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"Fine," she muttered.
"What’s your name?" I asked, before I could stop myself. If I was going to be helping this girl, then at least she could tell me what to call her.
"Selina," she blurted out, seemingly before she could stop herself. She gazed up at me for a moment, like she wanted to take it back; the vulnerability was written all over her face. Keeping her name from us had been the last thing she had been able to do to shut us out, and she knew it. Now, she deflated slightly, closing her eyes again.
I backed out of the room, leaving the door open and inch or two so I would be able to hear if she got into any serious distress. I leaned up against the wall opposite her room, staring at the spot I had just been standing, and listening to her loud, labored breathing.
It reminded me way too much of last year when I had been coming off the booze. I had been faced with an ultimatum: either I keep drinking, or I stop and actually face up to everything that had happened while I had been working as an advisor for the Caroni family and help make a real difference to the world in the process. A tough choice, but one I knew I would have to make eventually.
I had started working for Alex’s father when I was in my twenties, when the two of us had met through another Mafia boss who was sending us both out on missions across the city. He had the brawn, and I had the brains, and together, we were soon able to command some land that he claimed under his family name.
Which was fine by me. I didn’t want the stress of running one of these families on my own terms. No, I didn’t want the power, the legacy, the reputation. I was happy to keep my head down and keep feeding him information, keeping the business ticking over as he expanded and expanded, until he passed away and left it all to Alex.
And Alex had started to change things. Slowly, but surely. Not as interested in the violent side of it, like his father was, not as willing to send his men out to intimidate and attack his enemies. Even when he’d had good reason to, he’d avoided doing anything he couldn’t take back, until he didn’t have a choice.
And it had forced me to start re-evaluating the way that I had acted when I worked for his father. How cold and callous I had been—how I had sent men out to die and known it. Sent men out to kill and known it. Caused so much suffering in this fucking city, and for what? To help the Caroni family name?
I had started drinking hard just to cope with the memories I was living with, and it didn’t take long till I had totally lost myself to the booze. I wanted to be better than that, I did, but it felt impossible when I was wracked with guilt every night, every time I closed my eyes and thought about everything I had done.
When Morgan and Alex turned their attention to rescuing victims of sex trafficking, I had seen a chance at redemption, however slight—a chance for me to come out the other side of all of this in one piece, and start to make amends for all the shit I had done over the years. But I was still drinking so hard, so consistently, my head wasn’t clear enough to make and execute plans. I was a mess.
But the kind of mess I could just about keep quiet from everyone around me, the kind of mess I felt as though I could get away with, to some extent. Yes, I was basically drunk all the time, but I was still able to plan the attacks on the brothels where these women were being forced to work. It was nearly second nature to me, after so long working in the criminal underworld. For months, I could tell myself that I could keep living like this, and that nothing would have to change.
But then, I started slipping up. Mistakes, arrogance, that cocky, drunken confidence that landed our men in trouble when I failed to double-check the security measures at these brothels. I couldn’t live with doing more harm—with knowing that there were women out there suffering because of what I had failed to do.
I knew I had to stop. Nobody knew about my problem but me, and so, I had to get sober in silence, too. I had detoxed by myself, tapering down over the course of several weeks, trying to hide the shakes by claiming the flu and keeping to myself in the mansion where the girls came and went. I felt like such a fucking mess, and I kept looking back to that bottle, over and over again, wondering if it would have been easier for me to just go back to what I had known before …
But I knew I couldn’t let that happen. There were people relying on me now, relying on the Caroni family to get them out of the nightmares they were trapped in, and if I kept drinking, I was going to leave them there with no help, no way to survive, no way out. I couldn’t live with that, not a chance in hell.
Sobriety hadn’t been easy, and I still found myself tempted by booze all the time, but whenever I thought about what it might have cost, the mistakes I might have made if I touched that shit again, I knew there was no way I could let that happen. I had to keep myself together, no matter how easy it might have been to fall down that path once more. And, with all the horror stories I heard from the girls we got out, sometimes, it was damn tempting to just give in.
But here, now, standing opposite Selina’s room, listening to her in the throes of a hellish withdrawal, I knew I wouldn’t turn back time and come off it. I needed to stay clear-headed, to help these women as best I could.
And try to clear my conscience after all the shit I had done over the years.
Chapter Three – Selina
I cracked the door and glanced this way and that up the corridor, my hand trembling as I leaned up against the frame.
I had to make sure there was nobody around to stop me. It looked as though the coast was clear. I had been sure that older guy had been hanging around outside my door after he had come to check on me last night—Paulo, that was his name. I’d heard one of the other guards talking to him earlier this morning. I was pretty sure, anyway.
I hadn’t slept all night, tossing and turning as I tried to shake loose the withdrawal symptoms that were clinging to every inch of my body. I felt like I was on fire with restlessness, ants crawling beneath my skin as I tried to get some rest. My whole body was sheened with cold sweat, and I had to keep getting up to go retch over the toilet, nothing coming up because my stomach was utterly empty.
It had been a few days since I had arrived here, and I didn’t know when I was going to start feeling better. I hadn’t let anyone into the room to check on me; a few people had come by, including that Morgan girl, but I had told them all to leave me the fuck alone. To my surprise, they actually listened to me, but it was hard to take that as the win it was when I felt like such complete and utter shit.
I still didn’t know what was going on here, or why these people had taken me out of Stefano’s control in the first place. It felt like … like I was missing some big piece of the picture. Maybe they really were trying to help me, though I had a hard time believing that. I had been mixed up in this shit for so long, it was hard to believe anyone looked at me and saw someone worth helping. I wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect whore in that regard. No, I was an addict, a bitch, a mess, hardly the kind of woman who would have made for a satisfying redemption arc, if that’s what they were going for.
The other girls were gone. I had managed to get to my feet long enough to drag myself around the top floor of the house, where the rest of them had been staying, and there was no sign of them anywhere. Shipped out to other brothels? Or maybe … maybe they had gone somewhere else? Maybe these people really were here to help, and they had gone to start their new lives somewhere fresh?
I hoped that’s what had happened. God only knew how many times I’d had some guy come into my room and tell me that he wanted to rescue me only for it to turn out that his idea of rescuing actually revolved around me moving in to his place as a full-time maid and set of holes for him to use. All of us had heard it over the years, and I knew they were stupid enough to fall for it …
Right?
Anyway. I couldn't think about what was going on with them right now. No, there was only one thing on my mind right now, and it was getting out of this place and finding somewhere to score.
I knew it was a stupid idea. I knew I should have used these last few days with no powder to kick the worst of the addiction that had consumed me the last few years. But I couldn’t keep going like this. I needed a break from the painful discomfort that felt as though it was driving me crazy, and, with nothing to distract me from it, all I could think about was getting out of here and finding something to take the edge off.
I slipped downstairs, the money I had stolen from the brothel still stuffed into my pocket. It would be enough to get me a few bags, at least. I wasn’t sure how I would find someone to buy from in this part of the city, but there had to be somebody willing to sell to me, right? I could always spot a junkie, and I would just flirt with someone who would introduce me to a seller …
