Page 51 of Ruthless Vengeance
It’s eerily quiet, which only adds to my anxiety.
I keep my eyes down, not wanting to look inside any of the rooms we pass for fear of what might be inside.
“Say the word, and we leave,” Marco mutters under his breath as we come to a stop outside a heavy, iron door.
“I’m good.” Though, I sound anything but.
Marco steps closer to me as Dom unlocks the door.
I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of what I’m about to see, but I don’t have a choice. If Ben has information that can help Marco, then I’ll do whatever it takes to get him to talk. It’s a small price to pay compared to what Marco might have to do if Cillian decides to call in his favor.
Dom yanks the heavy door open, and Marco leads me inside.
The room is almost cast completely in shadow, except for the light that is shining in from the hallway outside. There’s a lingering smell of blood and urine in the air, which has me fighting the urge to throw up. And that urge only intensifies when I see that the room has been turned into a reinforced cell with thick iron bars dividing the room in two.
And there, slouched against the concrete wall, is Ben.
He glances up as Marco leads me over to the bars, and my breath catches when his green eyes flick to me. “Clara.” His voice is hoarse.
I glance at Marco who nods at me.
I can do this.
I square my shoulders. “You wanted to talk to me. I’m here.”
Ben drags a hand over his heavily stubbled jaw, exhaling as if he’s already exhausted by the weight of what he’s about to say.
At first, his voice is low, almost detached, as if he’s trying to put distance between himself and the horrors he’s about to confess to. But the more he speaks, the more I can hear the disgust and anger in his voice.
Marco and I are silent as he tells us how Cillian doesn’t just deal in drugs and weapons. That’s a fraction of the business that really lines his pockets. His main dealings concern young girls, particularly ones barely into adolescence.
He takes them with the intention of selling them at auctions for men to do with as they please.
Bile rises in my throat as he describes in detail the auctions Cillian hosts, where the rich and powerful bid on these girls likethey’re nothing more than cattle. How they happen in private estates, on luxury yachts, in underground clubs so the police don’t come knocking.
My stomach churns as Ben talks about the way Cillian ensures his girls behave by slipping them drugs before they parade themselves around half naked in front of the buyers. How most of the men that attend these auctions are powerful, well-respected members of society. Judges and politicians, CEOs, and more importantly, husbands and fathers to girls the same age as the ones they’re buying.
By the time he finishes, I’m close to vomiting.
This isn’t just some sick story he’s made up. This is happening, right now, in our own city.
Marco is completely still beside me, his jaw locked and his entire body radiating a lethal kind of fury as Ben’s words sink in.
I shake my head, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. “So what? You just stood there and let it happen?”
Ben’s face darkens. “You think I had a fucking choice? I couldn’t do shit without getting killed, so, yeah, I played along.”
I glare at him, my stomach twisting. “You expect me to believe that?”
Ben’s eyes flick to Marco, then back to me. “Believe what you want, but I swear I didn’t lay a fucking hand on anyone. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t see things that’ll haunt me forever.”
“Then tell me something.” My voice shakes as I try to process the sheer evil of what Cillian is involved in. “If you were never going to hurt me, if I was never part of this plan, then why were youwilling to let TommasokillMarco? Did you think that wouldn’t hurt me?”
Ben bows his head. “I made deals with bad people, Clara. In prison, it was play along or die.Believe me, I didn’t want any of this, but I didn’t have a fucking choice.”
I don’t know if I believe him, or maybe after everything he’s done I justcan’t. After all, Ben has been making the very same excuses since we were kids and at some point, his words lost all meaning.
I glance at Marco, whose eyes are fixed on my brother.
