by Sasha Leone
“This is far enough,” I tell Aldar when the streets become empty enough that any adept driver would easily be able to tell that he was being tailed.
We pull off onto a side street just as the white limo stops at a red light ahead. Aldar stops and I’m immediately at the trunk.
Inside is an old friend.
My bike. It’s still bloodstained and caked in mud and guts, but it only seems fitting to bring it around for one last go.
I hope on and Aldar and I share one last look. “Good luck, boss.”
“Be ready.”
We both nod and then I’m off.
The warm humid wind picks up as I speed forward down an alleyway that runs parallel to the main street the limo drives down. The weather’s been eerily still over the past few days; if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the worst was over with—but I know that’s not anywhere close to the truth. The worst is still to come; I just have to make sure that the cards fall on my side when everything comes tumbling down in the hurricane.
A few blocks later, the limo makes a slow turn down a tight street. I immediately know where it’s headed. Through the slits of the alleyways, I can see a warehouse that looks like it’s been outfitted into a luxurious nightclub. That’s so fucking Dante’s style that it makes me angry we didn’t find it sooner. The all black building stands out like a sore thumb amidst the red and green storerooms. If only we’d had air-reconnaissance, then there would have been no doubt where my little brother was ‘laying low’.
It looks like a personal den of hedonism; the closer I approach, the louder the thumping bass coming from inside becomes.
A devastating snarl forms on my lips as I park my bike behind an overflowing dumpster. That bastard is keeping my son in that building; he’s blasting that awful music at full volume while my little boy’s fragile ears are at stake.
He’s going to fucking pay.
But first, I need to find a way in.
Luckily, fire-escapes abound down here, and I’ve already pulled myself up on the nearest one when I see the white limo pull up out back of the makeshift nightclub. There’s no doubt about it now. This is where Dante is, and it’s where Oscar should be, too.
A more violent wind greets me on the roof of the nightclub’s neighbouring warehouse. The gusts blow back my messy hair and accosts my eyes as I try to spot a way into the building ahead.
Through the stained-glass windows, I can see the silhouettes of heavily armed guards. They patrol in groups of two, at steady intervals. Every minute or so, the white light inside starts to strobe and I swear I can hear cheering coming from inside. This is no place for a baby...
It doesn’t take long for me to spot a way in. One of the windows on the third floor is cracked just enough to see through. A pair of guards, each armed to the teeth, stroll by, oblivious to what’s coming for them.
The next time they disappear around the corner, I make my move. There’s a good ten-foot gap between my roof and their fire-escape, but even through my soreness, I’m able to make it without rattling the bars too much.
Now, I can hear the two guards chatting away inside. My attack is put on hold as I listen for any useful information, but they don’t know shit. They blabber on about girls they’ve fucked and men they’ve shot and when one of them says, “I didn’t even put a condom on. She was too drunk to notice...” I make sure it’s the last words he ever says.
The blade of my knife finds his throat before I’m even fully through the window. His partner doesn’t have time to react before I’ve cut him up, too. Blood spills from their sliced necks and I gently help them to the ground. Their guns are too noisy to keep around, so I toss them out of the window and onto the dark fire-escape. The last thing I need is for someone I’ve already unarmed to come across more weapons.
Just as the last gun hits the metal outside, I hear a gasp come from behind me. I whip around just in time to spot a rogue guard lifting his barrel my way. Before he can pull the trigger, I’ve thrown my switchblade through his cheek.
“Fuck!” he yells as his gun drops to the floor. He turns away and I’m immediately at his side.
Blood gushes from his sliced lip and I add a matching scar to the other side of his face. A howl of pain escapes his mangled lips and fear skates down my spine. This motherfucker is being too loud.
I shut him up with a punch to the nose, and then with another right between the eyes. His skull cracks and he collapses, unconscious, to the already bloody floor. There’s no point in waiting around for him to wake up, so I make sure he never does. The shiny blade of my knife finds his throat, and then I deposit his weapons along with the others outside, out of harm’s way.
