“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it,” Dario tries to soothe me. “Unless you need to, I get that.”
“No, youdon’tget it! Every minute we spend here - with this evil bastard alive - just increases the risk that they’ll find Him. “I can’t-” I’m backing away, shaking my head, “I can’t be here.”
“Cora,” Dario takes me by the shoulders, making me look at him. “I promise you-”
“You already did that,” I interrupt him, “and He’s still alive.”
Dario’s amber eyes are concerned, but he’s wrong to be worried aboutme.There are real dangers here, I don’t care how tough he thinks he is. “He is still useful to us,” he says, “with the information we get out of Schmidt, we’ll be able to hunt down more traffickers like him.”
“Useful,” I said bitterly, “do you even hear yourself? Still valuable information… still useful. You’re never going to kill Him, are you? You don’t care that every minute that monster is drawing breath is simply one more minute that allows His sick little buddies to find Him. You think you’re the hero because you’re extracting information?”
“I know you’re terrified,” Dario said carefully, “I completely understand why. I will keep you safe, Cora. I promise you this. He may be powerful, but so are we. We took down his compound’s security in minutes and blew that piece of shit sky-high, we are torturing him to track down the rest of his network of men who buy and sell women and he will not get out of here alive.”
“Tell that to the poor girl on the helicopter,” I snapped back.
His expression froze into cold, composed lines. “You should try to rest now, Cora. We can talk later about getting you home.” He paused by the door, eyes narrowed, “As soon as you tell me where home actually is.”
Dario shuts the door behind him and I strain to hear if he’s locking it.
By the time I work up my courage, it’s midnight and when I open my door, everything is quiet. I find the shoes Dario brought in with the clean clothes and slip them on. Putting my forehead against the doorway, I shove down my rising panic.
“I survived ten weeks chained in His dungeon,” I whisper, “I can do this.”
I’m gripping the syringe filled with a sedative that I stole from Edoardo's medical kit as I tiptoe down the hall. I walked around the safehouse with Dario a couple of times over the last day or so, enough to memorize the exits and see where they’re holding Him since I doubt the armed guard is for anyone else.
The house is quiet, I don’t know who’s out, or who’s sleeping, but the only person I see is Carlo, sitting next to the locked door where I’m sure they’re holding Him.
I like Carlo, he was kind to me and made sure He was unconscious so He didn’t know I’d been rescued. But now he is about to hate my guts.
“Cora, what are you doing up?” Carlo said quietly, “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” I whisper, “I looked out my window and I saw a strange car parked down the road a bit. I know I’m just being paranoid, but… could you please check it out?”
He frowns, stepping forward. “Of course. I have two men patrolling outside, they should have notified me.” He’s heading for the front door and I awkwardly jam the syringe in his shoulder and push the plunger.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I whisper frantically as I yank the pillowcase over his head. I’d been hiding it under my shirt. “It’s a fast-acting paralytic. Edoardo used it on Him. It won’t last long.”
Carlo’s strong, he’s fighting the sedative and I’m clinging to him as he stumbles to one knee and then the other, falling face forward. I wince, trying to catch him so he won’t break his nose. Tugging and rolling his limp body, I hide him behind the couch in the main room. I take his wallet, shoving it into the back of my jeans.
Pulling his gun from his holster, I examine it nervously. It’s a Smith & Wesson, good. I know how to take off the safety and make sure there’s a round chambered.
“Take a deep breath, and focus…” my bodyguard would tell me.“Squeeze the trigger on the exhale.”
Holding up the gun, I pause outside the door. He’s in there. I know it, like it’s some kind of psychic stench.You have to do this,I lecture myself.
As the door swings open, I want to turn around and run away, screaming until my voice gives out. He’s looking up, and when He sees me, He gives me a huge grin. It’s horrible like a snake unhinging its jaw.
“I knew you were here; I could feel you,” He says rapturously.
He’s covered in blood and bruises. Good. He should suffer. It will never be enough. There are several teeth missing in His snake-like grin, and His left arm is hanging loose, like it’s broken. He’s chained to the wall, just like I had been, and His breathing is as labored as mine, but I suspect His is from broken ribs.
Then I see that He’s missing all the fingers on His right hand and I vomit, l trying to lean away to keep it off my shoes.
“Ah, you see what these barbarians have done?” He said sadly, “They have hurt me so badly,Liebste.You are here to save me, aren’t you? They don’t understand our bond.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I try to sound strong and cold, but it comes out in a gurgle. I lift the gun, willing my hands not to shake.
If possible, He grins even wider. “Liebste,you won’t hurt me. I know you love me as I do you. You can’t-”
