Chapter 8 Cassian #2
Keeping clear of the windows in case Jet or one of the soldiers mistakenly shoots me, I shine my flashlight down to follow the footprints, the disturbed layer of dust, dirt and ash.
I approach the closed door and listen for any sound beyond, but hear nothing.
Stepping off to the side, I throw it open and spin to aim the flashlight and gun into what’s beyond.
If there’s someone there, I hope to catch them by surprise.
But there’s no one. The corridor is empty.
It leads in two directions and at opposite ends, two sets of stairs lead to the upper level.
The house is enormous. She could be anywhere, if she’s still here.
If she wasn’t in that car that sped off as we arrived.
Focus. I need to focus and not think about the what ifs.
Here in front of me are two grand sets of curving staircases that lead to the foyer, to the hulking front doors.
A chaos of footsteps goes in all directions here.
Soldier’s boots are the only prints I can make out.
I look for smaller steps. The heels Allegra was wearing or bare feet if she lost her shoes somewhere during her ordeal, but it’s a mess.
A fresh outbreak of bullets from upstairs and outside makes the decision for me, and I hurry down the stairs into the foyer, out of the way of the long, narrow busted out windows.
Around the stairs are corridors leading to what I guess to be kitchens or an area for the staff.
It’s quiet, too quiet and the debris is undisturbed.
I’m about to go upstairs, to take out the soldiers on the upper floors so I can properly search the house when my flashlight shines on the farthest door.
It’s closed, but looking at the floor, there’s been a lot of activity here.
I creep toward it. It could be an ambush. A coward’s ambush, but I don’t expect anything different from Malek Lombardi. Keeping my weapon ready, I try the door, but it’s locked.
The sound of gunfire has slowed. That could be a good sign or a bad one. I can’t know yet.
“Allegra,” I say, standing to the side in case there is someone there. In case it’s not her.
Nothing. No answer. No cry for help. No one shooting at me.
“Allegra, if you’re in there, step away from the door. I’m going to shoot.”
Nothing. I’d rather be sure she’s not there, but as the sound of bullets slows even more, I know I may be running out of time. If Malek’s soldiers come out victorious, then I need to get to her and I need to get us out.
If she’s here.
If.
Fuck.
I aim at the lock, aim as low as possible toward the floor and shoot.
And I hear a scream. A woman’s scream.
Allegra!
My heartbeats surge. I shove through the door and rush down the stairs toward the sound of her scream into a cellar, rushing, following the sound of quieter, but continuous cries to a metal door. It’s pitch black here. Without the flashlight I wouldn’t see my hand in front of my face.
“Allegra,” I say quietly, pushing that door open. It’s heavy, one of the hinges rusted out and metal creaks as it scrapes stone floors. I’m surprised to find the door unlocked and prepare for an ambush, but when I shine my light into what appears to be a wine cellar, it’s not soldiers I see.
It’s her.
It’s her in a corner, huddled deep against it, small, so small I’d miss her if I wasn’t looking for her.
My heart stills at the sight of her and although there is a moment of relief, it’s short-lived because something is wrong. I feel it. I see it. I know it.
She’s naked, her skin dirty and bruised, her hair a wild mess, and her face when she looks up at me, squinting against the light, her eyes, they’re red and wild and I don’t know if she doesn’t recognize me, if her eyes need time to adjust, but she presses deeper into the wall shaking her head, whimpering, muttering words I can’t make sense of.
“Allegra. I’m here.”
She begins to rock, her whimpers growing more anxious and in her hands, she’s holding something. A dirty rag. Cradling it.
“It’s me. It’s Cassian.”
I approach slowly, keeping the weapon ready at my side in case we’re ambushed, but not wanting to scare her any more than she already is. She’s still rocking, eyes locked on whatever it is she’s holding, her body trembling all over.
“Allegra?”
I touch her shoulder, look down at the stained rag in her hand.
“Allegra.” My heart pounds against my chest. Nothing. “Little Moth?” I ask more gently.
At that she stops her rocking, if only momentarily. That’s something.
“It’s me, Little Moth. It’s Cassian.” Nothing. “Look at me, babygirl. Look at me. It’s me. You’re safe now.”
At that she lifts her face, her mouth open, lips cracked, her eyes huge with terror. I touch her face, and she blinks, but her eyes don’t quite focus on me.
“You’re safe now, Little Moth,” I repeat because she seems to understand that, to register something in the pet name it’s become. “You’re safe.”
She starts her rocking again, whimpering, muttering. Her gaze moves back to that rag and my stomach twists at the thought of what I’ll find. Of what he might have done to her.
I crouch down in front of her. “Allegra, shh. It’s okay now. I’m going to take care of you now.”
She’s still muttering, rocking, eyes locked on that rag.
“Let me look. Let me see.” My heart thuds heavy against my ribs. She’s alive, I tell myself. Whatever else he did, she’s alive.
I reach for her hands, but she shakes her head, draws back.
“Shh. I’ll fix everything, I promise. You’re safe now, Little Moth. You’re safe,” I keep repeating.
Her resistance when I cup my hands gently around hers gives way and I’m not sure if it’s relief or she simply has no more strength, no more energy.
Footsteps at my back have me dropping to one knee to block her from sight. I half turn, my weapon aimed, my finger ready to pull the trigger.
“Whoa relax, man.” It’s Jet. He looks beyond me to her, his brow creasing.
I turn back to Allegra. She’s still holding that rag, eyes locked on it again, muttering again.
“It’s going to be all right,” I tell her, setting the gun and flashlight down to gently take her hands in mine.
She starts to shake her head, tears streaming from her eyes.
“Shh,” I coax, and draw that rag away and the instant I do, Allegra screams a deafening scream, her entire body shaking violently as I hold her hands in mine looking at what’s inside it. At what he did to her.
She screams and screams and screams.