Just as I’m canvassing the rest of the floor for more targets, the white lights start to sputter. It’s disorientating as hell, and I’m forced to throw myself into the nearest corner and shut my eyes to ride it out. If this happens while I’m fighting someone, it could be the death of me.
Luckily, no one appears as the lights flicker back into a steady stream of illumination. The walls vibrate with heavy bass and for a moment I’m thankful for the loud music; it seems to have masked the cries of my victim.
My next move is for the door marked ‘Exit’ just up ahead. If I know my little brother, he’ll be locked away in some top floor VIP office, where he can watch his eternal party play out from behind a bullet proof window pane. For Oscar’s sake, I hope that glass is also sound proof.
When I get to the top floor, I don’t stop. Instead, I go all the way to the roof. There, I bust through the door and scan my surroundings. Not only will the flare have to be fired from up here, but this will be Oscar’s best bet, too. The ground floors will be too heavily guarded to get through, and, while I could take care of all those guards now, it’s not worth the risk. If a single one of them lives long enough to sound any alarm, and I lose the element of surprise against Dante, then Oscar is put at more risk than ever. I can’t have that.
When I figure out a promising route of escape, I re-check all my weapons and wipe the blood off of my switchblade, then I message Aldar with the address of where we’re going to meet after I have my son.
After all that, I head back inside, ready to finally take back what’s mine.
31
Catalina
Dante makes me wait.
The cruel bastard.
A pounding headache of anxiety and stress threatens to tear my skull apart as I sit at gunpoint in the lobby outside of his top floor office. The thin white walls vibrate from the pulsing techno music below. This is no place for a baby...
If my heart wasn’t so incensed at the idea that Dante has been keeping my child here, then I might be sad enough to keel over.
... Poor Oscar, his little ears must be on fire.
“Up,” one of the guards orders me off the couch. The barrel of his assault rifle glares at me as I’m gestured towards the big set of double doors at the far end of the all-white lobby. It’s a stark contrast from the black decor outside, and so tacky that it could make a woman with less on her mind puke, but this is no time to concentrate on designer flaws and bad taste. I’m here to see Oscar, and if I get my chance, I’m here to kill Dante.
I’ve sharpened my nails into razor blades. Whether or not they can pierce human skin is yet to be seen, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself if Angel’s little brother dares bare his neck to me.
“In,” the cold butt of the guard’s gun pushes me through the automatic doors as they open up before us. There are almost no lights on inside, and it takes me a moment to adjust my eyesight to the new darkness. The second I do, the doors slam shut behind me and a whole new wave of blackness blinds my vision.
“Took you long enough...” a familiar hiss comes from some shadow.
I rub my eyes, desperate to gain my bearings. The last thing I need is for Dante to tie me up before I can make a lunge for my baby boy.
Slower than I’d like, my vision finally adjusts to the dark ro
om. My head turns on a swivel, searching for the devil himself.
He’s not behind me—in fact, no one is. The guards that brought me here appear to be waiting outside. Could Dante be stupid enough to meet me alone?
“Over here,” the snake hisses again. I search for the source, but the longer I look the more everything seems to darken. Where’s Oscar? I don’t see him anywhere. My gut tightens like shrinking bark around a growing trunk as I consider the worst possible outcome...
Then, a pale white spectre steps out of the shadows. My first reaction is to shrink away from the slimy ghost, but my pride won’t let me flinch far. This is the man who I’ve come to kill. This is the man who ruined my life and took my son.
Fuck this piece of shit.
“You’re looking... well,” Dante taunts me as he starts to pace. My frantic eyes dart between him and every other point in the room as I search for any signs of Oscar. There’s nothing, not even a sound.
The walls in here don’t vibrate; the bass from the pulsing music outside has disappeared, and even the flashing lights are barely visible through the giant, tinted glass window pane that lines the west wing of the full floor office, but still, there’s no sign of my baby boy.
