around a few times.
That night, we made a deal, and he came to work for me. I told him the truth, everything. We swore that night to bring them all down and find the answers we were both looking for.
I click through the first file, over a hundred images. Some faces I’d seen about the compound, others I had never seen before. They ranged from just about legal to mid-twenties. I look up at Marcus, shaking my head, letting him know I hadn’t seen her yet. Bile raises in my throat at each picture, the terror in their eyes. This was the part of my father's business I refused to be a part of. I knew he had whore houses, but this was more, something darker.
Clicking on the next folder, these all seem to be one girl, her breasts, thighs, and nipples. None reveal her face, just a slice of brunette hair. I would say he loves her. There are over 200 photos, all of her in different positions, but there’s something different about them. They’re not against a wall or concrete floor, but a bed with blood-red sheets. I know I’m missing something, and this woman is the link. I take my time, studying each photo for any clue.
An alert comes on the screen. “Marcus?”
He’s next to me within a few short steps, frowning when he sees the alert. He clicks on the link, bringing us to a different tab, showing we need a password. Marcus moves the laptop closer to him, clicking over buttons. Each time, a laughing face appears.
Leaving Marcus to it, I go to kitchen, grabbing the whiskey out of the cupboard, and two glasses, before filling them. I put one down in front of him, before turning to walk to the window. It's nowhere near as big as mine but still holds the same view across London.
“Where are you, beauty?” I know she is still in London. Everything in me tells me she is closer than I thought. Am I staring at the building she’s being held in?
“You need to get over here, now!” I race over to the table, looking over the screen, seeing nothing but a chat and a load of numbers. “What is it?”
Marcus points at the screen. “These are people’s chat names.” He points to one called, ‘Purple-headed Warrior’.
“Is that what I think it is?” Marcus’ lips curl in disgust as he points to the next line. “This is money.” I whistle low at the price, over two million and climbing.
“So, this is a bidding site?” Declan never seemed the betting type. He likes his money too much. Plus, the amount we paid was enough to last him a lifetime.
Marcus continues to study the screen, when his breath catches, as he flicks between two tabs.
“You need to keep it cool,” Marcus says. I frown, watching him as he looks me in the eyes. He closes them for a split second before opening them. I see emotion swirling in them, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I am sorry.”
Sorry? My brows pull tight. “What are you talking about?” A feeling grows through me, its claws digging into me, and my whole body tightens, causing every muscle to bunch.
Acting fast, I grab him by his throat, sending him across the room with a thud. I cross to him, picking him up again, slamming his body against the wall with enough force the whole room shakes. “Tell me.” My voice is strange to even my own ears.
“It's a bidding site, just not on the cards.” He stares me straight in the eyes, and I no longer know who is supporting who.
“I am pretty sure. I am positive they are bidding on Lilliana. The girl is twenty-two, raven hair, grey eyes, five-foot-six.”
The air whooshes around me, the room tilting as I race for the toilet and empty my stomach. I see all kinds of fucked up stuff, most that would haunt a man for life, and never have I lost control, but the thought of all those men bidding on my girl makes me sick. There are so many of them.
I stand, flushing the toilet. Turning the tap on, I wash my hands before cupping them and chucking water on my face, ignoring the sting against my raw skin.
Marcus is still sitting behind the laptop when I walk back in the room, his fingers racing over the keyboard as he curses.
“What do we know?” My voice is scratchy and raw.
His eyes flick to mine. “The bidding started two days ago, and it finishes on Friday.”
That’s three days away.
“It could take days if not weeks to trace where the website is coming from, and even then, it doesn’t mean that’s where she is.” I run my fingers through my hair. Three days… it leaves us no time at all. It has already been two weeks and we have nothing, no leads apart from that footage. All I can see is the girls’ photos, their fear, knowing the place the photos were taken is where Lilliana is being held.
I grit my teeth. “That doc better have him ready to talk.”
We race to the compound, hitting the steps to the room Declan is in when we get inside, and the metallic smell surrounds me straight away. I stop, cursing, and Marcus walks into me. I turn, lifting my finger to my lips, signalling him to be quiet. It’s too still, no movement. I walk lightly down the steps, grabbing my piece, holding it up. Finally, the doc comes into sight, laying on the floor, a screwdriver sticking out of his neck, blood leaking around him.
“He’s gone?” Marcus growls, causing my head to whip to the side to see the place we were holding Declan, empty.
A wheeze catches my attention. I walk over to Doc, bending down, his breath a slow rasp as his body jerks. Bloodstained lips move, and I lean in.
“What?”
He whispers a name, using his last strained breath.
33
Lilliana
I wake to warm water being poured over me, fluttering my eyes, realising I am no longer in the boiler room, to see Tara washing my wrists with a flannel. She squeezes out the pink water before placing it into a different bowl filled with clean water. Gliding it back over my wrist, I can’t hold in the noise that escapes me, somewhere between pain and pleasure. Her eyes flick to mine, relief filling them for a brief second, before she watches over my shoulder.
“Stand. You’ve got to shower.” Her voice is soft, pain covering each word as she helps me stand, my legs weak and unsteady like a new-born calf. Tara’s slight frame holds me as we cross the room to the shower area. Steadying me until I can stand on my own, she takes the blood-coated, dirty nightie off me. Holding me under the spray, I groan at the pressure against my skin. Every muscle aches, and the spray feels like pin pricks against my sensitive skin.