Purgatory

by Hayley Smyth

  And today was the day. Archie was sending me into the miles of tunnels that had been reopened, and there was a steady charge of excitement flying from him to me. The team had packed up their machines, and it was just me, Graham and Archie now, standing at the mouth of the old mine, quiet for a moment as we pondered what may what for us. Explosives we’d had built especially and had spent two days being trained on how to use them, and defuse should we need to. I fucking loved it, proper work I could sink my teeth into, and hell, if it meant Jax finally got the girl after years of flitting from one to the other, I had to do it. The man was my best friend, my brother, his blood may not have flowed through my veins but we were forever tied together with an unseen yet cemented bond.

  Today was D-Day, and as I wiped the sweat from my forehead and grabbed the gear I’d need to brave the mines, me and the men shared a knowing look.

  War was coming, and we sure as shit weren’t going to be waving no damn white flag.

  Fuck Vlad and fuck everything he stood for.

  “Here, a camera to capture this footage,” Graham said as he attached a tiny piece of equipment to the collar of my shirt. “And to keep an eye on you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m fucking pumped. It makes me wonder why we didn’t do this years ago.”

  Archie smiled that fucking Murdoch smile that made me miss his son even more. “We had no reason to. But he took my boy from me.”

  “Only Jaxon fucking Murdoch would fall in love with the enemy,” I laughed as Graham finished hooking me up with a camera and microphone.

  Archie couldn’t help but chuckle before falling quiet once more. “Does Mindy know?”

  Carter nodded. “Yeah, I told her. She’s cool.”

  “Right, you’re all set. And remember: use the weapon if you have no other choice. These mines are old, only Christ knows how well the walls will take bullets hitting them, and I don’t want to be dragging your crushed ass from out of there.” Graham said, stepping back to observe me once more. “I suppose you’ll do.”

  Graham gave Archie a curt nod and left us alone for a moment. Archibald stepped towards me and held my shoulders, dark Murdoch eyes bore into me, and for some unknown fucking reason, I felt my throat choking with emotion.

  “Stick to the plan, son. There may be children down there, we don’t know how many there could be, but if it’s more than we could ever have imagined, then you call us for backup, you hear me?”

  I nodded. “Sir.”

  Archie looked over his shoulder towards Graham. “Camera and mic working, okay?”

  Graham gave a thumbs up. “All set.”

  “I know we’re big strong men, Carter, but I am so damn proud of you, son. I always have been and always will be. We all know you weren’t dealt the best hand, but you’re family, son, and no matter what happens, not just today but every day from now - I’ll always be here, and you’ll always have the love of myself and Nancy. Even Kendra.”

  Fucker. I swallowed the lump in my throat, leaving it wedged in my chest. “Fuck, Arch, I’m going to rescue some babies and plant some explosives, not actually going to war.” I nudged him, feeling like laughing for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

  For Amy and our baby, I was going to, potentially, save God knew how many little lives.

  For Amy, and women like her, I was going to be a part of the bigger plan.

  For Amy, I vowed to be the best man I could be.

  “Let’s fucking do this.” I grinned, grabbing the heavy duffel bag filled with the bombs.

  Archie smiled. “That’s my boy.”

  Ella.

  Every single part of me ached. But most of all, my heart yearned for Jax. In a windowless room, it was impossible to know when the day began and the night ended. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how long I’d been down here. Memories of a funeral, of Jaxon taking me as though I were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid on eyes, hit me. It took me several moments before I realized these images were memories and not something my beaten mind had created.

  Where is he? Where am I? I asked myself over and over.

  I’d was strapped to a metal chair now, my wrists burned, and my legs were screaming at me to stand up, to walk once more, and I couldn’t, my naked body cold. Aside from sit there and cry, there wasn’t much else I could do. My mind flicked back and forth to thinking of my parents, their neglect and drug addiction, how cold the house always was, how I longed for my Daddy to love me. How I used to wish my Mama would snap out of her trance, eyes looking at something other than that TV screen, and realize that I was there.