“Where is he?” I demand. My voice is jittery and quiet, but I push through my nerves. This needs to be done, even if it means I’m harmed in the process.
“Who?” Dante teases. He slinks towards me, his dark fractured eyes sucking in what little light there is.
“You said you had Oscar...”
Dante takes a deep breath. “Ah, you mean my nephew? He’s here.” The cruel slime ball stops some odd fifteen feet away from me and leans against the head of a big oakwood desk. “Would you like to see him?”
The last thing I want to do is play along with any of Dante’s sick games, but I’ve come too far to play dumb now. “Yes...”
An evil smirk crosses Dante’s thin lips and my heart drops. What has he done to my baby boy?
Suddenly, he slams a clenched fist against the oakwood desk and I jump in shock.
Quickly, silence returns to the dark office... until a soft buzzing sound cuts through it all like a knife. My eyes dart around the darkness, desperate for answers, before landing on a growing sliver of light just behind Dante. He turns around just as the buzzing is replaced by a click. Then, there’s only more silence.
The new light source silhouettes Dante’s spindly body as he steps towards it. I can’t see around him, but the motherly instinct in me forces my feet forward, deeper into the shadows.
... Then I hear it.
The soft sob of a waking infant.
“Oscar!” The cry that escapes my trembling lips isn’t quite so soft.
“Shh!” Dante immediately hisses in response. He turns back around to me with fire in his eyes and a thin finger up to his lips. “He’s sleeping.”
That’s a lie. I know the sound of Oscar waking up. Sure, he may have just been taking a nap, but he’s awake now. Mama’s here.
Finally, Dante steps aside, and I get to see what I came for.
Ahead, in a square box behind a sliding panel, under a light that is far too bright for a baby’s sensitive eyes, squirms Oscar.
Before I can think better of it, I'm moving towards my son.
“That’s far enough,” Dante lashes, one hand pointed towards me and the other towards Oscar. He’s much closer to my baby boy, and I know that I have to do as he says, or else...
I reluctantly stop in my tracks and drink in the sight of my love.
Ozzy stretches out, yawning and gurgling as he wakes up from a late afternoon nap. He’s wearing the same onesie he was taken in, but he doesn’t appear to be hurt in anyway.
“What do you want?” I ask. Somehow, the shakiness has left my voice. I guess I’m fully concentrated now. My goal is clear; Oscar’s safety is all that matters.
“You,” Dante smirks.
A chill skates down my spine but I hold it together. “You already had me,” I remind him.
“No, I didn’t, not like I wanted to.”
A greasy sickness builds up in my gut at the thought of all those nights I laid awake waiting for Dante to come into my room and force himself on me. “Why didn’t you?”
“I was busy,” he snarls.
“What changed?”
Dante’s mouth opens, but no words come out. It seems obvious to me what his honest answer would be, but Dante’s anything but honest. “I found some free time,” he lies.
Bullshit. There’s a fucking war happening outside of these walls. He hasn’t found anything but a renewed sense of envy. Angel finally got me back, and now, all of a sudden, Dante can’t stand that he ever let me go, that he never took advantage of my captivity. It’s the only answer.
Still, I know what I have to do. “So, what happens now?”
“Now, you give me what I want.” Dante licks his lips and my skin crawls. It takes all of my will power to keep from retreating. Instead, I stand my ground and let him wander over from Oscar, towards me.
“What do you want?” I ask again, this time in a whisper.
“Everything.”
“Everything of Angel’s...” I quietly correct him.
Dante stops in his tracks and I want to kick myself—Don’t jab him, Catalina!—but the ghoul seems more entertained than hurt by my foolish words. “I can see why my brother fell for you,” he whistles. “A feisty senorita to challenge him—that’s the kind of man he is, always looking for a challenge. Well, I gave him a challenge. Really, he should be thanking me.”
For a split-second, I swear I hear Dante’s voice crack when he says that word, ‘thanking’... does he regret all of this?
