by York, Adora
I could barely move, but I knew I had to get my strength back. I looked over at the coffee table beside me and stared at the bullets Stefano had pulled out of my crudely stitched wounds. Judging by the size of them, I was damn lucky that I wasn’t conscious enough to feel them being extracted. He had sewn me up with quick, jagged stitches, but they would do the trick. A syringe and a bottle of pain medication were nearby, so I assumed the weak feeling was a mixture of drugs and my loss of blood. I was thankful for Stefano, and I knew I would need his help if I was going to save Angela from Don Abrami. I had no idea where he took her; I just hoped she was still alive. I turned on the television to see if there was any news, flipping through the channels until I saw a press conference with District Attorney Madison who was lying in his hospital bed.
“Rest assured, citizens of this great city. The violence that was brought to our doorsteps today will not be tolerated. The street gang that calls itself the Eight-Ballers will be the primary target of my office going forward, and I will not rest until New York City is safe.” He struggled to draw breath and then the camera cut to a reporter, a brown haired woman in her thirties that I had seen on the news fairly often.
“Strong words from District Attorney Madison. Angela Madison, who was on the courthouse steps with her father when this tragedy occurred, is still missing. If you have any information…” Before she could finish, Stefano walked into the room and I muted the television.
“Anything?” I asked.
“Something is going down right now. I talked with Nunzio and a few guys I know I can trust. They said that Don Abrami is meeting with some of our business partners. Quite a few big wigs are in town, including the Indonesians.” He sat down on the couch beside me and stared at the television.
“Don Abrami doesn’t want anyone to know what he is doing. He didn’t even have his personal detail with him when he was at my father’s house.” I said with a sigh.
“When this comes out, the alliance between the Five Families will fall apart.” Stefano looked over at me.
“The alliance was built on lies.” I shook my head. “We all believed he was a good man.”
Stefano looked down at his phone, which vibrated in his hand. He answered it and walked out of the room again. I let my head fall to the side, resting it on the side of the couch. Undoing what we had spent five years building was going to leave our world in shambles, but I couldn’t live with the alternative. I would have rather fought an honest fight against the other Families than an imaginary enemy created by Don Abrami. I couldn’t believe had tricked everyone and used the Eight-Ballers as pawns. I wondered just how high the corruption went in their infrastructure. Their leaders were basically sending their own people to die at our hands just to keep the war going. Don Abrami had to be paying them well to keep the charade going, but that kind of lost revenue would have been noticeable. We laundered money, but we knew where it all went. Every dollar had to be accounted for, which meant he had to have another way to pay them.
“That was Nunzio; he said that there is some activity at one of our warehouses outside the city. Some of the guys think the investors might be meeting with Don Abrami there.” He put his hands on his hips.
“Did you tell him anything?” I asked.
“No, I just told him I was checking in on things before I made my rounds tonight. Do you think you can travel?” Stefano looked down at me.
“Yeah…” I nodded and tried to stand up, but collapsed back onto the couch. “Fuck…”
“The pain medication is probably starting to wear off. Let me give you another shot.” He picked up the syringe.
“No.” I shook my head. “I can do this.” I struggled with my own footing, but managed to get myself on my own two feet after a couple of attempts.
“Let’s go.” Stefano handed me my gun and I tucked it into the back of my pants.
“What is that warehouse used for anyway?” I stumbled and walked slowly behind him.
“I don’t know exactly. I think it is one of the ones used to we rent out to that Indonesian freight company. Back in the glory days we used it to store guns and drugs.” He opened the passenger door on his car and I slid inside.
“Shit, Stefano. I’m sorry about all the blood.” His seats were covered.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send you the bill when I get it cleaned.” Stefano smiled and cranked up his car.
“You do that…” I leaned my head against the window. Every bump that we hit sent shooting pain through my body.
