Page 94 of H E R
Every sinister occurrence delivered by his hand beams before my lids, like lightning dancing across a dark skyline. The photograph of the frightened little girl, Piper’s sunkeneyes, Macy’s battered body, the fifteen-year-old girl he fondled at the club, and just my inner thoughts of the most fucked up shit imaginable.
Charles avoids meeting my eyes, and he forces Carlton to stand so that he can continue to guide us through this shit hole in the ground.El cerro’scheek is torn and his blood trickles down to his white collar. He winces, but moves past the new opening.
The safe revealed a long corridor with a direct turn into a prison. Metal bars stand between us and about a dozen people.
“Fuck.”
My voice is meek, depleted, and fucking agonized by what I see. My bottom lip wobbles and I tuck it between my teeth. I can’t break down now, not here. Dylan walks past me and holsters his gun. He’s giving clear directions to Jason so that his team can find us in the labyrinth we’re buried under. But I’m not listening. His words are muffled between my breaths, heart pounding in my throat, and my blood boiling in my fucking ears.
As far as we can tell, not one person is over any age that would qualify them to be a consenting adult.Children. They all gather in one corner of their cell, crouched closely together in a sign of collective fear. From the corner of my eye, I watch as Charles instructs Carlton to turn around and sit on the ground, with his back facing the victims. He wants them to see we’re here to help and that we’ve apprehended their captor. In all the chaos, I’ve managed to remain in control. Not once did I feel as though Carlton would get away tonight. Specifically, after his men brought me into the cellar. They assumed I was a hurt dove or something, a fractured girl longing for a savior. I won’t deny I was terrified, but I learned years ago how to channel the adrenaline and train myself from freezing during a time of chaos. Butthis.No mental or physical training could’ve prepared me for this.
I bend down until my knees hold my weight, and I grip the cold bars in my hands. It’s my only anchor–they keep me in place before I deteriorate into vapor and suffocate Carlton from the inside like a noxious gas. Obviously, that’s not possible–this isn’t a fantasy. But here’s hoping. A little girl’s breath hitches, and it reminds me that I’m on the free side of the bars.Pull yourself together.
“You’re safe now,” I whisper.
During my little moment of weakness, Charles had pulled Carlton off to the side, delivering fist after fist that was supposed to convince him to cooperate and open the fucking prison cell. I don’t know how long I've been on my knees, but the kids on the other side of the bars have moved closer. I realize they’re within reach when someone’s fingers softly lace over mine, and I stare past the iron ingot to meet several skeptical eyes.Carlton suddenly starts to laugh, and it startles the few kids who’ve gotten near me, and they crawl back to their corner of safety.
“Get them out.”
I know it’s my voice, but I don’t recognize it. It’s harsh, tormented, and hoarse–as if my screams were real and not just in my head.
Dylan’s hands wrap around my shoulders and he pulls me up to crush me against his iron grip. He twists me around, and I get a glimpse of the room. It’s surrounded by what looks like a fucking SWAT team.
El cerroisn’t laughing anymore, instead he’s pleading for his life and swearing that this is all some terrible mistake. Everyone ignores him.
I roll my eyes. “You’re so fucking pathetic.” He stiffens but manages to glare at me.
“Open the cell immediately,” Dylan orders. “And get this piece of shit out of here.”
A full tactical team surrounds us, and two men huddle near the bars and produce an electric saw. Another gives the victims instructions, and he slips them a tarp and tells them to get underneath so their eyes are shielded from the metal shards that will fly toward them.
Dylan holds me close, but everything is a blur. Three men forceel cerroto stand and they haul him out. Charles leans on the wall, staring at the ground blankly. Dylan is barking directions. But I’m frozen in place. I vaguely feel when Dylan wraps me in a wool blanket and squeezes my shoulders. I feel the instant he leaves my side. Dylan approaches the men working on getting the bars open, and I move to stand next to Charles, who brings a cigarette to his lips and inhales deeply.
“Some Saturday night, huh?”
“Way to break up a party, kid.”
I roll my eyes. “Not you too?”Kid.What makes both Piper and Charles think that the five- to-seven-year gap between us is enough to consider me a child?
It’s my first time witnessing a smile ghost Charles’s face, but it disappears before its completion. “I assume you kept your promise.”
I round my shoulders and wiggle. The tiny rectangular piece of metal digs at the skin under my breast and I smile at him. “I’m offended you even feel the need to ask.”
Charles’s jaw tenses and his lips go taut. “I want to be there when you deliver it.”
I give him a lazy nod. Of course he would. Anyone else would think he isn’t a man, but a fucking robot. He’s so serious—a look of stoic resignation and sheer embodiment of asoldier at a kill zone—it’s unnerving. But whenever he talks about Piper, or if she’s in his presence, he comes to life. His devotion is unmistakable.
Two officers approach us, and I think they’re going to give us a couple of water bottles like they did the prisoners, but they flip us around and crush us against the wall. My chin scrapes against the grainy cement.
“You have three seconds to back the fuck up!” Charles manages. His face is pressed up against the cement wall, eyes glued to mine.
Someone, who I’m sure is Dylan, forcefully yanks my aggressor off. The wool blanket drops from my shoulders and just as I’m about to turn, I witness Dylan transform from man to beast. His upper lip furls back, his fingers wrap around the guy’s neck, and he tosses him aside like a fucking gum wrapper. The armed one who’d tackled Charles apparently heard the commotion and stepped away, his expression apologetic and terrified.
“Who the fuck told you they were to be touched?”
“I did.”
A guy in a gray suit waltzes in. He smooths his hand over his tie and adjusts it, even though it’s perfect, then he slips his hands into his pockets. Charles leans on the wall and lights up another cigarette, and I bend down to retrieve the blanket. I don’t want to be practically naked anymore. I would kill for some joggers, a t-shirt…and my sneakers.