Chapter 26
MATTEO
My eyes pop open, but the sky is no longer blue, but black, stars swimming in the night sky.
“Fuck!” I try to jump to my feet, but still feel like I’m in a damn fog. I take a minute to close my eyes, then I get up, stumbling as I do. I can’t waste any more time. Who the hell knows how long I’ve been down and where Aida is right now?
I look around for the stuff that belonged to the men I killed. Once I locate it all, I stuff the keys and phones into my pockets, and shove both weapons into my waistband.
The shovels are next as I grab both, dragging them down to where I know the van is still parked. Once I get the damn thing started, I’m on the road, doing my best to maintain control of the wheel.
Thanks to the GPS they have in here, I know where I’m going, though I’m going slower than I should be. But not killing myself is high on the agenda.
Once I get back to the house, I jump out, finding the driveway empty, and rush toward the door. It’s open.
Slowly, I push it open further, not finding anyone there.
“Hello?” I rush inside. “Robby?”
The lights are still on, but the house is definitely empty. I have to make sure Robby isn’t hiding somewhere.
I head for the bathroom first though, finding a towel and wetting it in the sink as I stare at myself, blood covering my forehead, and staining my cheeks and jaw.
I wipe it all away, knowing I have to also change my clothes before Robby and I get out of here.
If the cops stop me, they’re really going to love the bloodied clothes.
Who’d believe I’m some kid who’s been locked in a basement since I was eight?
They’ll just see a man with blood on his clothing.
“Robby, buddy. It’s Matteo. We gotta go!” I shout. If he’s near enough, maybe he’ll hear me and come out. Aida once told me he liked to hide when he was scared. He could be anywhere. I can’t leave until I search every inch of this place.
Once I’m finally clean, I march into the kitchen. “Robby? Come on, dude.”
I keep moving, not seeing him anywhere. “Robby?” I run all over—the dining room, the living room, checking behind the couches. “Fuck!”
I hurry up the stairs, combing through every damn room, under beds, but he’s nowhere. When I get to Agnelo’s bedroom, I grab one of his black zip-up hoodies from the closet and leave my shirt on his goddamn floor.
Running back out, I continue searching, not finding Robby anywhere. They must’ve taken him. They had to have. I have to find him too. I’m ready to bail, marching toward the stairs when a screech of tires wails in the distance, until they stop.
“Damn it!” I whisper, removing a gun from my waistband. The vehicle had a shit ton of weapons to keep me company.
“He’s here!” someone shouts, then multiple footsteps slam against the floor. I slowly move out of the room and the floorboards creek.
Fuck!
“He’s upstairs!” a man whispers. “Move in.”
My pulse pounds heavy in my throat as I hide behind the wall right to the side of the stairs, hoping to catch them off guard.
They climb. Slowly. The stairs squeaking louder as they go up.
Closer.
Closer.
Pop.
I get one straight in the temple as he falls on top of another guy. I come out of hiding, firing a bullet into the chest of another until there’s only one left.
One I know well.
“Well, kid”—Louis Esposito grins—“can’t say you’re not clever. Nice to see you out of that chain.”
I snicker. “I did promise I’d kill you when I was eight.”
“Well, let’s see what you’ve got.” He raises his gun and fires.
I duck, rolling onto the floor before I shoot, hitting him in the calf.
“Fuck!” he howls as I rise, treading to him, weapon drawn. “You’re not as young as you once were.”
“I can still fuck you up.” He drags himself to the corner of the wall, separating the space between the two sets of stairs.
I kick over the two dead men as I climb down, and they topple before his feet. He points his pistol at me.
“You won’t be able to kill me, old man.”
But he tries with a shaky hand, the bullet whizzing past me, hitting the wall. Just as quickly, my finger on the trigger, I shoot, the bullet ripping into his hand, the weapon in it slipping out.
His scream turns into bitter laughter, the pain on his face evident, even as he tries to fight it.
“Where’s Agnelo?” I ask, now standing right before him.
“I don’t fucking know,” he grits. “He sent me here as soon as he realized his men haven’t checked in. He figured you must’ve escaped. The tracker on the van told him you were here.”
“Tracker, huh?” My foot comes on top of his hand and I grind it. Hard.
“Ahhh! Fuck!”
“Where’s the tracker? How do I get rid of it?”
“Go to hell,” he grunts.
I press even harder. “I can kill you slow or I can kill you quick. Pick one.”
“You son of a—”
“Call my mother a bitch and I’ll rip off your dick and feed it to you.”
His eyes go wide. He should know I don’t kid. If he doesn’t, I’d be glad to demonstrate.
“Under the trunk, by—by the wheel! Just toss it.”
“Thanks.” I grin, letting his hand free. Kneeling, I press the barrel of my gun to his forehead. “So, Agnelo, where the hell is he?”
“He didn’t tell me.”
“Think harder!” I roar. “Where does he usually go?”
“The…ahh…there’s a cigar shop they go to. Try there, okay?”
“Address?”
He shoots it off.
“Do you know where he sent Aida and the boy?” When he doesn’t say a word, I get to my feet, trampling his hand again, the heel of my shoe digging into his wound. “Speak!”
“H-he sold her. I—I don’t know to who.”
“And Robby?”
“Don’t…” His breathing grows tattered. “Don’t know who took the boy,” he grits. “He only tells us what we need to know. The Bianchis are careful.”
Lifting my gun, I stare hard into the man who treated me like shit. “I hope you have no kids. Be a shame to think you’re raising any.”
