by Dani René
After years in captivity by her new owners, Isabella was finally rescued. It was my father, head of Mr. Giordano’s security, that was the one who found her in Australia. She was beyond damaged. Between the abuse and drugs she had become addicted to, it took a long time for her mind to properly operate.
The Giordano family was horrified once they learned Isabella had birthed a child while in captivity…
With the news of her mother still being alive, I knew Scarlett was going to faint before she did. Since she was significantly underweight, I easily caught her limp body, then held her in a cradle of affection and respect, no matter her present condition. “Sal, your jacket.” I wanted her naked body covered.
“Angelo,” warned my comrade in Italian. “Do not fuck this up by showing anything other than the disregard any man buying a damaged woman would have.” He pointed to her wrist. “I must leave her tied to show lack of respect.”
My nostrils flared as my eyes slid shut in frustration. Italian women in my life were held so high. Now, I had to treat one as if she were simply a piece of meat from the local butchers.
Fighting my disgust, I gave a quick nod.
Sal quietly added, “Removing her while unconscious may be kind. Who knows if she is friends with any of those pour souls up there?”
No matter how many trafficking establishments we had visited over the years, secretly looking for Scarlett while under the ruse I was searching for a woman who was of a certain nature, we saw the condition sex slaves had been living in ran from foul to ghastly. Some places ‘turn and burn’ their product. Others use and torture because it’s not only about money for them. They seem to truly find pleasure in the torment and process of breaking down the human spirit.
Sal and I had to leave some of the victims to suffer and be sold. If we had revealed their whereabouts to authorities, it wouldn’t have been long before Sal and I would no longer be invited to future establishments out of suspicion alone. We couldn’t afford any circumstances that could be associated with us. So, we left behind a false trail as the only clue about when another mission was unsuccessful. We also continued to spread the word of what we were looking for—a woman who had been raised in captivity and was not worldly.
Once to the States, we caught word of a certain group of men having an ‘animal’ tied up in the basement. With enough money offered, we were able to make contact.
In the basement, I shivered, thinking about what we saw when arriving. I growled, “What that boy was doing to that young woman—”
Sal held up a hand, begging me to stop. “With a toy train? I will never be the same.”
The boy had been evil reincarnated. Never had I seen such cruelty in such a young person. The young woman being tortured was forcibly being held down by men that were weak-minded and controlled by drugs, egos, and unhealthy desires. The seven men in charge were undisciplined animals with no trainer. Weapons and cocaine had been lying about on tables and counters as proof.
Apparently, the young woman being molested had a friend. The friend was an older boy, barely older than the abuser, and was screaming for everyone to leave her alone. The pain on his face as he fought his chain, trying to reach her, was beyond horrific.
Positive Scarlett had experienced such terror while in the hands of the despicable, I gave one quick, adoring glance to her before becoming the man that must appear as one with the low morals as to purchase a woman. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. Now holding her, my obsession multiplied. “Sal, lift her arms, please.”
Sal whispered to our unconscious princess, “Perdonami,”—forgive me—then lifted her arms as I moved her body to crudely hang over my shoulder. When her bare ass laid exposed at my chest, Sal quickly diverted his eyes away.
Grateful for his discretion and his sound advice to protect Scarlett, I faced the door. “Transfer the money.” I had only been in the basement with dim lighting for mere moments and already desired the sun. How pale Scarlett was, I was certain she hadn’t experienced the sun in years.
Sal raced his fingers over his satellite phone, then said, “Done.”
We waited for the transaction to hit our enemies’ account. Could we have flown in support from Italy to kill all involved? Yes, but that was never the plan. Retribution would take place after our Giordano treasure was safe. Handing over a million dollars for her recovery was never an amount to dispute. We were given limitless reserves.
