I hear shouts in my mother tongue, rough voices filled with terror and pain. I don’t need to see what’s happening to know what it means.
The dying screams still echo in the air.
“Sounds like D’s having fun.” Erik grins.
“Music to my ears,” I snarl, the joy of the kill tingling in my blood. “Three less pieces of shit in the world.”
We shove forward, forcing our way deeper into this fucked-up den of misery. As we move, we’re throwing open more doors; behind them are women and children, faces etched with fear and exhaustion. We just gesture wildly for them to get the hell out, to run, and not look back.
Another door jerks open, and a half-naked shitstain stumbles out, his eyes a fucked-up swirl of confusion and dope, a needle hanging limply from his vein. Guy’s so far gone he’s practically in another dimension, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t a threat.
“Look at this fucking junkie,” Erik spits, disgust twisting his face.
“Pathetic,” I agree, my voice dripping with contempt. “End him.”
Erik’s blade flashes, and the fucker’s throat opens, blood spraying like a fountain. He collapses, gurgling, choking on his own life.
“Nice.” I nod, stepping over the body.
Erik wipes his blade on the dead man’s clothes, a satisfied smile on his face. “On to the next one.”
I kick in the smaller door, the lock splintering under the force. Inside, a young man is slumped against the wall, as thin as a stick, eyes glazed with terror and pain. His face is familiar, but it’s changed, twisted into a living corpse.
It’s him. It’s Nilo Williams.
My heart aches for Sophia. But thank fuck he is alive.
Erik steps in beside me, his eyes widening. “Shit, that’s him? He’s a fucking mess.”
“Yeah,” I agree, my voice rough. “Aleks is probably going to get rid of him.”
Nilo looks up, his eyes meeting mine, something like recognition flickering in their depths. “Help me,” he rasps, the sound hardly audible.
“You’re safe now, kid,” I say, but my words sound hollow even to me. “We’re getting you out of here.”
Erik’s already on the radio.
“D, we have him.” He grins in delight. “Time to burn this hellhole down.”
Chapter 12
Wren
The minute my brain pulls me from the dark, I know something’s off. There’s a rank stench in the air, like a mix of sweat and stale beer. Beneath me is a mattress that’s as thin as a pancake and twice as lumpy. Not the stinking tile floor I was on.
Fucking hell, where am I?
Nilo!
I hope that scrappy little shit is okay. My last memory is of two Russian gorillas closing in, hands itching to choke me out. I hope Nilo ran. But I doubt it; he was high as fuck.
Right now, I’ve got my own shitstorm to weather. Testing my bonds, I find my wrists and ankles tied tight. I’m spread out, my bare skin kissed by the chill of the room.
Goddammit, not again.
My mind starts replaying past nightmares, but I push them down, force myself to stay in the here and now.
Duct tape smothers any cries for help, reducing me to desperate, muffled whimpers. I tried to break free earlier, but all I got for my troubles was a swift kick to the ribs. It’s hard to tell how long it’s been – too long, that’s for sure.
