Page 50 of A Fine Line

The wait to get to the club is excruciating. I manage to have an enjoyable supper with Flora, which meant she spent most of her time sitting on my lap and stealing my food. Nettie made jokes about what a nice change it was to be rescuing someone other than Darius from danger, earning her a dirty look from him, who then told her she’d pay for that later.

Of course, she just laughed.

By the time we make it to the club, I’m a mess. I don’t think I’m appearing so on the outside, but on the inside, I’m one big ball of fucking nerves. Luckily, we make it inside without incident, and it doesn’t take too much maneuvering until Aggie has someone leading us down into the dungeon.

And when I say dungeon, I’m using that word in a serious manner because this place is horrible. This place makes the dankest warehouse look like the Four Seasons.

The viewing room they bring us to is moderately fancier. It’s clean, at least, though very dim, except for a spotlight on the stage. Aggie had to tell them we had very particular tastes in order to get them to bring us down here. Knowing what’s coming next turns my stomach, and the fact that I have to stand down until the end has my blood pressure boiling.

Dare and I agree that regardless of whether or not Carolina is here, this place will not be standing by morning. It’s disgusting enough that people choose to deal in human trafficking of adults, but those who choose to deal in innocents are beyond reprehensible. Having to sit here and stomach the constant procession of innocent lives has me daydreaming about ripping out spines. Aggie and Nettie take turns giving me a pinch every time they catch me grinding my teeth.

There’s an extended pause, and I figure Carolina will be out next for the grand finale, but then the spotlight dims, and people start scrambling in and out of the room.

I watch the group of men gathered by the staging area as another man runs in and seems to deliver a message. The man who’s been running the auction spits words at the newcomer, who then runs out of the room, and a bunch of people run by the closing door. I grind my teeth, itching to get up and do something.

Nettie leans closer to me and asks, “What is it?”

“Something’s fucking wrong,” I reply quietly. “They should’ve brought her out already.”

Nettie and Aggie look at each other, and then Nettie turns back to me and says, “What do you want to do?”

“I gotta go find her. I can’t just fucking sit here.”

“Then go,” Aggie replies, nodding toward the door. “We’ll stay here. Act like you’re going to the restroom or whatever.”

“I can’t leave you guys here.”

Nettie and Aggie both laugh, and then Aggie says, “Are you worried about the murder twins, Tony?”

She has a point. I give her a nod, rise from my chair, and move swiftly toward the door, exiting the room and taking a left toward where I saw the people running earlier.

There’s a commotion up ahead, and then a man runs up to me, pointing in the direction I came from, yelling, “You can’t be back here. Get the fuck back where you were.”

I don’t pause my forward momentum. I run right up to him and yank his gun from the holster, shooting him in the face as I keep moving.

I stop at the end of the corridor, peeking around the corner to get a glimpse of what’s in the next room. It looks like rows of cells where they must hold people. There are three men standing in the middle of the room, two of them being berated by a bulkier guy. When I hear the big guy ask them where she went, I don’t dick around waiting for answers.

I take him out before I enter the room fully. The two other men stand there gaping at the man on the floor, and by the time they look up, I’m already directly in front of them. I grab one by the shoulder, digging my fingers into his pressure point until he drops to his knees, my other hand pointing my gun at his friend’s head.

“Where the fuck is she?”

The guy’s eyes widen, and he stutters, “H-he took her.”

“Who fucking took her?”

The guy lifts his shoulders, the expression on his face pained as he replies, “The Beast. The Beast fucking took her.”

“That’s impossible.”

The guy kneeling on the floor recovers enough to respond, “That’s what I saw, too. And when the Beast shows up, you give him what he wants, or you’re dead.”

“How long ago?”

“A few minutes, maybe,” he replies. “Ran out the back.”

I take off in the direction he indicated, not even taking the time to shoot them. I run blindly, recklessly, focusing on finding her before she’s in the wind again but fearing I’m already too late. So, I shout, “Carolina!”

I’m making a complete fucking spectacle of myself, and even knowing this, I can’t make myself stop. I give up all semblance of the character I’m supposed to be playing and continue to yell, “Carolina! Carolina!”

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