In the basement, one by one, Sal pulled each of his guns from under his suit jacket and double-checked them in case our arrangement was not to be honored. Balancing Scarlett on my right shoulder, I did the same to my own guns. We were both prepared to die to rescue the woman in our care. We were, and had been, that committed. It was imperative we succeed. I had a desperate mother waiting to hold the girl she hadn’t seen for almost two decades.
Once an ample amount of time passed, I head-gestured for Sal to open the door and lead the way. As soon as the old wooden door was opened, we could hear cheering from upstairs. I assumed they had already been alerted to the purchase price now in the appointed bank account. But I was wrong.
Young bodies were huddled in dark corners of the small living room, all tied to furniture or hooks bolted to the walls. The curtains were drawn, and the odor was offensive. Buckets with feces were an indication the sex slaves were not taken to the bathroom often.
The seven crude men were now all on their feet, huddled, pointing, and laughing in the dirty kitchen. I didn’t want to trail past them with Scarlett so exposed, nor through the kitchen because that is where the teenage girl had been chained to a stove, but I had to in order to reach the front door. The young woman was now sitting against the wall, her young friend sitting between her naked legs while facing the men. He had ripped his confinement from the wall and ran to the girl, his blue eyes spilling hatred. By his bleeding mouth and face, I knew he had just received quite a beating for his misbehavior, but he was still determined to protect his female friend.
She was crying, holding him back, telling the men, “He’ll stop! Please! No more! I will make him stop!” The young man only had on jeans and had cigarette burns, old and new, on his chest.
Sitting next to the both of them, totally unfocused on anyone or anything but his train, was the boy. He had a bloody lip himself but still seemed unfazed. He just kept licking the toy as if it were merely an ice-cream cone.
My stomach turned as I fought a cringe at the sight, and said, “Men, the money has been transferred.”
They turned to face me, all smiles and talking at the same time.
“Oh, you liked you some Scar, eh?”
“That pussy used to be so tight.”
“Her ass still is!”
“And that tongue, I sure will miss that mouth.”
As I took a step forward while reaching for my gun, Sal stepped in front of me again. “My boss has a plane to catch. Could you please confirm you have received payment so we may be on our way?”
One of the older crude men grumbled, “Rich people talk funny.”
Another man boasted at his satellite phone, “Damn that bank account is fat!”
Sal gestured for me to start walking toward the door while thanking the men. “My boss will be sure to highly recommend you to certain acquaintances.”
Walking past them, Sal following, I thought we had succeeded, but Scarlett woke up. Groggily, her head lifted from my back. “Seth?” Then her body jolted, her hands pushing against my back to see. “Seth! No! Drop the train!” She spoke to the young demented boy as if she knew him well. I was quite confused. That is why I didn’t have good enough sense to stop Scarlett when she dropped from my shoulder.
Sal was as baffled as I. We simply couldn’t comprehend the worry in Scarlett’s voice when it came to the most horrid child we had ever encountered. He literally made us shake, positive he was the spawn of the devil.
That’s how she easily got past us both to run back toward the boy she kept calling Seth. The menacing child didn’t
react to her, just kept licking his toy.
The men all started laughing. One even said, “He’s staying with us, Scar.”
Slightly recovering, I rushed toward her. She was already kneeling on the ground in front of the boy, trying to take the toy from him as if it were deadly, but her tied hands made it difficult. As soon as she saw me coming, she pleaded, “He must come with us—”
The way she was talking to me was far too revealing of who I truly was, so I did all I could to not to risk this rescue. I smacked her across the face so hard she flew into the two huddled teenagers. Her tied hands made it impossible to catch herself.
More laughter roared from the men behind me. Taking advantage of the distraction, I bent over to collect a dazed and confused Scarlett, hoping she would someday forgive me.
The teenage girl with haunting grey eyes somehow recognized my remorse. It was as if she could read my mind. When I scooped up Scarlett, the grey-eyed girl whispered, “Steel Stallions.”
I had no idea what that meant, nor did I dare ask. The Giordano in my arms was my priority.
