“I picked up girls from the street and trained them to become nothing. Empty shells of the girls they once were, just so they could serve their master.”
He searches my eyes for something, but there’s nothing I can say. Nothing I can feel. Nothing I can think. The more he says, the more empty I feel.
“You were right,” he says with a croaky voice. “I am a monster.”
Chapter 8
Viktor
Sixteen Years ago
I open the door and bring the food into the room, silently placing it on the table.
“Thank you, Sir,” the kid says loud and clear, bowing in my presence.
I ignore it as I leave the room again. I don’t ever show my emotions in front of the servants.
It’s forbidden.
But it isn’t right. Or normal.
I’ve grown numb.
Numb from seeing the girls picked up from the streets like fucking cattle and prodded into a van.
Numb from watching them grow up in a tiny cell, being told they only live to serve.
Numb from participating, from using them, knowing full well what I was doing. And I did it anyway.
For years, I’ve helped the company grow. I say company, but they’re actually a bunch of mafia assholes selling or killing souls for other rich assholes.
And I’m one of them. The youngest bastard of them all.
We kill. We sell. We do anything to get our hands on money.
But our specialty is finding the perfect, submissive girls and training them to be dolls. Nothing more than fuck-dolls for others to use. Even boys don’t escape our grasp. There’s a kid for every sick bastard out there.
Fucking disgusting.
And still, I take part.
The other day, I brought in a girl; she was crying for her mommy while being dragged toward her new home. It could’ve been me … I’m almost the same age. But it didn’t even faze me. That’s how numb I’ve become.
We put the girls in underground facilities and train them from day one to obey.
Obey or be killed.
God, I’ve killed so many, I can’t even count them on two hands.
I’ve probably sold even more of them.
If there’s a heaven, I probably won’t ever get to see it.
So why do I do it?
I ask myself this question every single day, and the only answer I can come up with is that it’s become the norm for me. The easy route to money. As shameful as it is, I grew into this lifestyle as much as it grew on me.
I still remember being taken under my boss’s wing as an even younger pickpocket on the streets. He was a feared mobster, head of the Snatchers Division; an underground company that sold girls and boys to the richest of the rich.
I should’ve been scared of him, but I wasn’t. I was in awe. I craved his power. He was a man who could buy anything he ever wanted. Food and warm beds—as many as he wanted. I wanted all that and more … I wanted to be like him.
When I was caught red-handed after stealing from one of his guards, I thought I was a goner, but he didn’t kill me. He didn’t even touch me. Instead, he took me with him and showed me everything I wanted … Everything I could have.
He saw something in me no one else saw, so he took me in as one of his own. He taught me how to kill. How to find the girls we’re looking for. How to strike a deal, gamble, cheat, and steal. He taught me all the dirty tricks in the book, and when I was young, I thought that was actually worth something.
I thought surviving was more important, and since my boss was giving me a means to survive other than stealing, it was good.
But the more kids I saw in his filthy hands, the more bitter I became.
They were like me.
Only they weren’t me.
I was picked to be his apprentice. I became one of his best men.
They didn’t.
I was chosen. They weren’t.
It was so simple, yet it meant everything.
And at the same time, it was worthless.
Now, I don’t know what to do anymore.
I’m tired of watching my boss use kids like fodder to get more money. I’m tired of this company that has devolved from people looking for a way to survive in a harsh world to people living off other people’s backs.
We’re not doing this because it’s needed.
We’re selling kids because we’re selfish. Because we want more.
Always more, more, more. That’s what it’s about, this world … more … and it sickens me to the point that I puke nearly every day. Especially when I realize his sick plans never end.
And the sickest part about this is that our Division isn’t even the only one. There are a few Divisions specifically focused on assassinations and on dealing drugs; there’s even one for hacking, and then there’s the Tribunal—a Division that makes sure everyone follows the rules.
Even mobsters have rules.
Rules that are company-wide policy.
I doubt we’re the only ones. There must be dozens, maybe hundreds of companies just like ours.
I feel sick just thinking about it.
But it’s about to get worse.
Two years ago, Vladim decided it was time to start breeding our own servants. He thought they’d be easier since we didn’t need to snatch them off the streets, and we could raise them from the get-go. Babies. Human babies. Raised to be sold like cattle.
I want to punch the wall, but I hold myself back. I’m supposed to be bringing food to the next kid, but what’s going on has me so distracted. We’ve gone too far, but I can’t stop it either. Not by myself. I’m just a young guy. I can’t fight a whole company on my own.
I take a deep breath and sigh.
I still can’t believe what my boss suggested.
His own people … He wants them to fuck the servants to make babies.
We’re supposed to fuck the servants who are of age to make more servants so he can make a fucking farm out of them. And we’re becoming the fucking stallions to inseminate the mares.
