by Alex Gates
Senator Grant Harding wasn’t holding this event for Baby Hope.
He was providing his most loyal supporters and biggest donors the opportunity to abuse, molest, and rape underaged girls. Girls without a future, without a home, without anyone to rescue them from the depravity and sickness that had become their everyday life.
I needed help. Who could I call? Who did I trust enough in the department to assist me in this?
The answer was clear—no one.
If they’d nearly killed me for asking too many questions about Amber Reynolds, they wouldn’t stop until I was dead now that I understood everything.
Worse…they’d kill the teenagers.
Four girls entered that elevator—dressed in fetish gear and lingerie which promised a night of torture and pain. The doors closed, and Patricia’s guard hauled Hannah from the floor. She staggered to her feet. The man shoved her forward. They disappeared through the metal doors.
I had to save Hannah.
But if I left the other four girls…I damned them to a night of pain and torment.
It wasn’t fair. Not to them. Not to me. But I seized a steadying breath and focused.
Hannah first. Her life was in danger. I couldn’t let them kill her.
But I needed backup. I gritted my teeth, taking one hell of a risk. I texted Riley and Falconi.
William Pitt Hotel. Grayson girls here. Need help. Come alone.
This ended tonight.
I’d find a way to get them out of here before anyone else laid a hand on them.
I darted between cars and raced into the available shadows. The door shut behind Hannah and her captor. I gave it a few seconds before peeking inside and studying the interior hallway. The hotel branched after ten feet, signs on the ceiling directing staff between the hotel and restaurant sides.
The man searched inside, turning towards the hotel. He covered Hannah with the coat and forced her to walk. When she collapsed once more, he hauled her onto his shoulder and hurried down the hall.
Where was he taking her?
This wasn’t a skeevy hotel in a bad part of town. The William Pitt was one of Pittsburgh’s finest. Built only a few years ago, it now housed the city’s most formal and delicate of events—like Senator Harding’s benefit.
They must have staged his fundraiser in the ballroom. The PA system for the microphones patched into the audio feeds in the staff’s back rooms, kitchens, and storage facilities.
Senator Grant Harding’s indecently charming voice carried through the halls—a haunting specter of depravity that had fooled everyone in the nation.
“…And while we mourn the tragic, incomprehensible loss of a child so young, we cannot allow ourselves to believe that this baby is the only one born into such terrible circumstances…”
The man dragging Hannah slipped into an auxiliary kitchen for a secondary event room, unused and dark. Patricia’s order chilled me.
The needle then the river? They’d planned to overdose her. A body washed-up on the shores of the Ohio meant nothing if she was a teenaged drug-addict who’d absconded from her criminally mandated rehab. Hannah’s wouldn’t even be a suspicious death. She’d end up another sad statistic.
“Every day, babies are born in this very city in the same dire situations as Baby Hope, the products of teenage drug-addiction and insufficient education. Pittsburgh has made tremendous strides in the recent years—becoming a center for the arts, the culinary world, healthcare, higher education, and technology. But no matter our success, our first responsibility is to our children.”
I edged into the kitchen behind the man, keeping low while inching the door open. Industrial machinery, appliances, and counters bordered the room. I hid behind rows of stainless steel prepping tables and ranges that were buried under overflow storage. Extra tables and chairs were stacked along the wall, and flats of plates and glasses precariously balanced on the counters.
Enough cover to get close, but not enough of an opportunity to jump the attacker without injuring Hannah.
She struggled against his grip, but her leather suit bound her arms. She flailed, lunged to bite, fought until her body shone with sweat. A swift blow to her head knocked her to the floor. She shimmied to escape. He kicked her spine.
She went still.
“I’m calling for the city to reexamine what’s made Pittsburgh a city of prosperity, a city of survival.” Harding’s voice filled the kitchen, muffling Hannah’s cries. “A commitment to family values. A protection of those most vulnerable. A community-wide initiative to prevent these helpless teens from succumbing to crime and addiction.”
“A shame.” The man pulled the drugs from his pocket. He dumped the heroin into a metal container the size of a thimble and dripped some water from the sudsy sink into the mix. “I’m gonna miss my little kitten.”
“No!” Hannah wept into the gag. “Let me go!”
“What’s the matter?” He flicked his lighter, swirled the dish three times, and barely melted the mix. He dunked the needle straight in. No filter. Who cared? He meant to kill her anyway. “You used to love this junk.”
Hannah kicked, sobbed, begged. If he had a heart, it’d long since blackened. The man leered at her. His fingers trailed over the thick leather strapping over her chest. He aimed the needle.
“Always did like your tits.” He laughed. “Just relax. Enjoy the high.”
He aimed the syringe like a dagger and reared back.
I seized a chair stacked to my side and surged forward. He looked up as the metal legs slammed his temple, the feet tearing a line of flesh across his cheek. He fell, a thick grunt his only sound before smacking the ground.
Hannah screamed. She hobbled away as I dove over the man. I struck his face—three quick blows that did absolutely nothing against a brute of pure, solid muscle. He broke my hold with an elbow to my face. I fell, blocking his punch before flipping to my feet.
