Chapter 18 Dante
DANTE
Enzo and I stand at the foot of her bed as she sleeps.
"Are you sure you don't want to use any medication?" he asks. "It'll make the whole process smoother."
"No drugs."
The girl has been abused enough in her lifetime. I won't add to that by giving her drugs just to make her more cooperative during the interrogation.
"She might start to panic.”
"She's strong," I say. "She'll be able to handle it."
"Alright, I’ll be outside if you need me," he says, walking out of the bedroom.
I sit on a chair at the foot of the bed. I want to let the girl rest, but this needs to be done. Every second matters here.
"Sarah, wake up," I say out loud.
Grace's friend startles awake, her eyes widening when she sees me in the middle of the room. She sits up and presses her back against the headboard. I recognize it for what it is—a defensive pose.
I speak up before she can jump to any conclusions. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I came here to talk about something important. I have a few questions I need to ask you, if that's okay with you."
"Right now?" she croaks, glancing at the window and then back at me. It's still dark outside.
"It'll just take a few minutes."
She crosses her arms in front of her chest, assessing me.
"You want to ask about the organization, don't you?"
"Yes," I say. "I know it's dangerous for you to give me information, but I promise that none of it will be traced back to you."
"I believe you," she says. "But before I tell you anything, I want to know what your intentions are."
"I'm not going to sit here and lie to you that I'm a selfless man who wants to make the world a better place," I say. "But I draw the line at human trafficking."
"Why do I get the feeling that it's more than that?" she says, watching me. "It's personal for you, isn't it?"
I remain quiet. There's a dull ache in my chest now, where my unspoken truth resides.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything," I say, pressing Record on my phone.
"It's not something I can talk about without breaking down," she whispers. "Can you give me something to take the edge off?"
"Yes, of course," I say. "What's your poison?"
I expect her to ask for alcohol, but instead, she says, "Some chocolate would be great."
"Chocolate?" I ask.
"Yes, it's my comfort food. None of the bitter dark chocolate stuff. I prefer milk chocolate or white chocolate. And if you can warm it up so it’s a little melted, that’s even better.”
“Sure,” I say, looking at her with amusement.
A few minutes later, Enzo brings us an assortment of chocolates. She's quiet as she devours half a chocolate bar.
"This is the good stuff," she says, beaming at me.
"I'm glad you like it." I scratch the back of my neck.
She takes a few more bites. I catch sight of the tattoo over her wrist. They branded her like an animal.
My vision blurs. I start seeing red.
She puts down the chocolate bar.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
I nod.
"You don't look okay,” she says.
There's so much turmoil inside me, and I can't keep it contained. And the nights have always been harder.
“Ask me what you want to know," she says.
"Names," I say. "I want names. Can you give me a list?"
"What will you do with the list?"
"I'll behead anyone who's involved," I answer honestly. "Man or woman. It's what they deserve."
She looks at me for a moment. I can't tell what she's thinking, but there's a heaviness inside her that doesn't belong in someone so young.
"They went to great lengths to keep their identities hidden," she says. "I'm certain that most of them used fake names."
"Do you remember what their faces looked like?" I ask. "I can bring in a forensic artist to draw them using your memory."
"It's not that simple." She plays with the edge of her blanket.
"There are layers to it, Signor Mancini.
Just because you see someone working in the organization doesn't mean that they're there of their own free will.
Most of the staff were coerced and threatened into joining the network. Some were even drugged."
"What about the people at the top?" I ask. "Have you seen any of them?"
"Grace's mother was one of them," she says.
"Did you ever see anyone else with Malorie Thorne?" I ask.
She blinks. “Now that I think of it, yes. There was this man who was always with her.”
“What did he look like?” I ask.
“He was a tall man,” she says. “He also had ghostly pale skin. It almost seemed unnatural.”
Alarm bells ring in my head.
There have been whispers about a forgotten Italian mafia clan resurfacing from the dark. God, I hope I’m wrong about this.
“Did his eyes seem strange to you in any way?” I ask.
“Actually, yes,” she says, looking lost in thought. “Even though I only saw him from a distance, I noticed that they were very striking. They almost seemed like they were a deep shade of red or violet.”
There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“His hair and eyebrows?” I ask. “Were they white blond?”
She nods slowly. "Do you know him?”
"Unfortunately, I think I do," I say.
This can only mean one thing.
The Innocentis are back from hiding.
"Who is he?" she asks. "Does he belong to a crime family too?"
I look at Sarah. I shouldn't be sharing these things with her, but she deserves to know the truth about the people who hurt her.
"There's a crime family called the Innocentis," I say. "They're not a part of the big three, but—"
"The big three?" She interrupts.
"The Camorra, the Cosa Nostra, and the 'Ndrangheta," I say.
"These are the three main crime families that rule over Italy.
If there's one thing all three of us have in common, it's that we can't stand the Innocentis.
They're a family of albinos who have lived in hiding for hundreds of years.
They live by their own rules, and they tend to cause problems for the rest of us. "
"What kind of problems?"
"Their culture is very different from ours," I say, leaving the rest of it unsaid.
"Right." She takes a deep breath.
We sit in silence for a moment.
Then I ask her the harder questions. She answers every one of them.
“I’m not a pretty girl, so I was made a servant instead,” she says. "During the auctions, it was my job to prepare the other girls for the bidders. In a way, I guess I was complicit in their crimes. Refusing to follow orders meant being broken even more, so we just did what we were told."
Silent tears trail down her cheeks.
“You weren’t complicit in their crimes, Sarah,” I say. “You know that, right?”
She raises a shoulder, refusing to look at me.
"Something horrible happened to you. But you're a survivor, so you found a way to stay alive. Even if that meant shutting off a part of you just so you could do what you're told," I say.
She looks back at me now. Her eyes are wide as she stares at me. I can see the guilt still warring in her mind.
"They made me participate," she says, her voice quivering. "They made me be a part of their operation. And there were so many others like me. If we showed any weakness, they punished us in the most cruel ways.”
I try to stay focused on what she's saying, but I'm starting to see red again.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping this feeling will fade.
My hands ball into fists.
"Signor Mancini?" The girl's voice feels like it's coming from the end of a tunnel.
There's no way out for me. I'm too far gone.
"Dante?" she says, sounding scared now.
I open my eyes and focus on the frightened girl. When I look at her, I can’t help but think about my sister. Maybe that’s the reason I feel so protective of her.
"I should go," I say. "Thank you for speaking with me."
She blinks at me. “Okay.”
"Would it be okay if I questioned you again some other time?"
“Of course,” she says, looking concerned.
I stand and walk out of her room.
My heart feels like it's made of a thousand jagged pieces of glass. Every breath I take tears me up inside.
The heaviness nearly drowns me as I drive back home.
I should go to my own room, but instead, I find myself heading toward Grace.
I open her bedroom door and close it behind me. I stare at her sleeping form. I truly don't understand what it is about this girl. She makes me feel something I never have.
Serenity.
Just being in her vicinity makes me feel at peace.
I don't try to make sense of it. I know that this is bigger than me.
I sit down in the armchair facing her bed. I stare at her until my eyelids turn heavy.
I'm getting attached to the girl.
It's only going to make it that much harder when it's time for us to say goodbye.