I hate how close it is to a part of my life that I try to forget every fucking day. Especially when I have to see it in my dreams almost every fucking night.
The smell of garlic and onions that hang in the air mixed with cigarettes and sweat pulls memories I’ve kept long buried out like a fucking photo album in my head. I roll my head from one shoulder to the other and turn my sights back to the red door on the second-floor balcony.
Once that door opens, it means they are open for business and that’s when the slime of the city crawls out of the woodwork with their cash in one hand and dicks in the other.
We’ve been tracking a senator’s daughter who disappeared in Florence while on a post graduation girl trip with several of her friends three weeks ago. We haven’t had eyes on the girl, but the trail led us here, to one of the lowest and nastiest prostitution rings in this city.
She’s a beautiful girl, the picture we were sent was a school photo.Her silky, long brown hair framed a heart-shaped face with full lips and green eyes. Eyes that held innocence and happiness. A smile with a bright future.
It’s been three weeks. I know for a fact that those eyes will no longer hold innocence and happiness when we pull her out. The senator will get the shell of his daughter back, but not his daughter.
The red door opening pulls me from thoughts that are only feeding my anger and anxiety. Since I stepped off Callum’s jet last week and the familiar smells and sights overwhelmed my senses, the chaos that lives just beneath the surface of my thoughts has been rattling its cage.
Even Mason noticed and asked me a few days ago if I’m alright. I couldn’t tell him that a blood lust I keep caged is scratching the walls, begging to come out and play.
“Party’s starting.” I say over comms.
“Roger that. Front door is open. Over.” Alpha 1 says as Alpha 4 pushes off the wall to move in that direction.
My part is to infiltrate from the back while Alpha 4 moves in through the front, followed by Alpha 1. I stick to the shadows and move toward the blue door on the first floor, the door used by the shit stains who run this fucking hellhole.
“Seven.” I quietly say to our tech guy, Spits, who has an infrared drone overhead, as I get closer to the door.
When my cousins and I were boys, our fathers taught us how to make the shadows our friend and how to disappear. Most people would see this sketchy fucking alcove as dark and dangerous. But I see it as a haven, each shadow a warm embrace to help me.
“Alpha 5, one heat signature inside door to your right, and one in adjoining room. Path to the stairs is clear from there, but multiple tangos on the second floor. I’ll walk you through it. Over.”
“Roger.” I whisper as I move closer to the door.
My foot is itching to kick the door in, but I try the knob first. Unfortunately, it’s unlocked. Either these fuckers are the dumbest assholes I’ve ever encountered or they think they are just that fucking untouchable.
The idiot next to the door is jacking off to a video on his phone and doesn’t see me at first, but it’s hard to be threatening or defensive when your pants are around your fucking hips.
When his head swivels in my direction, I’ve already slid the knife across his neck. His phone clatters on the floor and I grab his body as it slumps over in the chair, lowering him to the floor.
“Megint kiszállsz oda?” [You jacking off in there again?] A deep voice in the other room yells, but I quickly move across the room to stand on the other side of the door.
Hungarian is one of my more fluent languages, so just for shits and giggles, I respond. “Baszd meg.” [fuck you]
Silence is all I get in return, and I know I’ve tipped him off. I like it better that way, it’s more fun when they fight.
“Alpha 5, stop playing with your food. Alpha 4 and Alpha 1 are inside. Over.” Alpha 7’s flat tone is in my ear.
As he is giving heat locations to four and one in my ear, I smile as I hear a slight boot scuff on the floor just on the other side of the door frame I’m standing behind. My knives are in both hands and I wait for him to come to me.
A scuffle and yelling upstairs interrupts my fun. No fun and games for me tonight.
“Alpha 5, heat signature directly at your back on the other side of the wall. Over.”
That’s Spits telling me to take care of it already and go upstairs to help Four and One. Squatting, I round the frame and surprise him, his eyes dip from where he thought I was going to be, but before he gets a chance to aim at me, I’ve slid my blade across his inner thigh, severing his femoral artery.
He grunts and looks at the blood flowing freely from the cut in his pants and splattering loudly onto the floor. His eyes meet mine, and I wink at him as I shove my knife into his chest.
The yelling upstairs is louder and I take the steps two at a time. The long hallway is exactly what I was expecting after studying the plans to the old building, there are several doors on each side, no doubt housinga girl or two in each.
“On the second floor, clearing rooms. Over.” I say into comms as I open a door.
What I see disgusts me to my very core. A young girl is on a mattress on the floor, her hands in shackles attached to the wall. Next to her is an IV stand with a bag of whatever drug they pump them full of attached to the needle in her arm.