“No! Please!”
Pop.
A bullet enters his chest, another landing in his forehead.
I remember everything he’s done, the way he spoke to me. I was just a boy, with no one to help me.
Now, he won’t do that to anyone else.
AIDA
The gravel beneath my feet has been replaced with a cold steel floor. My loud breaths tighten around in the small space of the cage I share with another woman.
Her long raven-black hair is caked to her face, the ends matted, her dark denim jeans stained with brown at her knees. She hasn’t spoken a word since I was thrown beside her, maybe an hour ago or longer.
When did she arrive here? What will they do to us?
My heart pounds and fear creeps up my throat until panic sets in with a heavy fist. I’m alive. For now.
My arms circle my knees and all I see is Matteo. His body falling as I shot him.
I killed him!
Agnelo forced me to kill the man I love. I’ll never get over it. I’ll never move on. He’ll be with me for as long as I’m alive. The tormenting loss, it feasts on my soul until it’s all I can feel. I can’t think about him without dying inside.
The stinging within my eyes builds until the tears swarm, drifting down my cheeks. And Robby? My sweet Robby! I tuck my head against my knees and quietly sob, hoping those bastards don’t hear us.
There are two of them—tall, huge, standing yards in front, rifles slung over their backs. We don’t stand a chance against them.
The place is filled with piles of wood. It seems like some kind of factory or something. The woman glances quickly at me before zipping her eyes away to the men, dried black mascara running down from her bottom lashes.
How could people hurt one another this way? We’re worse than animals, aren’t we? We don’t do things for mere survival, we do them to hurt each other, and we don’t even bat an eye.
“What you lookin’ at, bitch?” the long-bearded man yells at her. She instantly stiffens, hiding her face in her lap, her heavy breathing causing her shoulders to tremble.
I instantly feel sorry for her, my own pain shelved to the side. “Hey,” I whisper, scooting closer. “I’m Aida. What’s your name?” But instead of answering, she continues to hide.
“I know you’re scared.” I gently place my hand on top of hers and she flinches. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” I edge my palm away. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk, but I figured we can maybe keep each other sane here, you know?”
She’s not much older than me, maybe even younger. Whenever I remember the club, all those faces there, the kids, the young women? I instantly feel ill.
With a sigh, I move back to my corner. I can’t force her to speak to me nor do I blame her for not wanting to.
A few minutes pass, and when I close my eyes, my head slanting back gently against the cage, she speaks.
“A-Ava.” The word falls in a hush of silence. “I’m Ava.”
“Ava. It’s nice to meet you, though I wish it were somewhere better.” I give her a sad smile. “Have you been here long?”
She moves closer to me. “Two days. Maybe more. I don’t know. I’m so hungry.” Her brows tighten. “They won’t feed me.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” She bows her head.
There are empty water bottles scattered around us, and a full one next to me I haven’t yet touched. This poor woman. What savages!
I’m glad I don’t share Bianchi blood, and then I think about my cousins Raquel and Chiara. They’re not my cousins anymore either. Stabbing pain plants itself in my chest. I really have no one.
“You okay?” Ava asks, her fingers attempting to swat away the strands of hair glued to her forehead from the sweat.
“No,” I say, and she nods because she isn’t either. How could we be?
“Shut up over there.” One of them comes rushing, banging his rifle over the top of the cage.
“Fuck you!” I snarl, the words slipping suddenly, and that’s when my eyes bulge.
“Shh!” Ava hums, but it’s too late, a vicious sneer grows on his face.
“Really?” His hand lands on the lock that keeps us prisoner. “You wanna fuck me, huh?” My heart skips a beat, sending fear riddling down my body in waves.
Why did I just do that?
“Yo, Ethan. The girls wanna fuck.”
Ava cries, her body shuddering, and my hand crawls to hers, holding it tight.
“Oh, yeah?” His lips jerk as Ethan marches over, throwing the rifle down as his stare runs past both of our bodies. “Get them out, then.”
No! No! No! Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?
The air grows thick in my throat, dread pulsing from within.
He undoes the lock and the men yank us out by our hair, me first, then Ava. They throw us onto the icy floor, holding us down with their knees to the middle of our backs as they drag our pants down.
The man above me lowers his face to my ear, his voice gruff, his breaths heavy, sending bile turning in my stomach. “You’re gonna soon learn, little whores don’t get to open their mouths without being punished.”
His hands are everywhere, under my shirt, inside me. I break with a quiet sob, lying there, my eyes holding on to Ava’s, her tears matching mine. In the darkness of shared misery, all we can do is hold on to each other the only way we can.
With our bodies pressed deep into the floor, while the men violate us, the tears falling down our cheeks, I reach my hand for hers, our fingertips almost touching. I did this. Me and my big mouth. It’s all my fault.
She screams as the man continues, slapping her hard across the cheek for making a sound. The one behind me grunts, pushing faster, and I pray for it to be over.
Just let them stop!
I cry in silence, not wanting them to revel in my pain, but I’m sure they are anyway. I’m sure it doesn’t matter to them that they’re destroying us.
When they’re done, they both climb to their feet. But Ava and I, we just lie there, sobbing in voiceless despair, our gazes locked. I’m sorry, I mouth. Because I am.
Her lips start to move, and before she can say a word, a bullet rips into the back of her head. And the shock in her eyes, I’ll never forget it, even as they drag me away, kicking and screaming her name as the blood pools around her face.