  I’d spent my entire childhood longing for love, and then came Vladimir.

  Thirteen long years.

  And last, but by no means least, Jaxon Murdoch.

  A sob escaped my lips as I thought of him, as I thought of my darling child and how close I’d come to see her again.

  Was this it? Is this where my life ended?

  Everything hurt, and I couldn’t begin to make sense of Amy.

  After making her dramatic entrance, she’d left me, walking from my prison arm in arm with Vladimir, his hand resting across her bump. It had been a strange sight, watching Vladimir relinquish all authority over me, he’d stood behind her and watched with potent lust in his eyes as Amy had demanded I sit in the chair and cooperate as she tied me up.

  I wasn’t sure what was worse - the sitting and waiting in silence, or being surrounded by people who despised me.

  The sound of a bolt moving and a lock clicking hushed the thoughts and had me sitting up straight, wincing as I inadvertently pulled against my restraints. My back was to the door, so I couldn’t see who was entering, but the click-clack of heels against concrete told me it was Amy. My heart sunk, and my earlier question answered - the silence and waiting was preferred.

  “How are you, Ella?” Came her sickly sweet voice.

  I shuddered. “Where am I?”

  She laughed, stepping into my line of vision, scissors held in her right hand. “Let’s call it backstage, shall we?”

  “What?” I half sobbed.

  “I don’t know how much you know about me, and I’m sure anything you do know doesn’t come close to the truth of who I am, but I’ve always enjoyed a good show, Ella, and tonight, honey, Broadway is coming.” She stepped towards me, the fingers of her free hand reached out to stroke and pull on my red curls. “Such beautiful hair,” she said. “I’m surprised she didn’t inherit this.”

  My heart stopped, slammed to a halt in my chest, almost throwing me forward. “Have you seen her?” I cried, moving my head from her evil touch. “Where is she? Where’s my daughter?”

  “Who?” She smirked.

  “My daughter.”

  “What’s your daughter’s name?”

  I gasped. Was this Amy? The woman I’d saw Carter break his heart over, the woman who had meant the world to Jax. The woman who, up until now, had been a sparkling star in a very dark night. I couldn’t connect the Amy before me, and the one Jaxon had described.

  “I-I don’t know what her name is,” I said, slumping into the chair.

  “I’ve seen more than you’ll ever realize, Ella.” Sighing, she stalked behind me, hand moving through my hair, and I couldn’t breathe. She opened and closed the scissors, and the penny dropped, clanging to the stone floor and echoing all around my brain.

  “Please, don’t. Please just leave me alone.” My voice croaked, it sounded as pathetic as I looked.

  She was stronger than she looked, her hand grabbing my throat and forcing my head back to look up into her green eyes I hadn’t expected. There was a sneer tugging at her perfectly plump lips, and she still looked beautiful. My neck felt as though it was one wrong move from snapping, so I stayed still, hands gripping the metal arms of the chair, bare chest heaving in terror.

  “Let me get something straight right now, Ella, you listening?” Her golden hair hung either side of her face, brushing against my sweat-soaked and tear-stained che
eks. “This is my goddamn night, you are my goddamn prisoner, and I’m directing this goddamn show. So, if I want to cut these curls, then I will. If I want to fuck your husband, then I will. If I want to destroy you and break Jaxon fucking Murdoch’s heart, then I will.” She threw my head forward, and my lungs screamed, coughs tore through me, oh the pain. “Count yourself lucky I’m not slitting that pretty little throat yet.”

  I felt her grab a curl at the back of my head and heard the tell-tale sound of scissors cutting.

  It’s only hair, Ella, I told myself, but my tears still came.

  She hacked at my hair until there was hardly anything left. Just tufts of red hanging my ears, I dared to look down at one point during the whole thing and saw clumps of hair on the floor. There was no logic to her torture; what was she gaining by taking away my hair? Was she trying to rip the last shred of personality I had? Take away the one thing that I’d managed to cling on to during my imprisonment?

