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Liam will come. I just have to hold out and be strong until he does. Clutching the cross that hangs from the chain I wear around my neck in my sweaty palm, I remind myself how to breathe.
With no idea of what I’m heading into, I’m petrified, but I refuse to let anyone see that. I won’t be broken. I will fight against whatever I have to until my brother comes to rescue me.
“You forget that I’m not in the business of snatching children,” I snap at my brother impatiently when he eventually enters his office. He’s kept me waiting for over ten minutes in this hell hole, no doubt a tactic to get under my skin.
“Sorry, Raphael, I forgot that trading women is a far more moralistic way to do business.” Adriano sniggers as he passes me to take a seat in the high-backed leather chair on the other side of his desk.
“Why did you call me here?” I dust some fake lint off the cuff of my suit and try to act like being here doesn’t unnerve me.
“To discuss business, of course.” The smile he gives me is sadistic. I want to slice it off his face. “I’ve become a little overcrowded. I thought maybe you might like to take some stock off my hands. For a reasonable price, of course.”
“You know my stance on your supply choices, Adriano.” I move to stand up, but the smugness in his laugh fixes me back into my chair.
“You think you're so superior, don’t you, Rafe?” My brother’s head shakes in amusement.
I may be three years younger than him, but I’m almost two feet taller. His attempts to belittle me often fall as short as he is.
“I don’t claim to be a good man, just a better one than you.” I raise my brow and await his comeback.
“Everything I'm offering is of legal age. There have been some judgment errors lately. I’m sure after a little time in your care, they would be profitable to you.”
“Legal?” I check. It would be a lie to say he hasn’t piqued my interest. I won’t admit it to my brother, but business is lagging lately. Supply is short, and my clients can be very particular about what they pay for. An error suggests the females Adriano has appear younger than they actually are, and in my industry, that shit sells.
Technically, I’ll be doing them a favor. If I don’t take these women off my brother's hands, I have no doubt that their fate would be death.
“I’ll take a look.” I shrug, remaining cool as I stand on my feet and wait for him to lead the way. I will not have him think he has the upper hand.
Adriano leads me and my right-hand man, Ricardo, through his elaborate hall. With all the paintings and artifacts he has on display, you would be forgiven for mistaking his home for an Italian museum. I’ll give Adriano his dues— he creates a good illusion. Most of the people who pass through these walls—either to do business or attend one of his lavish parties—have no idea that a cellar of horrors lies beneath their feet.
Adriano stops at the small door beside the kitchen. It looks like it leads to a storage closet, but I know better, and as he nods at the armed guard protecting it to grant us access, I prepare myself for what lurks below.
The second he opens the door, I’m hit with the offensive aroma of piss and feces. The damp air sticks to the back of my throat, and there is nothing I can do to block out the helpless cries.
Ricardo holds his arm up under his nose and follows us down the staircase toward Adriano’s stock pens. I refuse to look into the cells that line the walls as I pass them. I get no pleasure in seeing children suffer, in fact, it’s always repulsed me. Many times I’ve thought about ways to shut my brother’s organization down. But that’s not a possibility, not while I’m a prisoner to him myself. It kills me to admit, but Adriano owns me just like he owns the poor wretched creatures who surround me now. The only difference between me and them is that I’m bound to him by secrets instead of chains.
“In there.” He stops at one of the cells and gestures with his head for me to take a look inside. There are four women crammed into the small space, none of them clothed. At my guess, I’d say they’d been down here a while, and it’s hard to tell if they are attractive due to the bruises on their skin and the mats in their hair.
“All are over eighteen.” Adriano announces, “Nico took a liking to the blonde one, but the rest are intact,” he assures me.
I move toward the bars and look at the girls more closely. They all have potential. Adriano’s men are trained to only take those that look young.
I have the space and facilities to accommodate them, and I’m sure they will be easy to train after living in these conditions.
“I’ll take them, have Nico transport them to my place in Peyton.”
I immediately turn on my heels and start walking toward the door out of here. The air is far too suffocating for my liking, and the noises surrounding me will haunt me in my sleep if I stay down here much longer. I have enough horrors of my own to keep me awake at night.
I’m about to take the stairs back up when a small stream of light shines through the barred window on my right and catches my eye. A glint of red toward the back wall has my feet changing direction and moving closer to the cell.
I’m intrigued by the way the young woman looks, her arms and legs stretched out and chained to the wall behind her, like Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. My brother always did have a keen eye for art. Da Vinci is one of his favorites; he even claims to own an original sketch in his collection, although I’ve never seen it for myself.
The girl’s head hangs forward, and her lack of movement has me questioning if she’s even alive.
“Open this door,” I order one of Adriano’s guards, and it pisses me off that he automatically looks at his boss for permission to proceed.
“Go ahead,” Adriano tells him, and I don’t look away from the girl to check if he’s curious or fucking smug by the fact I’m intrigued.
The key rattles in the lock, and the girl still doesn’t move. So, deciding the guard isn’t moving fast enough, I shove him out the way and impatiently force the bar door open myself.
