Chapter 32
Damien
Whatever Victoria gave me is actually helping.
Once they took the bag off my head, the dizziness got a little better.
The sway of the van isn’t as bad as it was last time, and I’m not hallucinating one of the worst days of my life.
My mind is clearer than it has been in weeks—clear enough to know better than to try and escape again.
They were smart this time. They didn’t show me where Ashia was, or that they even had eyes on her, but they don’t have to.
I’m sure they’re waiting for me to fuck up again so they can take her out, too.
I’ll do whatever they want. I’ve already sunken to the lowest I can go, so what’s another kill or two? DeLuca didn’t show me the cards this time, but I know Cinque has them. It doesn’t really matter who I have to kill. I’ll do it. I’ll destroy anyone but Ashia.
A part of me wants them to drug me again—just so I can hear her voice.
Soon, I won’t even need what’s in those needles, and perhaps that will be my only solace.
My own insanity will be the one thing I can cling to besides my love for her, and the two can consolidate to keep her close to me.
The thought of finally having her in my arms again is the only thing that’s keeping me from turning into a mindless corpse.
How much has her belly really grown in this time?
Now that I can sort of focus, I’ve been counting the days.
She’ll be nineteen weeks pregnant tomorrow.
Can she feel the baby moving? Is she eating like she’s supposed to be?
Are they healthy? There are so many questions that I can only imagine the answers to, and each one makes my heart shrink just a little more.
I understand now why my father was so stoic, and how he could seem so heartless while he had so much love for us.
I feel it myself, now—the cold. Despair covers my heart like a blackened cage made of evil.
It’s constructed of symbiotic, unnatural material that only constricts more with every harsh blow.
It knows I’m hollow, and that there are only two people left holding me up.
I’m sure it’ll try to take them from me, too.
Cinque hands me two cards, drawing my attention, and they read the same as the first assignment.
Each has a photo, an address, and special instructions that are written in Italian.
Fucking Italian. I don’t know much about the language, but I need to decipher what I can.
Nothing can go wrong this time. There can be no reason for them to go after my wife, and I’ll make sure of it.
I examine the first closely, noticing the appearance of the man, and when I move to the second, I freeze.
It's a woman.
My stomach climbs up to my throat, and I have to swallow it back down.
I’ve never killed a woman, nor have I wanted to until DeLuca.
Just when I thought I truly couldn’t sink any lower, they give me this task.
I protect women. I don’t hurt them… How am I supposed to do this?
What will Ashia think of me once this is done?
How could I have a daughter and ever be able to look at her in the eyes?
I’m shocked when Cinque taps my knee, but I look over at him anyway—not daring to defy him.
His finger taps against the man’s picture, then his knife, and then both of his ears.
My brows furrow, and I inspect the card again.
The word orecchie is in the first sentence, and I’m pretty sure that means ears.
Tagliare is a few words down from that, and the word is structured like a verb.
I look towards the front of the van to see Quattro preoccupied with driving, so I face Cinque.
“I’m supposed to cut off his ears?” I whisper for confirmation, and he nods. I look at the second card, and the woman’s doesn’t say the same thing. I don’t recognize any of those words except for tagliare, and I blink a few times to make sure I’m reading it right.
God, what do they want me to do?
I hold up the woman’s card to Cinque, and he barely looks at it before looking back at me.
He opens his mouth to show me his missing tongue, and I have to look away.
It’s not like I’ve never seen that before.
Hell, I’ve cut off a man’s tongue myself, but it’s clear that his was never treated or healed properly.
It must be at least a decade old from how the scar looks.
No wonder the man hasn’t spoken.
The realization of what they want me to do hits me like a train, and I flinch just at the thought.
They want me to cut out her fucking tongue.
The idea of defiling a woman in such a way makes me want to vomit all over this van, but I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.
I respect women immensely. The willpower and strength I’ve seen from them is unlike anything else I’ve ever witnessed—my mother and my wife are perfect examples.