I said a silent prayer and vowed to find Angela. Everything that was happening to her was my fault, and I had to set things right. I wondered what kind of obstacles we would face at the warehouse. I wasn’t in fighting shape, so I would have to rely on Stefano. I hoped his rage over finding out what really happened to his sister was enough to give him the strength we needed and the heart to assassinate the head of our Family. It was treason and it meant death, regardless of the circumstances. We would have to make sure he went in a grave nobody could find and hope what Don Abrami was doing with the Eight-Ballers was so taboo he hadn’t dared to tell anyone else. We could clean them up once he was gone and permanently sever their ties with our Family, but that would have to come later. My only focus was finding Angela and making sure she was safe.
Chapter 17: Angela
Somehow, I managed to sleep a little bit throughout what I perceived as night. Every creak woke me up, but when I confirmed there were no footsteps, I drifted away again. Trying to stay awake for the sake of avoiding sleep was pointless. I was no longer in control of my own fate. When I couldn’t sleep any longer, I lay awake in the darkness and let my thoughts get away from me. I tried to come to terms with what the rest of my life would hold, as impossible as it seemed. I envisioned myself withstanding the torture, never screaming, and never letting the Indonesian get satisfaction out of his purchase. I knew that was silly—I wasn’t cut out for that kind of bravery. I don’t know if days passed or hours, but I heard footsteps approaching. The door opened and the light came on. It nearly blinded me after being in the darkness so long.
“Today is your lucky day, Ms. Madison.” Don Abrami grinned and then the Indonesian man entered the room. “You get to see your family again.”
“My family?” I muttered as the Indonesian’s strong hands lifted me.
“Yes. Don’t you want to see them? Your father is being released from the hospital today.” Don Abrami pulled out a knife and sliced the zip ties holding my wrists and ankles.
“You’re letting me go?” I asked cautiously.
“Come with me.” Don Abrami unfastened the lock on my collar and the Indonesian started walking me towards the door.
I was taken from the warehouse as quickly as I was brought into it. The car that was waiting on me was different from the one that had brought me to my temporary prison. It was a black sedan with dark tinted windows; I was sure they were way too dark for regulation. The Indonesian opened the back door and did a slight bow as he invited me to climb inside. I looked at him apprehensively because everything about him sent a sinister chill through my spine. I felt a push from behind from Don Abrami and I finally ducked under the top and sat down. The door was slammed and then I realized I was in another prison. There were no handles on the inside of the back door, and the front seat was separated from the back by perforated glass. The Indonesian climbed into the driver’s seat and Don Abrami climbed into the back.
“My man says we’ve got about an hour before he’s released from the hospital.” Don Abrami said as we started to drive.
“Perfect.” The Indonesian lit a cigarette and cracked the window as we drove down a long dirt road.
“You’re really taking me to my father?” I pressed my face to the glass.
“Shut up!” Don Abrami barked and slammed his fist into the glass which was hard enough to bounce it against my face.
I slumped in the back seat and held my hand over the tender spot on my cheekbone. We didn’t
have to drive far before I saw the city appear on the horizon. It was a sight I never thought I would see again. I decided that trying to talk to my captors was not going to work, so I just leaned my head against the glass on the door and watched as we got closer. I didn’t trust either man, so I doubted they actually intended to let me go. My eyes traced the perimeter of the glass separating the front seat from the back. When Don Abrami’s hand slammed into it, he had caused it to bend slightly at the four points where it was bolted. With enough time and a crowbar, I could probably pry it open, but I certainly couldn’t do that with them sitting in the front seat. My hands felt around in the seats, and I cautiously bent down to feel around underneath the seats, but I didn’t find anything useful.
“We’re almost there.” The Indonesian said cheerfully.
“This will be a beautiful homecoming.” Don Abrami pointed the Indonesian towards a side street, and then guided him into an alley. “Turn in there.”
The car came to a rest in the alley which had a full view of the hospital. My eyes grew wide when I saw Danielle pacing around out front. A few seconds later, my mother joined her and they started to talk—they seemed to be arguing about something. Tears welled up in my eyes when I saw them. I had fully accepted the fact I would never see them again and looking at the two of them carrying on like they always did brought a rush of emotions. I wiped away a tear as one streamed down my cheek. My mother walked away with her cell phone pressed to her ear, and she appeared to be yelling at someone on the other end. I wondered if it had something to do with me. I looked from Don Abrami to the Indonesian, staying away from the glass as I spoke.
