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I glance at Heimdall and Hans. My gut says this boy is being truthful. He’s given us enough information to work on, too. We have a name, and names hold power.
I stand. Hans unties Eugene’s hands.
“Thank you, Eugene. You’ve been most helpful.”
Pulling my gun from my jacket, I shoot him right between the eyes.
Turning to my brothers, I say, “We work around the clock until we know where she is.”
They nod their understanding. Reaching for my phone, I dial Malik Jafar.
“I need your help.”
29
Anna
Freja and I are in the basement of a house that’s full of females of different ages, races, and sizes. The youngest in the room is nine. Nine! Bile creeps up my throat. I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen to her. The oldest is twenty-five. Some speak English. Most don’t. None of us have been raped. Yet. It looms over us, though. One of the men who brought us said it was only a matter of time before it happened.
A heavy weariness settles over me. I’m losing hope. Freja is leaning against me, moaning in her sleep. After we were shoved in the van, we were taken to the house and jostled down the steps to the basement. Freja tried to make a run for it, and they beat the shit out of her. She keeps holding her side, making me think they broke a few ribs. Someone whimpers. There’s always someone crying, it seems. I haven’t cried yet. I think I’m scared that if I do, I won’t be able to stop.
The only light in the basement turns on, meaning either someone is coming, or they are about to toss down our meal for the day. This has happened six times now, which means six days, according to one of the women who’s been here longer than us. It’s not our food. Instead, an older woman stands on the stairway with three guards behind her. She looks over everyone, meeting my gaze for a second. A small smile plays on her lips.
“That one.”
Fear steals my breath. Before I can react, two of the three men shove past women and grab me by the arms, pulling me to my feet. Freja cries out, begging them to let me go. They ignore her, but thankfully don’t hurt her as they drag me up the stairs. The woman is sitting in a chair in the kitchen. I have to blink several times because it’s so bright up here. The table in front of her is full of breakfast foods. All of my favorites. I swallow the bile creeping up my throat. Is this some kind of fucked up version of a last meal?
“Sit.”
I slide into the chair across from her. The guards stay close, making sure their presence is known.
“Anna Aakre, you’ve become quite the problem for me.”
I clear my throat. “And who are you?”
“Spoken like true Mafia royalty.” She smiles. “I’m Madame Gothel.”
The name doesn’t ring a bell. Neither does her appearance. She’s tall and slender, with sharp facial features that I’m sure I’d remember. Her dark hair has streaks of grey, and she keeps it pulled back from her face. Yeah, I’d definitely remember her if I saw her.
She huffs out a laugh. “You haven’t heard of me? I’m wounded.”
“Why am I here?”
“You are here because someone wanted you out of the picture.”
“Flynn said the same thing, but that doesn’t answer my question.”
“Fair enough. I was hired to remove you from New York. Not only that, but you are to be sold at my exclusive auction in two days’ time. This event only happens once every few years.” She gives me a small wink. “Have to stay off the radar, you see.”
“You’ll never get away with selling me. I’m from one of the most famous Families in the world. Anyone who buys me has a death wish.”
“You assume they’ll keep you alive long enough for it to matter.”
I feel faint, and she laughs.
“You’re looking a bit green, dear. Have a bite to eat. As for who you are, you’re right. People know who you are, and people are very interested in getting their hands on you.”
My skin crawls.