Fuck.
I slam the wall, unable to contain myself.
The worst part is that I can’t deny him.
That’s like treason of the highest degree. After all, I’m his second in command. The one who’s always with him, who’s always got his back.
I wish I could go back in time and tell that little boy not to ever take that man’s hand when he offered food and a place to sleep. It wasn’t worth it.
It never will be.
But how do I get out?
I can’t. Not when I’m leaving all these … people behind.
These people. Because that’s what they are. People. Humans, like me.
And if I ran … I’d leave them all behind to die a slow, miserable death in the hands of a monster.
I can’t let it happen.
So I push myself off the wall and continue walking with my head down, like I always do, determined to someday have the courage to fight for another life besides my own.
***
Alexis
Now
I hear his words, but they’re not really registering.
I’m stuck on words like cattle and babies and servants.
Words I wouldn’t ever connect … Words that now make me sick to my stomach.
My hand has been in front of my mouth the entire time, listening to his story, wondering if this could all be true. It’s almost too sick to believe.
But I can hear the regret in his voice, and it gnaws on my heart.
Fuck me.
This is some tough shit.
He’s been silent for some time now, so I guess his story has ended.
Or he doesn’t want to continue. I don’t blame him.
“Holy fuck …” I say after a while to break the silence.
“I told you, you were right,” he growls, and then he points his finger at me. “And if you ever tell this shit to anyone else, I’ll kill ya.”
I swallow back the lump in my thr
oat as he taps on my chest. I’m not sure if it’s a real threat or an empty one. “Relax; I’m not going to tell anyone.”
I put my hands up to show my resignation. Hell, I don’t think I could make anyone believe his story, even if I said it was true, so it wouldn’t make sense to tell anyone anyway.
He glares at me for a second before backing down again. “So … now, you know.”
“Why you’re always brooding, yeah, but it doesn’t explain anything about your mask.”
“Tough luck,” he says with a grunt. “I’m done with stories.”
“Hey, you’re not the only one with a bad rep, okay? I did some bad shit too.”
“Like what?” he snaps.
“I wasn’t always a hooker, you know …” I say, pushing a lock of my black hair behind my ear. “Before I was making any money, we were living on the streets, Alisha and me. We kept moving from place to place. We’ve only just gotten an actual place to call home. But we don’t have any other family, except for each other.”
His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t interrupt me, so I continue.
“But a long time before that, we used to have a mom. I was so fucking young, and I barely remember her at all, but I can still hear her voice in my head sometimes. She keeps telling me to run … and I don’t know why.” I take a deep breath. “Whatever.”
Suddenly, his hand is on my shoulder, pushing me back into the wall. “You were homeless. How long ago?”
I raise a brow. I don’t understand why he’s so interested. “I don’t know. Years ago, I was too young to remember.”
His eyes flash with something, anger, resentment … or maybe surprise.
“Where’s your mom?” he asks.
I jerk away from his grip. “Like I know. I haven’t seen her since some guy took my sis and me away from her. I don’t even remember what he looks like,” I spit. “And fuck that dude; we were left to fend for ourselves. On the fucking streets, like rats, because he had to take us away from our home.”
Out of nowhere, he grips the back of my head and twists me around.
“Ow!” I yell. “Fuck, what are you doing?”
“Hold still,” he says, and he swipes my hair away.
His finger briefly brushes the skin on the back of my neck.
“No …” he mutters under a heavy breath.
I manage to wriggle away from his hold and push him away. “Let go.”
His eyes smolder with rage. “Get out.”
I grimace. “What? You just gonna tell me to leave?”
“Get out!” he screams, his bellow loud enough to make me cower.
Shit. He looks like he’s about to attack me.
“GET OUT!” His stance is so aggressive, so violent, that my instincts take over.
I don’t think.
I just run.
I don’t go to my room to collect my stuff.
I just rush down the stairs as quickly as possible, to get as far away from him as I can.
Before he changes his mind.
Before he follows me and decides to make me stay anyway.
He’s giving me the opportunity, and I’m taking it.
The door is in my sight and adrenaline pulses through my veins at the sight of it.
Only a few more steps and I’ll be outside again. Minutes, hours, and I’ll be with Alisha again.
“Where are you going?” I hear Winston yell from the kitchen, and he comes running out as I pass him.
“I’m not fucking staying here anymore,” I growl. “Open the fucking door.”
“I can’t—”
“You heard him! I can leave. Now.” I look him straight in the eyes. He knows as well as I do that he could hear Viktor’s scream.
Winston silently walks toward the door and pushes the key into the lock, opening it for me.
“Sad to see you leave,” he says as I pass him.
A brief cold draft makes me shiver, but I don’t look back.
I won’t stay here for one more minute.