“Well, so are you going to let me go or not?” I asked them.
“Who said anything about letting you go?” The Indonesian asked in his thick accent. “We brought you to see your family. You see them, don’t you?”
“You’re sick…” I shook my head back and forth.
“I’m just trying to show you a little compassion.” The Indonesian looked back at me and smiled. “I thought you’d like to see them one last time and say goodbye. By the time tomorrow, you’ll be in Indonesia where you’ll spend the rest of your life.”
“Yeah, have some respect for your new owner, you little bitch.” Don Abrami slammed his hand into the glass again. It was loud, but my face wasn’t pressed against it that time so it did little more than bounce underneath the impact.
“Maybe I’ll remove her tongue first.” The Indonesian shook his head. “She can still scream without it.”
“That sounds like a marvelous idea.” Don Abrami nodded his head in agreement.
I felt my tongue recoil into the back of my throat and try to dive into my esophagus just hearing his threat. I couldn’t focus on it long because the doors of the hospital opened and my father appeared. He was paler than I remembered and being rolled out in a wheelchair. My mother ended her phone call and rushed to his side. Danielle took the wheelchair from the nurse and I saw his car drive up to the curb. He reached up and squeezed my mother’s hand. He said something to her and she replied with a solemn shake of her head which cause his face to contort into a mixture of rage and despair. In all of my years, I had never seen my father cry or break down. He quickly wiped a hand under each eye as my mother opened the door on his car and started to help him stand. Danielle walked around the wheelchair and took his other arm. Adrenaline shot through my body and I rolled back onto my shoulders, bringing my legs up over my head. I slammed both feet hard into the glass.
“What the fuck?” Don Abrami said as he turned his attention away from my family.
“That bitch is trying to break the glass.” The Indonesian said in a rage.
I started slamming my feet into the glass as fast and hard as I could, one after the other. It started to bend even more, the bolts barely keeping it in place. Don Abrami and The Indonesian both hopped out of the car. Don Abrami opened the door and it was all I needed. I rolled to the side and planted a foot in his sternum. The older man fell backwards and I scrambled out of the car. The Indonesian lunged for me, but I drove the car door into him and then started to run. My father was in the car and Danielle was walking around to the other side. I screamed out, but the traffic and the sounds of the city were too loud for them to hear me. I ran down the alley as fast as my feet could carry me, just trying to get out of the deserted area. I knew that if I could get to the road, I had a chance. Unfortunately, I didn’t make it. The car squealed beside me and the Indonesian opened his door into me. That sent me spinning and Don Abrami was around the car faster than a man his age should have moved. He grabbed me in his arm and snapped my wrists behind my back. I felt the tight plastic zip tie squeeze the circulation in them again.
“Maybe it will be your toes I take first.” The Indonesian slapped me so hard that I would have hit the ground if Don Abrami hadn’t been holding me.
“Do your tools?” Don Abrami asked.
“Yeah, they’re in the trunk.” He motioned towards the back of the car.
“Good. I think it is time you showed this little bitch was the rest of her life will be like.” Don Abrami roughly shoved me into the back of the car and slammed the door shut.
I watched from the backseat as my family drove away, completely unaware that we were so close to being reunited. I knew I would pay for my actions, but I had to try something. It was the only hope I had. We drove back towards the warehouse and I lay my head on the seat, fully aware of the pain that awaited me when we got there. I didn’t care anymore. My family wouldn’t stop looking for me, and I had to cling to that. I had to believe that my father would be able to find me eventually. I might suffer for years at the hands of a sadist, but the fact he needed me alive was the only hope I could cling to. If he didn’t, then death would eventually come and I would make my peace with God long before that happened. The car pulled up to the front of the warehouse and they dragged me from the vehicle. Don Abrami cut the zip tie and I tried to fight, but it was no use. He lifted my arms above me and zip tied them to a pipe which left me dangling with my toes barely touching the floor.
