Page 116 of Savage Little Queen

“How many levelsto this hell are there?” I asked as we walked through wide, dark hallways lined with cells. Bars were the doors, and the deeper we went, the more disgusted I became. We’d just left a level filled with children, and while I wasn’t a kid person, all I wanted to do was tear the fucking doors off the cells and set them free.

“Last level, I think,” Drake murmured, opening a door that led down another flight of stairs.

Six levels.

Six fucking levels of hell.

Every cell filled with people. My guts twisted as the soft sobs from one floor left us, only to be greeted by the ugly groans and cries of more. Drake had been taking photos on his phone of the people in the cells. Maybe he planned on showing Matteo or Anson. I had no fucking clue why he’d want the memories on him, but he did it anyway.

Every level had so many halls. Different rooms for different things. Kitchens even. I didn’t even want to know what the fuckgot cooked in them because it sure as hell wasn’t regular food. The first level even boasted a club, which was empty since it was probably too early in the day for it, and these sick fucks only came out at night, it would seem. There was even what appeared to be a massive ballroom and a dining room.

The fact that these twisted sickos had the balls to have dinner down here while people were suffering sickened me. I hoped that when we got back upstairs Anson had put a bullet inside Everett’s skull.

“I don’t even understand why we’re doing this,” I said as we walked the long hallway. Hands came out to reach for us. Cut. Scared. Old, dried blood on them. Broken nails. Shrieks and sobs. I was going fucking crazy just being down there. I wanted out. Now.

Drake stopped and looked inside one of the cells.

“Don’t stay too long, little boy. They like to eat tender bits like you,” a man rasped in the darkness.

“What are you here for?” Drake asked.

“What are you being tested for?” the man countered.

I sighed. We could leave right then, and I’d have no qualms about it.

“We could set them free,” Drake said, looking to me.

“We were told to just look. Not touch, and quite frankly, I’m ready to go,” I muttered.

“Scaredy cat,” the man cackled. “Little pussy, pussy, pussy cat.”

It was Drake’s turn to sigh. He walked again. He stopped at a few more cells and tried to speak to people but wasn’t able to. At the last one, he frowned. It was a larger cell with a door, not bars.

“What do you think is behind the door?” Drake asked.

“Probably nothing we want to see.”

Drake looked at the key in his hand and stepped forward. Of course, he was going to open the damn door.

He had the key inserted in moments, the door swinging open. With his phone light on, he stepped inside. I peeked my head around and saw a small woman in tattered rags huddled in a corner.

Drake walked slowly toward her.

“P-please. N-no more,” she whimpered, holding her hand out to shield herself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Drake said gently, kneeling next to her. “What’s your name?”

She cried softly. “Please. Please. My children.”

“Are they here?” Drake asked.

Her small body shook. Fuck, the poor thing was just skin and bones.

When she didn’t answer, Drake reached out and pushed her dark, matted hair over her shoulder.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

I swallowed, not even fucking sure I wanted to see her face.

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