It’s possible that my infatuation with Scarlett started turning into a love of sorts at that very moment because, as I lifted her from the ground, her hand caressed the young woman, and she whispered, “Found. You will be found.” Her sincerity, like her eyes, spoke to my soul.
As the men’s laughter finally settled, I thanked them for their fine ‘slave’ and walked out of the dirtiest and most heartbreaking of all the places I was forced to visit.
In my arms, with her hands still tied, Scarlett shielded her eyes from the sunlight. Sal and I squinted, but refused to slow our brisk walk toward the blue Mercedes. Sal opened the back door and quickly shut it as soon as I sat with Scarlett, firm in my embrace. I didn’t seem to possess the will to release her. As Sal rushed around the back of the car, I whispered, “I am so sorry to have struck you.”
Reacting as if being hit was something she was completely accustomed to, she explained, “Punishments come when I misbehave.”
Sal had no sooner opened the driver’s door before he was in and starting the engine.
Eyes still covered due to discomfort, Scarlett jumped. “W-What is that?”
Confused, I blinked. “Just the engine.”
“What is a ‘engine’?”
Scarlett not knowing the correct way to say ‘an engine’ was a telling sign of her lack of education. Her not even knowing what one was, was a cold reminder of where we just stole her from.
Sal had tires spinning and us racing down the long dirt driveway. Scarlett, blinded by the light, had arms flailing at the movement. “What is happening?” Her eyes watered as she tried to force them open.
Driving at a high speed, Sal told me, “Angelo, I do not think she has ever been in a car.”
With considerable strength, I pulled Scarlett close to my chest, shielding her face in the crook of my neck. “Shh. Rest your eyes.”
Her alarmed breathing hit my skin, but Scarlett did lean into me, accepting the shelter for her sensitive eyes. “They burn.”
I leaned my head to hers to offer more shelter and comfort. “They will adjust.”
“Adjust?”
Sadness pelted my heart. English was my second language, yet I knew more than this poor soul who was, technically, American. “With patience, your eyes will get used to the beautiful sun.”
“When I was a child, I loved the sun. It didn’t hurt me then.”
“It will stop hurting you again. I promise.”
She sighed, her weight melting into me even more until Sal took a sharp turn out of the driveway. Scarlett’s tied hands flew out as if to catch herself. There was no denying how she moved them in unison, which told me they had been bound together for a very long time.
Pulling her scarred hands to my chest, I promised, “I won’t let you fall. You are safe.” Then I growled to Sal, “I want the ropes off her.”
“I want us far from the hell hole.”
After she settled some, and there was a moment of silence except for the roaring engine, Scarlett said, “Seth is my son.”
Sal’s eyes raced to mine in the rearview mirror. Then he grumbled, “There is no soul in her son.”
With regret, because Sal was speaking the truth, I nodded but got distracted when noticing Scarlett grabbing her stomach. I tried to divert her attention. “Have you ever seen the mountains you have lived in?” Hidden in my neck still, she nodded. “Someday you will get the chance to see them like a bird can.”
She gasped with an innocence that was heartbreaking coming from a woman in her twenties. “In the air?”
“Yes. We can fly. Almost like them.”
“I’m scared. I don’t know how to fly.”
Finally off the human trafficker’s property, Sal raced down another dirt road. The only home Scarlett had ever known was buried deep in the Idaho mountains, hours from civilization. I craved concrete—any sign that we were getting her farther away from a place that was tragic and brutal.
I had been hired due to the hunting skills my father taught me and a promise I made long ago. I was hired because I am ruthless and very willing to kill, not because I possess much humanity anymore. Men I had murdered in the past had deserved the ill treatment I brought them. Young children and women in captivity? Only their ignorance and innocence were their enemy. Not me. So, I did my best to stay patient for Scarlett. “Just as Sal is driving this car, another man will fly our plane.”
“Angel—”
The roads became winding, quickly proving to be too much for a sensitive stomach. Scarlett began to get sick, but had nothing to purge except for water. There was not a hint of food dripping from the side of our seat after I helped her sit up.
