I don’t say anything at all as I stare back at her. In her sleek, fitted green dress, her six-inch elegant black heels, she looks far too comfortable in this environment to be an ally.
My assumption is confirmed when Salvatore thrusts me towards her. The men on either side step forwards, taking hold of my arms. “Get her ready and then bring her up.”
Cecile raises a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Downstairs?”
I glance at Salvatore, catching his nod as he starts towards the house. “We’ll discuss her training later.”
My lips press together as Cecile eyes me again. Something vicious lingers in her gaze. “Wonderful.”
No, this woman will not be an ally.
I look all around me as I’m pulled forward. Looking for any gaps, anything that might give me an advantage if I can get away. The tall wooden gates built into the wall open as Salvatore disappears inside without looking back, and the men drag me after him. Cecile walks ahead of us, her hips swaying as she clicks her fingers impatiently. “Come.”
As if I can do anything else with their hands on me. “Are you talking to me or the dog?”
She turns at my snide tone. Feigned surprise sits on her face as she strolls to my side, The guards pause.
Her fingers shoot out, gripping my chin between sharp, vivid red nails. Cecile leans in close to me, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her deep blue eyes.
“We,” she murmurs, “are going to be such goodfriends, Caterina.”
There’s a promise in the curve of her lips as she turns from me. I keep my mouth shut as I pass through the gates into a cobbled courtyard. There are men everywhere, as if this is a military base and not a Cosa Nostra stronghold.
I know why.
My suspicions - the nausea churning in my stomach - both only grow stronger as I’m pulled through another set of doors, this time emerging into a dim hallway. The straight concrete floor, void of carpet or anything resembling comfort seems to go on for miles, the brass lamps adorning the walls the only decoration to be seen.
“Cheery,” I mutter as I’m almost carried along. Cecile opens one of the many doors, revealing a concrete staircase.
“I’m glad you think so,” she tosses over her shoulder. “Since you’ll be spending a lot of time here.”
We descend the steps, curving down and around, until we reach a locked set of steel bars. A guard steps forward to unlock it for Cecile, and she sweeps past him.
It takes me a moment to place the sound that echoes around us.
Breathing.
Lots of breathing. Muffled, shuddering, slow.
And the—
My own breath stops in my lungs. Cut short, as I look to either side of me. The men don’t stop, don’t even glance, too used to the sight as they drag me along.
Faces stare back at me. Somanyfaces.
Gaunt. Shadowed. Lost.
Red haired, blonde, brunette. Green, blue, brown eyes skate over me, dull and lifeless.
The vomit rushes up my throat, pooling in my mouth as Cecile pauses in front of another door. “In you go.”
One girl stares out at me, her eyes brighter than the rest and her hands curled around the bars of her cage. Cecile notices, and the girl skitters back as her hand smashes against the bars without looking down.
My face is full of the disgust that swallows up every thought, my mouth filled with the knowledge that the Asante family are truly the traffickers everyone murmurs about.
Stefano.
That disgust and disappointment battles for dominance as I think of him. So quiet. A silent shadow at campus.
