17. Nikita #3
My brother takes one look at me and then wraps me in a big hug.
None of the men in my family have ever been afraid of showing emotion.
Max would never tell me to man the fuck up and pretend this isn’t killing me.
He knows how I’m feeling. There’s no point in hiding it.
It doesn’t mean I’m going to lay down and pull a blanket over my head, but lying about an obvious truth is a waste of time and energy, and I’ve got neither to spare right now.
“How are you holding up?” he asks.
“Not great, but thanks for coming.”
He smacks my back and says, “Of course I came. You traveled across the world to help bust my ass out of Colombia. You think I wouldn’t do the same for you?”
“I know you would,” I tell him, knowing it’s true. He may not have inherited a love of computers, but he’s smart, and he’s working in two Bratvas now. My brother can get shit done when he needs to.
“All right, so what do we have so far?” He ruffles my hair to remind me he’s still my older brother and then looks at our dad.
“Niki’s running a scan on Cupid’s face. We’re trying to match it to his old frat photo so we can get his real name.
Ellison is a cover,” our dad says, filling him in on what we’ve got so far.
“He also sent a photo of Sav. She’s okay right now.
She’s being held in some kind of unfinished basement or cellar, possibly a warehouse. ”
“So basically anywhere,” I say.
“You’ll find her,” Max says, and I cling to the confidence I hear in his voice, because I’m starting to fear that I won’t.
I sit back down on the barstool while my brother walks around to see how everyone else is doing.
Damien sits down on the stool next to mine, passing me another Gatorade without a word.
I know he’s frustrated that he can’t help, but he stays by my side anyway, and it means more to me than I can put into words right now.
I’ve been digging around on the dark web, trying to see if Savanna shows up on any of the usual places where I go hunting for perverts. Damien may not be able to read the disgusting comments on the screen, but I hear him suck in a breath when I scroll further down and he sees the photos.
“Jesus, what the fuck is all this?” he asks.
“Women who are being sold,” I tell him. “I just want to make sure Van’s face isn’t on here.”
“Do you need me to do it? I may not be much use, but I can look at photos at least. You shouldn’t put yourself through this, Niki.”
I turn my head, meeting my cousin’s eyes, knowing he’d sit here and force himself to look at all these horrible images just to spare me the pain of doing it.
As grateful as I am, I refuse to put this on him.
I won’t let him carry this, because Damien is the kind of guy who will carry everything, never once complaining, not even when the weight becomes unbearable.
Deciding I’ll comb through the rest of these when I’m alone, I say, “I just wanted to do a quick check. It’s a long shot, but I figured I’d try.” I pull up the software that’s still searching for photo matches on Cupid. “Hopefully we’ll get a hit on this soon.”
Damien studies me, knowing I’m brushing him off, but also knowing me well enough to know arguing won’t do him any good. Instead, he says, “If you change your mind, let me know, or if you want to take a break, I can watch this and let you know if anything pops up.”
“Thanks, man, but I can’t stop. I’ll crash when I have to, but I’m not there yet.”
“I figured you’d say that. At least drink the damn Gatorade.” He opens the bottle he’d set down earlier and puts it in my hand. “At some point I’m going to force you to eat, so prepare yourself for that because it’s coming.”
I look up to see the corner of my dad’s mouth twitch. None of us can pull off a full smile right now, but Damien’s mothering tone is enough to get a half smirk. All I can manage is a soft grunt because I know him just as well as he knows me, so I don’t waste my breath trying to argue about it.
I go back to staring at my computer screen, watching the software work.
Time seems to slow down and slip through my fingers in equal measure, leaving me feeling disoriented and anxious.
A new photo of several young men appears on my screen, this one from twenty-three years ago.
They’re standing outside the Alpha frat house, big smiles on their faces and matching Polo shirts.
The image is grainy, and it’s impossible to tell with the naked eye if any of the men could be Cupid.
I watch as every face is analyzed and compared to the reconstructed images I have.
While I wait, desperate for one of them to be a hit, a small, black box appears in the middle of my screen. I freeze, fingers hovering over my keyboard as I read the small text.
Do you want to see her?
“Fuck,” I whisper, getting both Damien and my dad’s immediate attention. My dad rushes over and reads the text out loud while I hear the others gather around behind me.
The writing disappears as another string of text fills the space.
You have thirty seconds to decide.
I hover over the button, knowing I have no choice but to click on it.
I know firsthand the dangers of clicking on some random link, but this is Savanna we’re talking about, and there’s no way I can walk away.
I press the button while my dad hisses out a breath and then squeezes my shoulder when a live feed shows up, filling my screen with the image of the room I’d seen earlier.
Savanna is no longer sitting on the bed, though.
