Page 35 of Viripotent

Before Inessa created Steorra we had to try to find them homes ourselves and I don’t trust predators not to infiltrate them. I might not feel anything for Inessa, and her mouth is annoying, but she has a code, and her vetting is strict to ensure none of the children in her care are harmed. She’s a do-gooder and gets them therapy, anything they need, while battling everyone she needs to ensure their safety.

FIFTEEN

Inessa

There are no visible marks on my neck as Misha follows me to my office in Steorra. It’s later than I usually arrive with moving into Vlad’s and spending extra time covering his father’s brutish hand. Verelli’s guard stands on the door speaking to a courier and he abruptly turns, leaving his normal post. Rushing ahead of us, he takes the stairs with urgency as Misha becomes alert looking for whatever flames of hell are on his heels.

We built this to be a sanctuary for the children, but it’s become mine in the process and I watch the new area filling up with parents and their young ones. It’s only just gone 10am, and the class has started for the mothers to get what they need. The glass elevator keeps it all in view as we start our ascent.

Stale tobacco fills my nose once we’re closed in, and I don’t move as I get Misha’s attention.

“Stop smoking, it’s going to kill you.”

He’s the closest thing I have to a cousin with being Dariya’s son and he shoots me a dopey smile showing he’s going to be an asshole. His playful voice comes out, “Stop worrying, it’s going to thaw your cold dead heart.”

He steps back as we continue up the last two floors, ready to leave and stand guard out of sight from the other organization’s guards.

The elevator pings as we come to a stop and Gio has beat us taking the stairs. He’s halfway in Mara’s office, handing her a package, as I go into my own. I don’t even have time to close the door as she follows me in with anger and sadness written all over her face.I know what she’s going to say. I round my desk as I attempt to formulate an argument that will appease her and stop any harm coming to Vlad. I don’t know why that’s my first thought — him not being hurt. But I can’t stop it.

She closes my door and begins pacing in front of my desk as I wait for whichever prick has decided to threaten us today. The pacing can’t be because of the ongoing feud with Vlad and the Enterprise. It’s always the same bullshit that she needs to vent, weak fuckers who have beat their children and partners wanting to know where they are. Even if they manage to find out, they’ll never get close enough to do harm again with both the Bratva and ‘Ndrangheta guarding each safe house.

The pacing stops and she takes large steps to the front of my desk to empty the contents of the package in her hands. There’s a manila folder and a flash drive with my name on each of them. Taking the folder first, lead drops in my stomach at her low explanation.

“Trinity called. Another group of kids turned up.”

Ever since we opened Steorra, children will turn up in the middle of the night at the group home. At first it was a beautiful coincidence getting the kids who had clearly been trafficked away from the fuckers who hurt them, but it’s coordinated and more of my soul dies with each pair of blank eyes showing the cruelty of the world.

I go through the folder numbly. Whoever the vigilante is has provided as much information as they can about each child.There are details on their health, the condition they were found in, and their originating country. None of that is important or gets my attention when I see their ages. Five children, babies really, from 8 to 3. How the fuck can you hurt a child, an innocent baby who can barely talk, and take them from everything they know, only to drop them into the worst hell that even the devil would throw up at.

I don’t have the stomach to check the flash drive, there’s never been anything explicit. It’s usually a pre-recorded message that we can’t trace and each of the children speaking in hopes we can locate a translator for them. But I can’t force my hand to move. Every instance kills the ignorant hope inside of me and I’m selfish, not wanting to see the blankness. That’s the thing that kills me more than anything else, that blank stare as they sit, afraid to blink in case another monster unveils themselves and takes more of their innocence.

The first package that was delivered had explicit instructions; it gave more information on howIcan process the information. Now, they’re just the bare minimum as though they’ve successfully trained me in their justice, and I don’t need it anymore. It always had the same sign off at the end of the clips too — breathe. Because they knew I needed the reminder.

The door opens, giving me an excuse not to watch anything, and Amber walks in. She’s our numbers person, and she’s amazing at what she does, but no one is built for this sick and twisted shit. The worry on her face makes me hope for a rare fuck up, so I can put off facing the depravity in front of me. It’s a privileged position to take, knowing those innocent children don’t have that luxury, but I’d rather break alone than with an audience. Closing the door behind her, she takes hesitant steps and comes to Mara’s side with a small voice, “Is everything ok?”

No, we live in a world with sick fucking bastards and the only fucking silver lining is knowing we can take the law into our own hands.

“We have another envelope, five kids this time,” Mara whispers.

The groups have always been small. This is the biggest and I fucking hate knowing these are the lucky ones. They’re lucky because they got out and can heal whatever has happened so far and while I make sure it never happens again.

Plugging in the flash drive, now I don’t have an excuse, the distorted voice is too loud in the tense room.

‘You have been entrusted with five lives, don’t break that trust. Should you require anything further, there is a burner with a pre-programmed number.’

It cuts off as small voices take over, giving their names, full of fear. Even without any video evidence I know they’re going in age order as they get smaller and smaller. The last one is barely a squeak and I push back, getting ready to leave.

Staying on my heels, Amber follows me, not caring about a coat, and Mara stays back in case anything further comes through. Telling Misha where we need to go, he nods once and stays in step, not wanting to delay us and we move in silence.

Mr. Roberts meetsus at the door of the group home as we pull up outside. He doesn’t go through any more details, and I maintain a blank mask as we follow him into the private room at the front of the building. It’s warm and friendly, exactly how it should be to mimic a family home rather than a place children leave with their belongings in plastic bags. I focus on the surroundings, the inviting walls covered in layers of artwork thathave been produced until I’m forced not to as we’re lead into a private room beside the intake office.

The children are all huddled together, breaking my heart while I remain unfeeling on the outside. Amber can’t do that, and she smiles softly at them. She refused to stay at Steorra, and she thought she recognized one of the kid’s dialects when they were giving their name, so at least she can be useful. She also has a calming presence, and she’s not intimidating as she slowly walks towards them. They shuffle closer together when she crouches in front of them and softly introduces herself to gauge their understanding.

“Hi, I’m Amber. Can you tell me your names?”

The oldest boy out of the group is fixed on me with his brows drawn together, not my face but my hair.

Taking a chair, I soundlessly pull it closer, learning from the first time when the furniture scraping was met with pained screams. He looks away as I sit in front of them, and a little girl pops her head out of the huddle. She’s small, the youngest, but there’s hope in her huge green eyes.They’re not dull and lifeless, showing that she hasn’t been forced to be trapped in her mind or she’s too young to understand what they did.

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