Chapter 9
Viktor
Through the window, I watch her run through the yard; her feet quick as lightning as she jumps the fence and makes the leap. There she goes. Disappearing from my life forever. Again.
Not even for one second does she hesitate. I don’t blame her. I’ve made a mess of this.
I wanted her to stay, but when I heard what she’d been through, I couldn’t keep her here any longer. There was a reason I wanted to look on her neck.
She had the mark.
The inked barcode tattooed on the back of her neck.
A sign of ownership.
She was one of the girls at the facility where I once worked.
I slam my fist into the wall again and let my head drop against it, growling softly to myself. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before … Her hair must’ve covered it up. But still, I should’ve asked. Should’ve told Winston to do a background check on the girls he got for me. Shouldn’t have yelled.
Now, she’s gone forever.
The only girl who didn’t fear me, who fought back against me with every inch of her strength…
Gone.
Just like that.
I let her go.
It was for her own good.
“Viktor?” Winston appears in the doorframe.
“I know. I’m not interested.”
“I think you are. Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
I shrug. “I don’t care.” I frown at him. “Weren’t you the one telling me to be nice?”
“This isn’t about her, Viktor. It’s about you. She knows about you now. I know you told her because I could hear it downstairs.”
I swallow, listening reluctantly to what he has to say.
“She knows everything about your past. If she goes to the cops with this, it could mean—”
“The end. Yeah, I know,” I interject. “But I couldn’t keep her here. Not with that … thing on her neck.”
“What thing?” He pushes the door open farther.
“She had the mark of the company.” I point at my neck. “The barcode.”
His eyes widen, and he almost stumbles back. “Oh, no …”
“I can’t keep her here, Stan. If she stayed, and Vladim found out … it could get me killed.”
Vladim. Just mentioning his name gives me the chills.
Motherfucking Vladim … head of the Snatcher Division.
The target of all my hatred.
“No, no, you’ve gotta go after her.” Winston rushes into my room and grabs my arm. “If she talks, he will find out. You said he has connections.”
“So? I let her go. I’m washing my hands of this.”
“Listen to me.” He manages to shake me with his old, brittle hands, which surprises me. “If she’s one of them, and she escaped, and they find her … they’re taking her back there.”
My face suddenly turns completely white.
Winston licks his lips. “She’s been active as a call girl for a while now. They’re probably onto her already, even if she doesn’t know; she may have already been in danger to begin with. There’ve been rumors going around about a pretty girl with black hair and tattoos. That’s how I found her. And if I know … they know.”
Fuck no.
I never thought of how her being here could mean her end too.
I completely forgot about the consequences, about what would happen if she talked …
If she really escaped the facility, she’s a stick of dynamite that just needs to be lit.
Fuck.
“Fuck!” I push past him and grab my coat on the way to the door.
“Hurry!” Winston yells, but I’ve already slammed the door shut behind me.
I know I’ve gotta be quick.
It’s only a matter of time before she talks to someone, and if it’s a cop and she tells him where she’s been … we’re both done for.
***
Alexis
I run through the woods, being
chased by what feels like an invisible ghost, trying to make it to the other side as fast as possible. I don’t know where I am or where I’m going; I just know that I need to find a road. Roads have cars. Cars can take me back to the city. Back to my sister. Back to where I belong.
My legs keep me going, adrenaline coursing through my body as I ignore the pain in my feet. I just keep pushing. Even though I feel a pang in my stomach, I don’t look back. I feel like I’m abandoning him, but at the same time, I know I shouldn’t worry. He let me go. It was his choice, not mine. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I run past the trees.
A few minutes later, I reach a dirt road and walk onto it. Panting heavily, I raise my hands at the first car that comes by. First, I’m afraid it’ll just drive straight past me because it’s going so fast, but luckily, it stops right in front of me. Not so lucky … it’s a freaking cop.
I would be lucky if I were a normal girl, but I’m a hooker, and that isn’t exactly a legal profession. But when he rolls down his window, I ask for help anyway. What else am I supposed to do?
“Could you please give me a ride back to town?” I ask.
“What’s this all about?” he asks. “Where’d you come from?”
“Does it matter?”
He raises a brow. “Of course, it does. Why would I give a ride to a random stranger?”
“Because you’re a cop and I need your help.”
His eyes narrow, and then he unbuckles his seat belt and opens the door. “Wait there, please.”
Fuck.
He gets out of the car, the engine still on, and I wonder what the fuck he’s going to do. He walks over to me, his hands casually in his pocket as he leans back and looks at me. “A girl doesn’t just randomly walk out of the woods like that. Tell me where you came from.”
I lean back, sputtering my words. “From … somewhere. In the woods.”
He laughs. “Right. Why do I get the feeling you’re lying?”
I cross my arms. “It’s none of your business.”
“All right then.” He shrugs and turns around. “Your call.”
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