Page 85 of Cinder
Beast’s face is grim. “You need to take a look.”
My guts churn, knowing I’m not going to like what I’m about to see.
I follow Beast around to the back of the truck. The door is open, and inside, peering out from the darkness are a group of barely dressed, frightened young women.
“Sheriff has organized a couple of EMTs. They’re enroute but still twenty minutes away.”
“Who fucking did this?” I ask.
“They’re not talking, they’re too afraid,” Beast says.
I climb onto the back of the truck and walk over to one of the girls. She shrinks away from me with a whimper.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help.”
“We think Viktor brought them in via a port he’s got covered by corrupt ATF agents,” Beast says behind me.
Hearing Viktor’s name, the girl whimpers again and steps further away from me.
“Did Viktor Olicheckoff do this to you?” I ask her gently.
Frightened, she nods. “Viktor.”
White hot rage washes over me.
The bruising on her face tells me about the violence she’s endured.
“He did that to your face?” I ask.
She hesitates. But then says, “The men outside. They hurt us.”
“Elina, don’t say a word,” another girl begs in a hushed voice.
But Elina ignores her. “They like to punch. Like to take what is not theirs to take.”
I grind my teeth. Curl my hands into fists. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Especially the one with the beard. He likes to inflict pain when he’s taking.”
“Not anymore. They won’t touch you again. You have my word.” I take her hand. No sudden movement. Just a gentle reassurance. “You are safe now.”
I know my words do little to help.
But right now, they’re all I have.
A promise that it’s over.
I jump off the truck and pull my gun from the back of my jeans.
Arm outstretched, I walk past the sheriff and over to where the three men are on their knees, and I shoot the first one in the face.
The one with the beard who likes to inflict pain.
"Jesus, Lars. You remember I’m a cop, right?” the sheriff complains. “Couldn’t you have at least warned me to turn around before you made me a witness to murder?"
“Look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t deserve it.”
"That might be so. But there’s a process. It’s not a great one, but it’s still a process."