Weakly, she apologized as she leaned back into my chest, eyes still closed.
So worried about her future for so many reasons, I told her, “It’s fine. No need to be sorry.”
Tiredly, she moaned, “I want my son.”
I grabbed an extra jacket I saw on the seat next to me and laid it over her. “I know. Get some rest now.”
Her long sigh at the coverage was full of relief. “That feels so warm. Just like you.” Her weight sunk into me. “So long since I have been warm, Angel.”
Scarlett must have been exhausted from the ordeal. Her breathing changed within seconds, and she fell fast asleep.
Holding the Giordano treasure, there were so many calls I wanted to make. The first one to her mother; Isabella. But, that wasn’t possible. The house we had just stolen Scarlett from wasn’t the only house that carried danger for her.
That’s why, even though we wanted to, we couldn’t take her back to our home country yet. We had to hide away this Giordano royalty until it was safe.
In a small town in Idaho, Sal and I—and Mr. Giordano’s money—rented a grand, four-bedroom, pristine house on the side of the mountain with incredible views. It was a fair distance from town—best for someone who was overwhelmed by almost everything she laid her eyes upon or heard.
As of that morning, refrigerators were being fully stocked. Now that we had Scarlett, those same extra services would soon be getting clothing for her.
By the time we arrived, it was dark and the temperature was falling. Lights were on inside the house, offering warmth and a beautiful home to slowly expose the world to Scarlett.
Opening the rear passenger door, Sal offered to carry sleeping Scarlett. I still didn’t want to release her, but my legs had fallen asleep and I needed to stretch them.
Of course, she woke with alarm, not understanding where or who she was with. Sal assured her, “I will bring you no harm,” but she insisted on being put down.
As soon as her bare feet touched the ground, she struggled with the little rocks as if they were strange to the bottom of her soles. Wobbling, and lifting one leg as if not sure what to do, Sal offered her a hand. She was most hesitant but so unstable, she finally accepted, quietly explaining, “The ground… I think it hurt
s my feet.”
“May I pick you up?” Sal’s one hand dwarfed both her tied ones as she nervously peered around until seeing me walking toward her.
With stiff shoulders, her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know the right answers.”
I picked up the jacket that had fallen to the ground and rested it over her frightened shoulders. “Do you know what instincts are?”
Her stare shot to a sound in the surrounding woods, but she finally nodded. “Belly feelings that Mother said I should follow.”
“That’s absolutely correct.” I gestured to Sal, who was still holding her hands. “Does your belly say he is bad?”
Scarlett, still balancing on one foot, eyed him. A moment later, she shook her head in frustration. “I don’t know what is bad or good, but I know what hurts.”
I fought the cringe crawling up my spine. “Do you believe Sal will hurt you?”
After another tense pause, she cried out, “I don’t know!” while switching her wobbly feet to give one a break on the uncomfortable stones.
Working hard to stay calm, I asked, “Scarlett, may I carry you again?”
Utterly overwhelmed, she nodded while bursting into tears. “I hurt,” she banged on her chest, “but no one is hurting me!”
I scooped her up, “That is your heart hurting, sweet woman. That is a pain deep inside,” and carried her inside.
It was soul-damaging to remove her ropes for the first time. Where she hadn’t scarred over on her wrists, the skin had fused with the rope. She whimpered after Sal and I soaked her skin for the easiest removal possible. There was no way to involve a doctor. This woman technically didn’t exist, paperwork-wise. If anyone learned of her, getting her back to Italy would be impossible.
Once she was bandaged up, we offered her food, but she refused. She only wanted a plastic cup of water.
Standing in her bedroom, Sal and I watched her. She looked so uncomfortable sitting in her plush bed, wearing one of Sal’s undershirts that drowned her. Her haunted eyes scanned the room as if everything were alive and deadly. Then she found something she recognized.