It’s hard to wrap my head around this assignment, but I know it has to be done.
I never thought I would have to end a woman’s life to save my wife’s, but I will.
My promise to destroy myself in her honor stands, and while I never thought this would be my destruction, it’s now coming to pass.
Cinque taps my knee again, and once I look up at him, he briefly looks at the front of the van.
I don’t follow his gaze, but I’m assuming it’s to check if Quattro is paying attention to us.
He looks back at me quickly, then taps the woman’s card, and then his chest before taking the assignment from my hands. Relief instantly floods me.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper to him, wondering why the hell he would help me.
It’s clear that Saconne and DeLuca have put him through the ringer, but by Quattro’s enthusiasm, I figured they were all lap dogs.
I suppose he’s been through this ‘training,’ though, and with him being DeLuca’s pet, I can only imagine the hell he’s been through.
He responds by shaking his head and pocketing the photo. Then he taps his watch. I don’t speak mute, but I’m guessing that we’re on a tight schedule like the last assignment, so I don’t try to ask him what the fuck he’s saying.
“Two minutes out, feccia. Cinque is going to make sure you do it right this time. You have twenty minutes.” Quattro finally speaks and answers the question for him.
I keep my eyes on Cinque, and he nods only once, like it’s a silent message I’m supposed to understand.
I just nod back to try and gain my resolve before I sink to a level lower than I knew existed for me.
The van comes to a stop, and we exit quietly.
Whatever miracle drug Victoria gave me is apparently starting to wear off, because I can hear the voices try to confuse me.
No matter how tactically I’m trying to look at this, my paranoia scratches at the surface.
I look right and left, feeling like I’m missing something crucial.
Even as my body aches, there’s still a tingle in my spine that I can’t get over.
My limbs and back are still screaming at me, but that’s the least of my problems.
This house is much different than the last. It’s older, and clearly not as modernized, but I can see into the floor-to-ceiling windows and notice how exquisite the inside is.
The lights are on, and not just in this house.
Further down the road, I faintly see another older, expensive home, and weak lights glow from that as well.
With that knowledge, I’m assuming it’s not too late into the evening, but that’s a stretch.
I follow Cinque through the clearly-maintained shrubbery, around to the side of the house.
The night sky is clear enough, and the moon makes it easy for us to maneuver.
It’s sitting on enough property that the ‘neighbors’ can’t see anything, but it’s pretty open compared to the last assignment.
There aren’t really any trees nearby, and the ground is relatively flat.
In any other circumstance, this would be a beautiful home. Right now, it’s an elegant death.
As we approach a window, I can hear passionate moans and grunts from inside, and it takes me by surprise. Just when I thought this couldn’t get any worse, it does. This is one of those ‘why me’ moments, when of course, this couldn’t just have been an easy couple that’s already asleep.
Cinque taps my shoulder, and then my pocket.
I’m taken aback by it for a moment, but when I reach my hand inside, I feel a small, weighted piece of…
stone? No. It’s not stone. I pull it out and realize it’s a magnet of some sort.
He points to the window latch, then takes it from my hand—I assume to show me.
It magnetizes to the hinge, and as he slides it upward, not only does it unlock the window, but it keeps the alarm from engaging.
Was that in my pocket last time? I didn’t even think of checking them.
Why would I have any reason to think they would supply me with anything that would help?
Saconne did say something about ‘the Society,’ and Victoria said they were involved in more than I could ever imagine.
The ones with numbers are obviously trained assassins, but what if it’s all tied together?
The trafficking, the assassins, this Society?
When we finally get out of here, Victoria is going to have to do some serious explaining.
Cinque pushes the window open and steps inside. I follow suit, having to bite the inside of my cheeks as I extend my legs too much. My muscles still pull in an agonizing way, but I can’t allow it to slow me down. The urgency and need to do this correctly are the first things on my whirling mind.