Page 6 of Unhinged

“How did it go, Carlos?” I ask one of her generals.

His jaw clenches as he meets my gaze. “It’s done. Juan has taken four Americans to the basement.”

I freeze. “Ileana said no survivors.”

“They had nothing to do with the Guerra gang but were staying at their resort. Ileana mentioned she didn’t want any tourists involved.”

“Why did you kidnap them, then?” I clench my fists by my sides.

“Jorge’s orders. He believes they’ll fetch us a good price.”

Jorge is one of the few men who follows Ileana by choice. He’s as cold and calculated as she is, so he heads her army.

“Very well. I’ll go and visit them.”

Carlos nods as I turn and head toward the basement, unease settling in the pit of my stomach. Jorge would only spare these women if they were beautiful enough to be put up for auction.

I glare at the door to the basement, wishing I could burn this place to the ground.

Give it time.

How long? How long must I endure this bullshit?

The voice in my head doesn’t respond.

As I open the door and descend into the darkness, spiders crawl across my skin as the walls close in on me. Darkness swells within me as I descend the steps into the torture chambers of Ileana Navarro. It’s a living, breathing entity that wants to bathe in the blood of our prisoners. The men should have fucking killed the tourists, no matter how much they might fetch.

They’ll be all over the news once they’re reported missing by their families.

I move around the corner and into the first chamber, where two girls are being held. One with golden curls and green eyes, and the other has olive skin and dark brown eyes. They’re both beautiful in their own right. They look at me and cower, their eyes wide with fear, clutching onto each other.

And instantly, I understand why the mendidn’tkill them. They’ll fetch a handsome price on the open market, but no doubt they wouldn’t mind having them beforehand in their beds. I move to the next chamber, and my steps falter.

The room is dim, the single bulb hanging from the ceiling barely effective, but there she is. Shackled and bound but radiant as a blossom in the moonlight. Her terrified eyes, the color of the clearest skies, meet mine, striking me like a lightning bolt.

I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a precipice, staring into the unknown. The girl’s beauty is a paradox, a hideous delight. It cuts through the stench of fear and blood, insinuating itself into the marrow of my madness. I can’t help but stand there, entranced, watching her tremble.

I take a step, then another, each footfall echoing ominously. The chains around my little bird’s wrists rattle as she instinctively recoils. Her sky-blue eyes grow impossibly wide. Leaning toward her, a smile plays on my lips, and my voice echoes in the corridor as I speak, “What’s seen in the middle of March and April that can’t be seen at the beginning or end of either?” Confusion flashes in her eyes, her brows furrowing as she tries to interpret the riddle.

“W-What?”

The sound of her fragile voice is a beautiful melody amid chaos. I ignore her confusion, the question hanging in the air between us. My voice barely more than a whisper, “And who might you be little bird?” I lean closer, the cold steel of the bars pressing against my face.

Her lip trembles as she tightens her grasp on her friend. “Alice,” she whispers.

Alice.

I don’t ask for her friend’s name. She doesn’t interest me in the slightest.

A dangerous spark ignites in my heart at the thought of having her to myself, even though I know Ileana wouldn’t allow it.

I watch her shrink into the shadows. “Here’s another riddle for you, Alice,” I purr. “What dances without legs, whispers without voice, bites without teeth, and dies without life?”

She shakes her head. “I-I don’t know.”

My eyes narrow as I lean in closer, my face inches away from hers, and if it weren’t for the bars, I’d have her in my hands. “Think, little bird.”

She closes her eyes, breathing in short gasps as she tries to solve my riddle. But I know she won’t be able to, not in her state of terror. I lean back, watching her struggle.

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