  When she was satisfied I looked horrendous, she left me alone once more.

  And it was when my sobs subsided, and I was quiet once more, when I heard it.

  The gunshot.

  The gunshot that came from beyond the wall in front of me.

  Carter.

  Shit, I never knew that I could feel claustrophobic, but the farther I trekked inside these narrow tunnels, the worse I felt. It was a strange sensation, as though invisible hands were snaking around my throat, an unknown heavy force pressing against my chest, the feeling as though someone was watching me. The damn heat wasn’t helping either, sweat poured from my head, dripping into my eyes; the bottles of water Archie had given me were almost empty, and I still had ten minutes or so to walk.

  The guys had dug the mines out once more, up until the point where a room was found. They didn’t want to get involved any more than that, so what waited for me was a mystery. The thought of kids being kept down here made my skin crawl, and now and then had me looking at the tattoo I’d had done on my forearm. An angel in prayer, in memory of the son or daughter that would forever remain young. Purgatory’s Angels I found out Vlad called it. Sick mother fucker. These were baby girls sent away from their mothers left and raised by…who? We had no fucking clue, but I’d been given a new burst of motivation and determination to expose everything, the claustrophobia wasn’t going to stop me. No chance.

  My earpiece crackled, and Archibald’s voice filtered into my ear. “Almost there, my boy, half a mile, maybe less.”

  “And you’re sure these run near Vlad’s mansion?”

  “Certain. We just couldn’t pinpoint the exact location as the room was never part of the plans, for obvious reasons.”

  I sighed, wiping sweat from my face. “Jesus. What if there’s loads down there, Arch? What the hell are we going to do with them all?”

  “Nancy and I will look after them for the time being until we can find their mothers.” There was tension in the old man’s voice, as though there was more to that sentence, and I knew what it was: Until we can find their mothers, if they’re not dead, of course.

  I was silent for a moment, navigating a slight bend, mindful of the loose rocks either side of my head and underfoot. “They looked pretty good together, though.” I smiled.

  “Jax and Ella?”

  I nodded, ignoring the burning in my thighs as the bag on my back started to grow heavier. “The way she looked at him, man, when she thought no-one was looking at her.”

  “I have to admit - I saw him looking at her the same way. That’s when I knew this was more, you know? Not just Jax thinking with his dick.”

  I laughed at that. “In his defense, Arch, he never really thought with his dick. He had plenty of opportunity to, but other than Mindy, he’s never really been the type.

  "Do you remember the girl he was seeing way back when?” Archibald asked.

  “Mila? Fuck, there’s a name I haven’t heard in years.”

  “I always wondered what happened to her. I never liked to ask, Jax was more secretive during his teenage years than Kendra. She’s never been shy.”

  I had to bite my tongue at hearing her name. In recent weeks, when I wasn’t working with Arch and at the Murdoch’s wandering around with train-crash thoughts, Kendra was the one who had kept me company. I’d been fucking sullen and silent at first, but she wouldn’t give up. She’d sit there with me in a weirdly, comfortable silence, drinking with me into the night when Nancy wasn’t home, tempting me with food, which I almost always refused to eat. After a while, she’d somehow managed to get me to speak, not about anything of importance, things like the weather, the fact that the bathroom still needed re-tiling, we’d even FaceTimed Mindy a couple times and let her know how Jax was doing. Before I realized what was happening, I woke up in the mornings looking for to seeing Kendra and drinking her coffee.

  I was sure it meant nothing. Kendra had always been the same any time she saw someone who was broken, and she was a true mother hen - with a slight attitude and a take-no-shit way about her.

  Lost in thoughts of my best buddy’s sister, I almost stumbled down a considerable drop when Archie called my name. “Stop! Jesus, Cart.”

