The scarred man sniggers. “Just a bit of fun.”
“Fucking move them. It’s stupid. Pathetic. This is business. Not a game. And hurry up… he’ll be here soon.”
“Walking into his grave,” the scarred man says with a throaty chuckle.
“Get her out of sight,” the Italian snarls.
I leap to my feet, ready to scream at them that they can’t hurt Julian, I won’t let them… but then he, the scarred man, stomps over, raises the rifle, aims the barrel right at my forehead.
People have ideas of what they’ll be like with a gun aimed at them. But in real life, any so-called bravery shatters and melts away. I take a trembling step back.
Please, I try to say, but I can’t speak.
He nods towards the side room. “Move. Now.”
He stands with his back to the door, rifle aimed at me, the light murky and dirty yellow. I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to. The second he dragged me in here, he wrapped a thick layer of duct tape around my mouth and head. It sticks to my hair, stinging.
“You’re lucky we got to be quiet,” he snarls, licking his lips.
I push myself against the wall as though I can sink into it.
My mind races to make sense of what I just heard. Julian is coming here… he’s ‘interested’, which means that he’s learned what’s going on here and is pretending to want to get involved. He must’ve somehow worked out this is where I came. He’s going to save me.
But he’s walking into a trap.
“I’ll bring his body in here when we’re done with him,” the man says. “Leave you in here for a while. Let you sit with him. I think that’ll settle you down. Empty you out. Make you good and hollow and waiting to be filled.”
He hasn’t tied me up, hasn’t bound me except for the tape at my mouth. He must not see me as a threat. It makes sense considering he’s got the gun and, no doubt, a history of violence.
Behind him, I hear voices raised. My hands curl into tight, desperate fists when Julian’s voice reaches me. “So, this is the stock, eh?”
“Rico didn’t tell you where he was going, exactly?”
“Nah, man. You know what he’s like.”
“Eh. Boss is waiting for him to check in.”
Julian grunts. “How the fuck is that my problem?”
I’ve never heard him like this—short and dismissive and cold. It’s odd, and I pray it’s an act… or is this just who he is when he’s in this world, his second life?
“Fair enough,” the one with the faint Italian accent says. “You like the look of any of these?”
There’s a long pause. I can only imagine what they’re doing: walking up and down the women, inspecting them like cattle. Sickness coils in my gut. I swallow hard, forcing the feeling down.
“Might need a closer look,” Julian says. “Some of them aren’t even looking at me.”
“Hey!”the Italian snarls. “Heads up. Now.”
There’s another long pause, during which the man opposite me keeps licking his lips and gesturing with the gun. I’d do anything to be able to do something. There’s nothing physically stopping me from tearing off the tape around my mouth and head, but the second I touch it, this man could shoot me.
“Not seeing the one you’re looking for, Julian?” the man asks him.
“Not looking for anyone in particular,” Julian grunts.
“You didn’t come here looking for your slut sister?”
The man opposite me sniggers. I can feel the tension in the room outside without even being there. My hands curl into tight, useless fists.
