Page 46 of Damaged & Deadly

When Luc stumbles and falls against the wall, Jon and Tank move to his side, again working to support him as he directs us to a seemingly mundane stretch of the wall on the other side of Santos’ apartment. However, I’m coming to realize this building houses a Labyrinth of passageways and tunnels. Worry niggles at my insides, wondering why Dante or Enzo didn’t warn us, except I push that concern aside for now, not wanting to face the possibility of those answers. Instead, I gently nudge Luc to the side and press down on the part of the wall he is standing in front of. With a click, the door separates, and I pull it open.

My heart is in my mouth, my fingers clenching around the blade in my hand as I peer inside. Before I can step into the dim inner hallway, Marcus moves in front of me, giving me a look that distinctly states he should be stepping first into unknown dangerous situations. I roll my eyes as I follow after him. The fluorescent lights above us flicker ominously and a chill rolls down my spine as we reach the end of the short hallway.

Marcus casts a quick glance over his shoulder before reaffirming his grip on his firearm and pushing open the door, and we step into what appears to be a dimly lit room with soft-colored wall lamps providing a low but warm glow. LED lights mark the outline of a small stage, and I have to squint through the semi-darkness to make out the array of tables and chairs. Tingles prickle along my skin. I’ve spent more than enough time in strip clubs to know exactly what this room is for, but why is it hidden in the middle of the building? And given its small size, it’s only meant to cater to a small handful of men—five or six at most.

Barely sparing the room a glance, Luc jerks his head toward the far side and starts hobbling in that direction as we all follow. I catch the others sharing uneasy looks, none of us liking the appearance of whatever is happening here. Behind yet another hidden door, we find a sparsely furnished, self-contained apartment, which only raises more questions.

“What the hell is this place?” Marcus queries in a gruff voice.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one whose spidey sense is tingling?” Jon's attempt at a lame joke falls short, all of us sensing the same thing he is. It’s like I can taste the atrocities committed here in the air surrounding us. It’s thick, like smog, practically choking me. Yet, as we forge on, we bypass a small kitchen-living area and a tiny shower room until we reach a door. This one isn’t hidden; the handle and electronic keypad impossible to miss. The chill I felt before turns into a full-body shiver.

Luc’s fingers shake as he hastily types in the code, the light turning green before the lock disengages.

“How do you know the code?” I question, fairly sure the only reason I’m asking is because I don’t want to know what’s hidden behind that door.

“It was a bit of a guess. I, uh, watched him type that code into the keypad on my door.” It’s clear he doesn’t really want to talk about it, and not wasting any more time, he pushes open the door. The movement causes a bright fluorescent light to blink to life above us, illuminating the small space and, more importantly, the wisp of a woman curled up against the headboard, staring wide-eyed at us as she fists the thin blanket wrapped around her.

“L-Luc?” she gasps, her voice rough and small. “What are you doing here? W-what’s going on?”

“We’re here to get you out,” he says, puffing his chest out a little. It would be cute if the situation wasn’t so dire. Other than a couple of books set in a pile beside the bed, there’s nothing else in the room, and my stomach clenches at the thought that this poor girl is locked up in here until her jailor—presumably Santos—lets her out. Given the miniature sex club we just walked through, I’m guessing the freedom outside this room is even worse than the hours of solitude and silence.

I run my eyes over her long midnight hair, thin frame, high cheekbones, and dark green gaze, finding it difficult to determine her age. She looks young, but her eyes appear haunted, presumably making her look older than she is.

Her eyes dart anxiously around our group before looking past us, out into the hall. “W-what are you talking about? I can’t leave.”

Luc shrugs out from under Jon, standing on his own two feet as he cautiously approaches the anxious girl. “Yes, you can. This is my sister.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward me. I try to give the girl a reassuring smile, although I’m pretty sure it comes across as more pained and horrifying, which would explain why she quickly refocuses on Luc. “She came to get me, but I’m not leaving here without you.”

The girl starts shaking her head frantically as if she can dismiss Luc’s words if she just believes they aren’t true. “No. No. No. No. You can’t. I can’t. He’ll find us.” She chokes on her words, her hands trembling as she fists the blanket tighter.

“He won’t. I promise you. Santos will be dead before he even knows we're gone, if he isn’t already.”