The room is empty. The camera is high up in the corner, giving me an unobstructed view of the bed.
An icy dread slithers down my spine when I see that bare, filthy mattress.
He wants me to see this. Whatever the fuck he has planned, he wants me to see it and not be able to do a goddamn thing about it.
The scream that echoes through my speakers has me biting my lip so hard I taste blood. Even though it’s a ragged, guttural cry, I still recognize it immediately.
“That’s her,” I groan, unable to take my eyes from the screen, even though I know what’s coming. I know it before I even see the blonde head come into view. “Oh fuck, Dad,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.
I can’t see her face. All I can see is the back of her head, and then Cupid comes into view.
He fists the back of her hair, keeping her head down low as he pushes her towards the bed.
I recognize the blue shirt and jeans she’s wearing, and when he pushes her harder and she starts to fight back, he grabs both her wrists in one hand and slams them onto the mattress, holding her down as he starts to paw at her jeans.
“Fucking bastard,” I hear my Uncle Matvey growl. The tension in the room is palpable as nausea rises in my throat.
Loud sobs fill the air, the sounds of my girl screaming as she desperately tries to fight him off.
“Don’t watch, Niki,” my dad says, but there’s no way I can look away. I force myself to watch the screen, even though it kills a part of me to do it. I will not leave her alone in this moment. I deserve every second of the pain I’m feeling. She deserves none of this, but I do.
I feel my brother’s hand on my shoulder when I see Cupid pull her jeans down and then free himself from his own pants.
I hear a slight shuffling from behind me, and I know without having to look that every single member of my family has just turned away, refusing to disrespect Savanna by watching what’s happening to her.
My eyes refuse to focus, but at the same time I feel like every single detail is being etched into my brain.
My sweet, beautiful girl, the woman who loves to laugh and has a heart bigger than anyone I’ve ever met lets out another pitiful wail as he thrusts into her.
I wanted to be here in this moment with her, even if she doesn’t have any idea I’m watching, even if it doesn’t do a damn bit of good.
I still wanted to at least be here with her, but I fail her yet again, because bile rises to my throat and I’m forced to turn away.
I make it to the garbage can with seconds to spare before I’m throwing up everything I have inside me.
Sobbing and choking and hating myself while Savanna’s screams carry across the room.
My brother and dad help me, but I don’t hear anything they say, and I barely feel their hands on me when they help me up and over to the sink. I feel dead, unable to hold anything except a gut-wrenching pain that’s settled so deep inside me it’ll never leave.
It’s Sasha’s voice that pulls me out of it.
“It’s not her.”
I lift my head, noticing he’s the only one who hasn’t turned away from the screen.
“What?” I ask. “That’s her voice. I’d recognize it anywhere. That’s her screaming,” I tell him.
He gives a subtle nod of his head. “That may be her voice, but it’s not Savanna on the bed. Look.”
He points at the screen, and I force my legs to move. Walking around the island, I look at where he’s pointing, trying like hell to not notice the way Cupid is still thrusting into the poor woman on the bed, the woman who I’d thought was Savanna.
“Those are her clothes,” I say.
“You’re seeing what he wants you to see,” Sasha says, the only one of us who’s still calm enough to scrutinize what’s going on. “Look closer.”
We all try to scoot in, and I push aside my fear and rage and the guilt I feel as I slowly run my eyes over the woman, noticing the slight discrepancies I hadn’t paid attention to earlier.
Savanna’s hair isn’t quite as long as this woman’s and it’s a few shades lighter.
The image isn’t clear enough for me to see every detail, but I know Savanna’s body well enough to know things aren’t adding up.
The hands are slightly different, and as much as it makes me feel guilty to study this poor woman’s body while she’s being raped, there’s no denying that everything is a little off, from the slope of her lower back, to the lines of her hips, the curve of her ass—none of it is familiar to me.
It’s not the body I’ve spent all weekend worshipping.
He’s also being very careful to keep her face angled away from the camera so I can’t see it, and he’s only showing me as much skin as he has to.
I let out a relieved breath, even as I feel guilty for it, because whoever this woman is, she doesn’t deserve this. There’s no way for me to not feel grateful that it’s not Savanna, though. My legs finally give out as I sink back down onto the barstool.
“You’re right,” I say. “It’s not her.” I hear Savanna’s ragged sob through the speakers. “It’s her voice, though. I’m certain of that.”
“What if she’s there but not in view of the camera?” Mia asks, and I can tell by her voice that she’s having a hard time watching what’s on the screen. “Cupid knew you’d assume it was Sav, and he knew she’d scream when she saw what he was doing. She’s there, but she’s not the girl on the bed.”
“Not yet,” I say, knowing I have to find her before it is.