  Gripping the walls either side of me, my eyes widened as I peered into the hole, the room.

  “Are you fucking seeing this?” I asked, stepping just an inch closer to the drop.

  “Be careful; we don’t know who has access.”

  The drop was high but not too high to keep me from making the jump.

  Keeping still and holding my breath, I listened for sounds, signs of life inside this tomb, and once I was sure it was clear, I lowered the bag to the floor, stretching my arm as far down as possible, so nothing inside the bag was damaged.

  “I’m going in,” I said, dangling my legs over the edge before pushing myself off the wall.

  I landed like a cat, silent, yet bolts of lightning pain shot through my thighs.

  “You okay?”

  I stood, heart, hammering at what I was seeing. “I’m fine; I’m gonna take a look around.”

  I’d never expected anything like this. The entire room was open plan, everything on show, apart from the bathroom which, I assumed, was the door on the far side of the room. To my left was a small kitchen, the counters were littered with empty cartons of milk, the cupboard doors hanging by loose hinges, an overflowing trash can. There was a long wall, and running along it were six cribs. All empty. I moved closer to inspect them. Above each one on the walls were charts of some kind, detailing the babies names, father’s name, several dates written with their feeding schedules. The mattresses were all bare, filthy, and stained yellow in some places. The sight made my stomach churn. I walked past each crib, reading the notes until I came to the crib closest to the living room. Made up with pale pink sheets, they were tatty and ragged. Folded neatly at the top, was a small white blanket, its edges fraying, and an empty juice bottle lay next to it.

  An icy chill shot through me.

  “Arch, there’s at least one baby here. You seeing this?”

  “Yes, son. Keep searching; we need all the footage we can get.”

  “These notes? They’re worth taking, right?” I asked.

  “Anything you think may help, Cart.”

  I turned my back on the cribs to look at the front room. It was void of anything homely, just a small pea-green couch with milk and chocolate stains on it. On the floor was a rug, a red and orange monstrosity, and on top lay several toys, cars with wheels missing, stuffed animals with fluff hanging from their bellies and eyes missing.

  But what was important was the sign of life.

  Someone had been here recently, that much was obvious, and a child lived here.

  Where was she?

  I looked back towards the crib that was made up and took the note from the wall, my eyes scanned the information:

  Sarka, 2yrs.

  Father: Vladimir Chrobak.

  Weight: 19lb 3oz.

  Underneath that were several handwritten not
es detailing how often the child fed, what she was enjoying, what she disliked.

  “This is her, Arch. Ella’s baby.” I said, my voice quiet.

  Voices from behind a door I hadn’t noticed made me flinch, and I looked up.

  “Someone’s coming,” I whispered, quickly taking all notes from the walls and running to the bag I’d dumped, I shoved them all inside and listened as there was a click of a lock and the door opened.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it sure as shit wasn’t her.

  Carter.

  She didn’t see me at first. Her arms held a sweet red-haired child who babbled happily, skinny fist clutching a small brown teddy. She placed the child on the floor and instructed her to go and play before locking the door. I leaned back against the wall and watched as the child threw herself on to the sofa, waving her teddy around and chatting, when the woman I’d come to know very well turned around once more, this time her eyes did meet mine.

  “Carter!” She jumped, dropping the plastic bag she held to the floor. The child startled and looked my way, but I was no-where near as exciting as the teddy. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  I grinned. “I could ask you the same thing.” I gestured to the room. “Playing happy families with Ella’s kid, huh? Nice one, sweetheart.” Her face was a goddamn mess, swollen lumps under each one, a pale yellow bruises across her entire left cheek. I almost cared. Almost.

  Marnie scoffed and stormed towards me. “Are you kidding me? Happy families? You think I want to be stuck down here with a brat that’s not mine?” her nostrils flared, and a vein in her head rose to the surface of her skin. It was crazy to think I thought she’d once been sexy as hell.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and smiled. “Wanna explain then?”