The girl’s dark eyebrows disappear into her hairline as her eyes widen. Her lips part on a gasp as if Luc has just committed a cardinal sin by saying such a thing. She seems to lose herself to her inner thoughts for a moment, and Luc takes the opportunity to edge closer until he’s standing at the edge of her bed. “Come with us,” he urges. “You’re not safe here. My sister and my friends, we’ll take care of you.”

That seems to snap her out of her stupor, but she goes back to shaking her head with even more vigor than she did before. “No. No. No. No.” The word is like a mantra she repeatedly plays as her hands move to fist her hair. It’s obvious the girl is spinning out of control, and Luc looks back at me over his shoulder, a helpless expression on his face as he begs me to do something.

Fuck, I have no idea how to help a girl in her position. Hell, I don’t even know what her position is, just that it’s seriously fucking bad. I don’t have the first clue what to say or how to coax this noticeably traumatized girl out of her room. Still, based on the steely resolve in Luc’s eyes, I know that he’s not leaving without her, and fuck, I think we can all agree that none of us would be comfortable leaving her here alone.

Swallowing, I place my knife in its sheath before taking a slow, hesitant step forward. The girl's keen gaze immediately snaps to mine and I try once again to give her a reassuring smile. “Hey,” I begin, forcing my tone to come out smooth but confident, like I’m trying not to spook a cornered animal. “My name is Sawyer. What’s yours?”

She just continues to look at me, not giving me an answer. “I don’t think she knows,” Luc offers. “Santos just called herhis pet.”

My lips purse, but I push away the anger, not wanting her to see it and think it’s directed at her.

“That’s okay. We can figure that out later.” Reaching the bed, I crouch down in front of her. “What my brother says is the truth. We want to help you, and we can keep you safe.” Her dull eyes just continue to stare at me, and I’m not even sure if she’s lookingatme orthroughme. “See,” I wave my hand over Luc, “we were able to get Luc away from Santos, and we can do the same for you.”

“He’ll come for me.” Her voice is so quiet that I barely hear her.

“He’d have to get through an entire army of men like Marcus,” I say, pointing at the man himself. “And the kids here are much harder to get past than they look. I’ve seen them take on men three times their size and win.” Reaching out slowly, I gently place my hand on top of the blanket covering her foot. “Santos would have to get past all of us to get to you, and I promise you, that’s not happening.”

The seconds tick by, no one daring to move as the girl weighs up her choices, until finally, she gives a slight, shaky jerk of her head which I take to mean she’s agreed to leave with us. Smiling at her, I gently squeeze her foot before pushing to my feet. Her eyes dart nervously around our motley crew before she pushes back the blankets, revealing a threadbare nightgown. Giving her a few precious seconds to gather herself and not wanting to seem like we’re all gawking at her like an exhibition in a museum, I turn to Luc and the kids and start ushering them out of the room. “Right, we gotta move. Come on.”

I feel Marcus hovering behind me, watching the girl out of the corner of his eye as she follows on stick-thin legs, her hips swaying in the thin fabric of her nightgown. She has no shoes on her feet and casting a quick look around the room, I don’t spot any. God, the poor girl is going to be frozen solid.

Marcus shrugs out of his jacket and bulletproof vest, offering them to her. When she makes no move to accept either, he undoes the Velcro straps of the vest and slowly lowers it over her head, fastening it around her before helping her into the jacket. “Can’t have you freezing to death on us, sweet girl,” he murmurs in a soft, low cadence. She stares up at him with those all-seeing eyes of hers before ducking her head, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Neither Luc nor the girl has the stamina to move too quickly, so it’s a slow journey back to the elevator. We’re all on alert, although I can tell Jon is trying to make light of the situation for the girl’s benefit, joking around and being his usual idiotic self. It seems to help, and I swear I catch the ghost of a smile on her lips a time or two. I also notice the hawk-like way Marcus watches her, but I shrug it off as he calls for someone to send up the elevator for us again.

“I’m telling you, man. It was a dick and balls,” Jon protests as we all pile into the elevator. “Fucking hairy balls at that. He tried to tell me it was the fucking Eiffel tower with bushes at the bottom, but unless the Eiffel tower is shaped like a dick, then he’s talking out his hole.”

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