I raced for the chair. He grabbed it first, but I kicked it. The chair slid away. His balance teetered, and I took the shot. His shoulders naturally lowered as he regained his steps. I didn’t let him move. I lunged, digging my nails behind his neck and bending him hard at the waist.
I used his own momentum to slam my knee against his forehead.
That blow would have knocked out any other man.
It only angered this beast.
I dodged his punch, but I didn’t have the strength to block the second. The blow clipped my chin. The second hit followed my spin, slamming into my kidney.
My knees crashed against the floor first, but I braced for an impact, closer than ever for a final incapacitating punch to his groin.
But he didn’t aim for me.
With a growl, he leapt over Hannah.
I shouted, but the needle moved too quick, slamming down against her thigh. He plunged the entirety of the syringe into her skin.
The girl’s terrified scream abruptly silenced.
“Hannah!”
I rose, but I was too slow. The monster turned, elbowed my ear, and seized my hair before I had a chance to recover. He dragged me across the kitchen. I wasn’t done yet. I stomped his feet. Grabbed his hands. Pulled my elbows in.
But the pain in my kidneys blurred my vision. I coughed. Helpless. Aching and gasping and unable to complete the full turn that would have pinned his hands and forced him to release me before the move broke his wrist.
The monster slammed my stomach against the sink. I stared into a metal basin filled with cold, dirty water and dishes.
I didn’t have time to scream before he shoved my head beneath the water.
24
“You don’t give up for anything do you?
So fight. Fight me. Prove you deserve to live.”
-Him
I was slammed into the water before I could panic.
No plan. No time to think.
I’d gasped one quick, unsatisfying breath before the water surged over my face.
The seconds passed in limi
ted, finite heartbeats. His grip tightened. He stuffed me deeper into the sink, until my cheek smashed against a stack of plates under the surface. My eyes, ears, nose filled with bits of soggy, half-eaten food and the greasy remains of sauces and suds.
Not like this.
I flailed, but I couldn’t fight. He’d pitched my body at an awkward angle. My feet dangled off the ground, and my stomach heaved against the counter. Any breath I’d saved was pinned, squeezed from my lungs.
I tore at his hands. Kicked. Shifted my shoulders. The pain of his punches faded in a blistering surge of panic, adrenaline, and absolute, conquering dread.
He’d kill me.
Force my head deeper into a cold, disgusting sink until I floated just as lifelessly as the sprigs of parsley, chunks of bread, and ravaged bits of overcooked meat.
His grip tightened the harder I struggled. Thrashed. Expelled too much energy trying to free myself.
I had no escape.
Not from his grip. Not from the sink.
Not from the horror of what would happen once I’d sucked in my first lungful of water and let it burn its way through my lungs and into my blood.
I’d die in helpless, unrelenting pain, left to stiffen next to Hannah as the poison rotted through her veins.
And upstairs?
Four girls were bound in terror, raped and abused, with no hope of help or salvation.
How many unanswered prayers would they whisper until they received the same merciless death?
I fought, but it wasted my strength. I couldn’t beat him. Even without the water churning around my face, I couldn’t overpower this man. His fist curled in my hair, and the pain rivaled the screaming of my tortured lungs.
I was going to die.
Unless…
Unless he thought I was already dead?
I had no idea how much oxygen I had left, but it wasn’t nearly enough to convince my body that this was a good idea. The only thing stronger than my attacker was my instinct to fight, but I couldn’t survive if I kept battering the counter. I had to get the hell out of the water. I had to get him off of me.
I had to make him think he’d won.
I’d watched the water slowly surge over my head once before. How was this any different?
I didn’t have James with me.
That pain was worse than any blow, any kick, any sting of water.
I concentrated, jerked my limbs three final times, and went limp.
His hand didn’t release me, but I stayed flexible, denying every urge to jolt backwards. Another second passed. Then a third.
My heart raced, every beat more painful than the last.
Were my eyes closed, or was the water becoming that dark?
I counted in my head, the panic mounting as each second drew me closer to a horrifying abyss. Drowning would hurt. Daggers through lungs and an inferno through the heart.
Ten seconds.
Fifteen seconds.
I couldn’t fake it much longer. Fear seized me. My chest ached for something, anything, even the smallest inhalation would make the pain stop—
His grip released with one last shove of my head.
His arms untangled from mine.
I imagined he’d turned.
And I lunched upwards, sucking in a mouthful of air with a greedy gasp and cough. My hand already swung, pawing first through the water to grab the glass pitcher drying on the rack.
“The fuck—”
The glass shattered against his temple, slamming against the wound I’d struck with the chair. Shards of the pitcher fell, scattering over his face, his hands. Blood immediately streaked his cheeks, and he reached for his eyes.
His groin was undefended. I used every ounce of my depleted strength to kick.
That did it.
He sprawled backwards, crashing to the floor. I dove, pinning his chest. He aimed for my throat, but I gouged his eye, slicing the soft membrane against the bit of glass trapped under his lashes. He screamed.
I left my pity in the sink.