“Now…” He said with a smile. “Let’s see what Braden liked so much.” He tore my shirt open and then yanked my bra off of my breasts.
“She’s mine.” The Indonesian said as he wheeled a table beside me and unrolled a pocketed cloth filled with various instruments designed to cut and maim.
“Of course…” Don Abrami took a step back. “She’s paid for.”
The Indonesian walked over to me with a scalpel and I felt my knees go weak. He cut the rest of my clothes off of me, leaving me hanging naked in front of them. Shame seemed like a wasted emotion, but I couldn’t help but feel it as two men stared hungrily at my flesh. I knew Don Abrami was thinking about fucking me, but the Indonesian seemed more interested in where he should cut. He pulled the back of the scalpel down my jaw, across my lips, and then down my neck. I shivered from the feeling of the cold steel and I felt goose bumps rising up on my body. He walked over to his kit and replaced the scalpel, picking up a pair of pliers. He placed them against my inner thigh. He brought them up my leg, across my crotch, and then let them rest on my belly button. I whimpered when I felt it squeeze and twist the flesh surrounding my it.
“Please…” I begged. “Please don’t do this.” All of my bravery faded as his pliers dug into my skin.
“Ah.” The Indonesian smiled. “She’s going to be a lot of fun.”
“Please…” I stammered out as he twisted my flesh again.
Chapter 18: Braden
Stefano parked his car and we began our trek towards the warehouse on foot. Each step hurt, but I was beginning to feel a little bit of my strength returning. There was only one car outside and I didn’t recognize it as one of ours. Stefano pulled me behind a tree and we crouched down, surveying the scene. The warehouse was old and it definitely wasn’t one we used on a regular basis. Any warehouse that we used would have been crawling with members of the Family. Stefano used his cell
phone to take a picture of the license plate on the car and zoomed in on it. He flipped over to an app and started punching in the information. I was ready to go in guns blazing, but I needed Stefano’s support for that. He was much more methodical than I was, and liked to cover his bases.
“That car is registered to a member of the Indonesian Crime Syndicate.” Stefano stared at the information.
“We don’t do business with them!” I said angrily. “So the Indonesian freight company must be a front…” I shook my head back and forth.
“We used to have an arrangement with the Indonesian Crime Syndicate a long time ago. Their main source of income is human trafficking and drugs. There was a dark time in our history when we were willing to do anything for capital…” Stefano zoomed in on the warehouse with his phone, scanning it for activity.
“Don Abrami doesn’t seem to care who he does business with, as long as he gets what he wants. There is only one car which means there can’t be many people inside.” I pushed myself away from the tree.
“Braden, we don’t know what we’re walking into. Maybe we should wait and gather some intel before we rush into this. Don Abrami’s car isn’t even here.” He scanned the horizon.
“The less people we have to deal with, the better. Angela may be inside.” I started walking towards the warehouse.
“If she isn’t, we’re going to have to kill people who have nothing to do with this in order to make sure nobody knows we were here.” Stefano followed behind me.
“I don’t have any problem killing members of the Indonesian Crime Syndicate.” I said angrily as we got to the side door and gently slid it open.
We weaved our way through the maze of boxes and crates after we were inside. Most of them looked to be empty, or full of goods that were no longer moving very well on the open market. It was the kind of stuff people who ran drugs loved to smuggle it in. I could hear voices as we got towards the center of the warehouse, but I didn’t recognize them. They were muffled by the boxes between us. Stefano pointed at his eyes and then pointed ahead. I saw a crack between two stacks of boxes and we moved as quietly as we could towards it. When I peered through them, rage ignited within me. Angela was naked, with her hands tied over her. A man I didn’t recognize had pliers, twisting her flesh. Don Abrami was looking at her with a smile on his face. I saw nothing but red as I jumped up, knocking over a stack of boxes in the process. Stefano tried to stop me, but I was coursing with adrenaline and the pain had evaporated.
