Page 11 of His Juliet

We headed down the stairs and were confronted with yet another door. A sick feeling took hold of me. Nothing good was waiting for us.

It was locked, and I pointed my gun’s light at the handle so Angelo could pick it. Moments later, it swung open.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was sweat, blood, urine, and desperation. Darkness shrouded the room, making it impossible to see anything, but I already knew this place would haunt my nightmares.

I pointed my mounted flashlight into the space and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Six girls were chained to the back wall. They were dirty and emaciated, dressed in only their underwear and sitting on the hard concrete floor. Their wide, terrified eyes met mine. I expected them to scream or beg for mercy or ask for help, but they were silent. Bile rose in my throat at the realization of what they must have gone through to keep them this quiet.

“We’re here to help you,” I said softly. I didn’t know if they understood English, but hopefully, they understood my tone. “We’ll take you somewhere safe, I promise.”

I got closer and the girls finally reacted, flinching away from me. It didn’t help that I was pointing a gun at them so I could see their chains better.

I turned to Angelo, who had hung back. “We either need the keys for the handcuffs or a bolt cutter. And some fucking flashlights.”

I could barely make out his features in the dark, but what I saw in his gaze matched the white-hot fury in mine. He nodded and left the room.

I backed away from the girls so I wasn’t looming over them. “Do any of you speak English?”

Silence.

I tried Italian, but no response.

The other girls we had found who were trafficked by the Albanians were Ukrainian. I’d lost a bet with Sofiya, so she’d taught me to say, “I am a loser,” and forced me to announce it at a poker game after she beat me.

“Ya nevdakha,” I said in what I was sure was a clumsy accent.

This got the slightest reaction, which seemed promising. Although now they were probably even more confused why an armed man was calling himself a loser.

“Matteo,” I said into my earpiece. “We found six girls, but they’re not responding to me in English. Can you have Sofiya call me so she can try Ukrainian or Russian?”

There was a long beat of silence. “I don’t want to stress her.”

I scrubbed my hand down my face. Matteo’s protectiveness of his wife had skyrocketed with her pregnancy. I didn’t blame him, but we needed Sofiya’s help, and I knew she’d want to give it. “I need them to know we’re going to take them to the safe house and that I won’t hurt them.”

There was a long pause.

“Fine. I’ll ask her.”

Angelo returned. “Found the key and one flashlight.” He pointed it at the girls. They were handcuffed to chains attached to the walls.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I answered.

“Hey, I’m here,” Sofiya said. “The overprotective overlord finally gave me the phone. Am I on speaker?”

“Putting you on speaker now.”

I hit the button and moved closer to the girls, crouching down to make myself less intimidating. Sofiya said something, and the girls looked at each other. Sofiya kept talking, and eventually, one woman responded. She looked like she was the oldest—two of the younger girls clung to her arms.

The woman spoke to Sofiya, exchanging a few sentences.

“I told them they could trust you and you were going to take them somewhere safe, but who knows if they believe me,” Sofiya said in English. “But Romeo, she said there’s another girl in the room. Locked in a closet or something?”

My heart stuttered.Shit shit shit. The woman met my gaze and pointed into the back corner. Angelo scanned the room with the flashlight, landing on a metal door that blended into the dark wall. My heart pounded as he went over to it and tried the handle.

This one opened right away.

Angelo’s body blocked my view but his loud swears told me everything I needed to know.

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