I wouldn’t be surprised, but I doubt it’s for any human reasons. He probably just misses his old carefree lifestyle.
“Why do you want me?” I prod, curiosity taking control of my vocal chords.
Dante’s reptilian eyes blink up and down my body. My arms want to cross over my chest and hide my figure from him, but I remain stoic.
Oscar yawns behind the devil and I take deep, slow breaths.
“You still don’t remember, do you?” Dante sneers. “But I guess that’s to be expected. How many men did you offer yourself to before you found the right price? What did my brother pay for that body? Whore...”
My sharp fists clench at the insult. How dare he call me such names in front of my son? The nails I’ve whittled into weapons dig into my palms as I quietly dare Dante to get any closer. “I’m not a whore...” I mumble under my breath.
Dante huffs with derision. “Of course you are, idiot. How long were you trying to sell that tight little body of yours before my brother took you for his own? At least six years...”
My first instinct is to snap, but then Dante’s words ring around between my ears and I’m frozen still.
Six years...
How the fuck does he know that?
The truth is, that night at the gala where I first met Angel wasn’t my first attempted foray into higher society. It all started just over six years ago, when a shady friend of a friend introduced me to a man who said he could introduce me to the kind of people I sought.
He wasn’t lying... but I should have never trusted the bastard. The men he knew weren’t interested in partnerships, they wanted slaves. Sex slaves.
I was brought to an old church in a nearby town, and the second the front doors closed behind us, I was tied from head to toe and dragged up to the altar. In the pews were a dozen shadows with evil Cheshire grins. On stage with me were half a dozen other poor girls.
We had been lured to our doom, now we were to be sold to the highest bidder.
A shiver works its way across my skin as I remember my price climbing higher and higher until it seemed like a victor was finally emerging...
And then, the church door burst open and a stream of heavily armed policias entered with their guns drawn. The men all scrambled; some escaped, some didn’t, but me and every last one
of the girls who had been kidnapped alongside of me were saved.
The effort was led by my old mayor, Luis Morelos—it’s why I enshrined him forever in Oscar’s name.
Oscar Luis Alzate. Oscar Luis Alzate-Montoya.
But what does that have to do with Dante?
Unless...
“You were at the church!?” I blurt out, and I hear a curious gurgle come from Oscar’s box.
“Finally!” Dante sighs, raising his arms to the ceiling in a big show of just how exasperated he is. “Did anyone ever tell you that you were a little slow?”
I don’t respond to his lashing. I’m still confused. Buying a sex slave definitely wouldn’t be out of character for Dante, but he would have been so young... though, I guess I was, too. I guess that’s how I first recognized him... even if I didn’t want to.
“Mama?” Ozzy’s innocent little voice floats around Dante’s sulking shadow and my heart breaks.
“Let me see him,” I beg.
“First, we need to make up for lost time.”
Is this what brought about all of this chaos? Could Dante really be so petty? He tried to buy me as a sex slave six years ago, and then, when he found at that his brother had taken me for himself, he snapped...
The cruel idiot.
I want to dig my sharp nails into his neck and bathe in his blood, but he needs to get close first. It’s a good thing that it seems like that’s exactly what he wants to do.
“Fine, take me,” I tell him. My arms reach to the ceiling and I don’t hide a single curve on my figure. Dante hesitates. I can see the battle playing out behind his cold eyes. It wouldn’t surprise me if his dick didn’t even work anymore, but he’s been so consumed by envy that he can’t see past me.
“I knew you were a whore... and with your son watching,” he chides. Dante has blocked Oscar from view, but I can hear the baby boy gurgling and moving about in his own little cage.
“Mama?” The tiny voice drifts through the stale air again. My nerves are so tense I can hardly process the tone of Ozzy’s call. Is he scared? Lonely?
I suck in a jittery breath and let Dante crawl my way. His dark eyes impale my body and his slimy tongue scuttles across his dry lips. With each step he takes, the room gets colder. I’m frozen still as he reaches out for me...
