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He gives me one more look as he inputs the code for the basement. Every guard has a unique entrance key, but he doesn’t use his code—he uses Roman’s.

That should confuse everyone.

The door pops open, and the decaying scent of old sex, wet mold, and other stenches wafts up to us.

Swallowing, I gesture to him, signing, “You first.”

He smirks, wincing slightly. “Thanks for that.”

Together, we descend the dank stairs, going toward the small, round red light below.

The red rooms. Aptly named, these rooms are the absolute horrors of our world manifested. There are seven doors each leading to a room with one girl. There’s a chain attached to the floor, the manacle latched on the woman’s ankle. Each room has a small washroom they can use after seeing a man, but very little else. Only a bed and a door.

Pure terror.

One of the seven doors doesn’t lead to a red-painted room. Inside, it’s blue, with old relics from a boy’s childhood. There are signed trophies and footballs. Old posters are pinned on the walls, and stuffed animals lie forgotten in the corner. It has a small television for entertainment, screen dusty.

They’re all gifts from the men who used to visit the boy.

I stop before it, a swift sadness overtaking me. Gently, I press a hand to the door, and it gives slightly. It’s still unlocked, unused, a relic of the trauma my older brother endured. It haunts these walls, and me.

As a child, I could sneak out and visit Hayes in his room. Senior let me, I think. Maybe he thought it would keep Hayes obedient, or scare me with the promise of what I might become if I didn’t behave. All it did was make me angry.

I tried to stop them from hurting Hayes. I fought, kicked, punched, and bit to keep them away. After injuring the third man, Senior had to lock me in my room when men would come to visit.

I could never hear Hayes’s cries, but I always imagined them. His fear. His shame. The emptiness that came from when I couldn’t protect him. He was despondent after those visits, and only my presence could snap him out of it.

Tears sting my eyes and clog my throat. Dio, I can’t wait to burn this empire down for what they did to him.

Ello touches my shoulder. “We have to move.”

Blinking, I clear my throat and sign, “I know.”

He gives me a small smile, as if he can sense where my heart lies. But it’s not about the past—it’s about what I couldn’t prevent. I want to prevent such terrors from happening again.

At the third door down, we stop, and I use my keys to unlock it. It swings open, and inside, Cherry stands, her barely clothed body tense. She sees me, and her shoulders drop.

Behind her leg, her small daughter peeks her head out.

She looks nothing like Cherry. Cherry is blonde and fair-skinned, with bright eyes. Her daughter has dark skin, dark curls, and wide amber eyes. She’s not more than two and clings to her mother’s knee.

I can’t imagine what she’s heard or seen when Cherry has visitors.

Cherry signs, “Took you long enough.”

This was the deal I made her. She had to get information out of Freddie, and once she did, I’d risk everything to get them free.

Hell, she could’ve never have given me the information, and I would’ve risked everything to get her out. Her daughter, Margot, too.

I sign, “Let’s go. One bag. We need to move.”

Cherry hands the bag to Ello, and I pick her daughter up. Wrapping her in a blanket, I tuck her into my arms, and Cherry throws on more layers to prepare.

Sneaking back through the halls, I ignore the groans behind the walls. There aren’t any men here tonight, but it’s the women withdrawing that hits me. They’re in pain, left to rot. They’re only here to be used.

I have to help them.

Ello stops me and shakes his head. I read his lips. “Not tonight.”