Page 81 of The Devil's Den

“H-he sold her. I—I don’t know to who.”

“And Robby?”

“Don’t…” His breathing grows tattered. “Don’t know who took the boy,” he grits. “He only tells us what we need to know. The Bianchis are careful.”

Lifting my gun, I stare hard into the man who treated me like shit. “I hope you have no kids. Be a shame to think you’re raising any.”

“No! Please!”

Pop.

A bullet enters his chest, another landing in his forehead.

I remember everything he’s done, the way he spoke to me. I was just a boy, with no one to help me.

Now, he won’t do that to anyone else.

* * *

AIDA

The gravel beneath my feet has been replaced with a cold steel floor. My loud breaths tighten around in the small space of the cage I share with another woman.

Her long raven-black hair is caked to her face, the ends matted, her dark denim jeans stained with brown at her knees. She hasn’t spoken a word since I was thrown beside her, maybe an hour ago or longer.

When did she arrive here? What will they do to us?

My heart pounds and fear creeps up my throat until panic sets in with a heavy fist. I’m alive. For now.

My arms circle my knees and all I see is Matteo. His body falling as I shot him.

I killed him!

Agnelo forced me to kill the man I love. I’ll never get over it. I’ll never move on. He’ll be with me for as long as I’m alive. The tormenting loss, it feasts on my soul until it’s all I can feel. I can’t think about him without dying inside.

The stinging within my eyes builds until the tears swarm, drifting down my cheeks. And Robby? My sweet Robby! I tuck my head against my knees and quietly sob, hoping those bastards don’t hear us.

There are two of them—tall, huge, standing yards in front, rifles slung over their backs. We don’t stand a chance against them.

The place is filled with piles of wood. It seems like some kind of factory or something. The woman glances quickly at me before zipping her eyes away to the men, dried black mascara running down from her bottom lashes.

How could people hurt one another this way? We’re worse than animals, aren’t we? We don’t do things for mere survival, we do them to hurt each other, and we don’t even bat an eye.

“What you lookin’ at, bitch?” the long-bearded man yells at her. She instantly stiffens, hiding her face in her lap, her heavy breathing causing her shoulders to tremble.

I instantly feel sorry for her, my own pain shelved to the side. “Hey,” I whisper, scooting closer. “I’m Aida. What’s your name?” But instead of answering, she continues to hide.

“I know you’re scared.” I gently place my hand on top of hers and she flinches. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” I edge my palm away. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk, but I figured we can maybe keep each other sane here, you know?”

She’s not much older than me, maybe even younger. Whenever I remember the club, all those faces there, the kids, the young women? I instantly feel ill.

With a sigh, I move back to my corner. I can’t force her to speak to me nor do I blame her for not wanting to.

A few minutes pass, and when I close my eyes, my head slanting back gently against the cage, she speaks.

“A-Ava.” The word falls in a hush of silence. “I’m Ava.”

“Ava. It’s nice to meet you, though I wish it were somewhere better.” I give her a sad smile. “Have you been here long?”

---