I slammed his head against the tile floor. One strike. Two.
He fell limp.
But I had the good sense to knock it again and ensure he was really out. A puddle of blood spread behind him, but he still breathed. Good enough for me.
I clamored off his body and dragged myself to Hannah.
Her gasping breaths rivaled my own. She trembled, cold and clammy, but she stared at me. Her lips moved, but her words were lost in shallow sputters.
“London…”
I took her hand. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t feel good.”
“I know.” God, did I know. “Listen to me. We gotta get out of here. I have to move you.”
“I’m sorry…” Her head lolled. “I fought. I didn’t want it. I couldn’t stop the heroin.”
My heart broke. Death was nothing to an addict. A relapse was the true hell.
“It’s not your fault,” I whispered.
Her tears fell. “Took so long to get over it.”
My stomach pitted. “I promise. I’ll help you. We’re gonna get you out of here.”
“It’s…so nice…” She wept. “Just wanted…healthy.”
Her eyes closed. I gently slapped her cheek, keeping a wary eye on the brute unconscious next to me. “Hannah, I’m here to rescue you. You’re coming with me.”
Her face paled, but she wasn’t out yet. He must have missed the vein. Less of the junk to poison her.
But God only knew what they’d used to cut the heroine or where the needle came from. She needed to get to a hospital before it killed her.
“Gotta help the others.” Hannah slurred as I lifted her. She couldn’t walk, but I could fireman carry her out.
Maybe.
My own body ached. Head hurt. Side cramped.
“I’m not going to forget about them.”
I counted to three and hauled her over my back. The girl weighed nothing anymore.
What had they done to her?
“Made us…whores.” Hannah tried to help. Failed. Her teeth chattered. “Had sex with so many…”
“They won’t hurt you anymore.”
“My friends…”
“They won’t be touched.”
Her words turned breathless, mumbled. “Geralt…he likes leather…”
My stomach turned.
Christ, what had they been doing to these girls? How long had they been molested?
Hannah had tried to tell me so long ago. I should have listened. Shouldn’t have left until I was sure she’d be safe.
This was my fault.
And I wouldn’t rest until I made it right.
I took slow steps, cautious in the hall as I rounded the corner. I didn’t trust the garage, not without backup. I pulled my phone, leaning half against the wall so I wouldn’t drop Hannah. Riley picked up on the first ring.
“Need a ride,” I hissed. “Are you here?”
“What the hell is going on?” Riley asked. “Where are you?”
“Garage. Employee side.”
“Give us one minute.”
I didn’t have a minute. I lowered the phone as the hotel’s lights flickered. Then, every emergency light blasted on. The alarm was next—a shrill, annoying sound coupled with flashing strobes and a chiming voice.
Another fire?
How many people would these monsters hurt if they thought they were in danger?
I couldn’t afford to find out. I shoved the phone into my pocket and kicked open the garage door. The black Escalade was gone, but a white Crown Vic sped to the entrance, undercover light flashing on the dash.
Falconi leapt out of the passenger seat and helped carry Hannah.
“She needs a hospital,” I said. “You two, take her, but don’t give her name. Stay with her, don’t you dare leave her side. If they think she’s alive, they’ll kill her.”
I raced to the door. Riley caught me before I made it inside. “Where the hell are you going? What ha
ppened to you?”
I pushed my wet, filthy hair from my face. “It’s Senator Harding. He’s the one who requests the girls. They’re whoring them at his parties and fundraisers in buildings owned by Charles Geralt. There’s four girls upstairs in the penthouse held captive. I gotta go get them.”
“Stop.” Riley shook me. My teeth rattled, but I went still. “Call just came in over the radio. The hotel is being evacuated.”
“What? Why?”
“A bomb threat against the senator. Everyone’s clearing out, bomb squad’s gotta do a check over the entire building.”
“But…” I stared at the door. “But the girls.”
“Trust me, they’re leaving too. That squad won’t miss a IED or a half-naked fifteen-year-old.”
Falconi tried to help as he gently laid Hannah across the back seat. “They’re probably already gone, London.”
“No.” I stared at the space where the Escalade had once parked. “Oh God. No, no, no.”
Riley swore. “What?”
“They’re gone. They took the girls.”
I knelt—my injuries, the lack of oxygen, the panic overwhelming me. Riley held my shoulder. I forced the bile down. My mind spun with dwindling options.
“Take Hannah to the hospital,” I said. “She’s my witness. She’ll testify.”
“What are you going to do?” Falconi asked.
“Find a judge. Get a warrant. Stop them.”
“You really think you can arrest Senator Harding for soliciting a minor?”
“No. Attempted murder.” I shakily stood, bolting to my car. “If they think that I know the truth…they’re going to kill the girls!”
25
“You are alone.”
-Him
It was midnight when I parked in front of Chief Paul Graziani’s home. Not the greatest way to ingratiate myself to my highest-ranking boss.
I left my car running and sprinted to his door. My knocking echoed against the night, cloudless and pitch black. Every straining second tore through my body. I pounded harder, louder, just praying he’d answer the door and not suspect a robbery and call for backup.
