Broken: Boxed Set

by Wilde, Leah

  I reached a crosswalk. The blinking red hand told me to stay in place as cars whizzed past in front of me. All these people had such normal lives. They were accountants and dentists, housewives, children headed off to school, and none of them had ever even heard of something like a sex slave auction, much less been aware that it took place right under their noses. What a thing it was to be so blissfully ignorant. I’d never had that kind of luck.

  Too impatient to stand still and wait for the signal to change, I decided to cross to the other side of the street. Keep moving, keep moving—that was the mantra. Let my legs work and my brain stay silent. I hurried across the street, barely glancing to make sure that no one had chosen to barrel through the red light and mow me down. Although, to be fair, that might not have been the worst thing in the world.

  There was a white van idling on the corner. I walked in front of it and turned my attention to the sidewalk unfolding ahead of me. I was three or four blocks away from the bus station. Mexico, here I come, I thought to myself.

  That was when the hands grabbed me.

  The door to the van slid open as four men leaped out of the vehicle towards me, picking me up and covering my mouth to stop me from screaming. I thrashed wildly like a trapped animal, but I never had a chance.

  “No, no!” I screamed when they had thrown me on the floor of the van and shut the door. I felt a lurch as the driver pressed hard on the gas, sending it careening down the street, straight through the red light. Horns blared and angry drivers protested, but the van didn’t stop. We kept on moving.

  In the back, I was throwing elbows and knees around like flails. I connected with the temple of one of the men. He cursed and threw all his weight against my leg, trapping it against the floor. The other three did the same.

  Behind me, someone stuffed a rag in my mouth to silence me. The man holding my right arm shoved up the sleeve of the shirt of Dominic’s that I’d stolen and yanked my wrist towards him so that the underside of my arm was exposed.

  “Shh,” said a voice that was sickeningly familiar. Angela emerged from the back row with a glistening needle in her hand. “Don’t worry, hon.” She smiled coldly. “Everything is going to be just fine.” She jabbed the needle into one of the green veins wending along the crook of my elbow. Sleep slugged through me immediately. I fought it hard. But my body could only hold out for a few seconds.

  The last thing I saw before I blacked out was Angela’s face. “It will all be over soon,” she told me. “Very soon.”

  Chapter 27

  Dominic

  I had one more call to make. I punched in the number of the phone I’d given to Isabel. “You better fucking answer,” I growled. But the rings echoed into the stale silence. A dozen, thirteen, fourteen rings went by without anyone picking up at the other end.

  Motherfucker. I’d told her to keep the phone close, hadn’t I? What was so hard about that? All she had to do was hold onto the goddamn phone.

  “Hello?” Someone had answered my call. I heard the sound of heavy breathing, but no words being spoken. “Isabel?”

  A dry cackle speared through the earpiece. “Don’t bother chasing us,” drawled the voice of a husky man, “we’ve already fucked her raw. You can pick up her body at the transaction tonight. Though, I warn you,” he continued, “it will be dripping with a dozen strangers’ cum.” He hung up before I could say a word.

  I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at it in horror. What the fuck was happening? Who had taken her? And how did they know about the transaction?

  “What are you doing?” came a sharp voice.

  I looked down the hall to see Emilio standing there, framed by the low ceiling of the corridor. His arms were crossed over his gut and his eyes were narrowed suspiciously as he stared at me where I was crouched in the corner. I tucked the cell phone away hurriedly, hiding it from his sight.

  “Couldn’t find the bathroom,” I lied, saying the first thing that popped into my mind.

  Emilio pointed a finger at the door right across from me. It was marked with a metallic plaque that read, Bathroom—Men Only. “It’s right there,” he said. His voice was dark and low. I couldn’t get a read on him. All I knew was that this didn’t look good for me.

  “Oh, right,” I stammered. “Can’t believe I missed it. I’ll, uh, just go ahead and piss real quick, then.”

  “Hurry back,” Emilio told me. “We’re about to get started again.” He gave me one last glare before turning and disappearing around the bend.

  I let loose a long exhale. Emilio suspected something. He had to. I would’ve done the same, if I’d caught someone crouched in the corner lying as blatantly and badly as I had done. But what would he do about it? Would he tell Antonio? I gulped. Everything was crumbling all at once. I hoped I’d find a way to make it out of this shit storm with my skin intact.

  I waited for a full minute after Emilio had gone before hustling down the hallway after him. I burst back into the meeting room, running a hand over my head as I fell back into my seat.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Antonio intoned. “We were just planning for this evening’s festivities. Everything is shaping up to be lots and lots of fun.”

  The way he was smiling, I knew it would be anything but fun.

  Chapter 28

  Isabel

  I swam back into consciousness, a horrible taste in my mouth, but for some reason, the world was still black. My wrists were encased in metal cuffs, held high behind my back. My shoulder was crying out in pain at the uncomfortable position in which I was pinned. I twisted my head left and right and realized that I couldn’t see because there was a hood over my head.

  “She’s moving,” growled a voice in the distance. It echoed in the room. I heard the wet plink of liquid dripping to the ground. Where the hell was I?

  “The drugs must have worn off. Take off her hood,” said a female voice. I knew that one. Angela.

  Heavy footsteps trotted over to me. The hood was ripped suddenly off of my head. I squinted hard against the bright fluorescent lights overhead. It took several long blinks before my vision had everything squared away.

  Angela stood in front of me. She was dressed as well as always, in a tight dress made up of black and gray cotton panels stitched together. She tapped one toe on the concrete floor impatiently.

  Next to her stood a man I didn’t recognize. He was fat, with floppy jowls that were desperate for a razor to get rid of the ugly whiskers scabbing across them. He wore sweats and a tank top, stained. His eyes were set far apart from each other, but they protruded like a fish’s.

  “How much longer?” Angela fired at the fat man.

  He shrugged. “Not sure. Can’t be much, though. It’s almost midnight.”

  She sucked her teeth in annoyance. Her gaze swung to me. Her eyes, iron gray, showed not the slightest shred of mercy. “Why do I have to keep dealing with you?” she snapped.

  I was too bleary to offer any kind of an answer. The remaining tendrils of the drug in my system clouded my thoughts, making it hard to focus on any one thing. I looked back and forth from Angela to the man, my eyes refusing to settle.

  She stalked towards me and came to a halt. Her head blocked out the light above. It cast a halo around her face, illuminating her blonde hair like it was on fire. “Over and over again, you keep finding your way back into my life,” she said. “Like a cockroach. A parasite. A fucking leech.” She spat in my face. “You have always been a cockroach. Ever since you were born.”

  Angela’s words didn’t make any sense. Ever since I was born? She’d only known me in the time since I was taken from my daddy and brought to the Capparelli mansion. “What are you talking about?” I stammered, confused.

  She smiled grimly. “You don’t know, do you? Stupid bitch, never even bothered to find out.”

  I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs and find some sense in all this chaos. The room around me was filled with pipes leaking fluid. They looked old and rusty, a
s if ready to burst at any moment.

  Angela sensed my confusion. “Where’s your mother, Isabel?” she chanted in a childish sing-song voice. “Eh? Where is she? Don’t you know?”

  “She’s in, um…California. She ran away. She didn’t like the cold.”

  Angela’s face twisted into a mocking scowl with each word I said as I repeated the story that Daddy had always told me. When I finished, her laugh echoed off the metal piping. “Idiot girl. You killed her, Isabel. You killed her. You killed our mother.”

  I blinked hard. The lights were so bright and the pressure in the room was giving me a headache. I couldn’t have heard her right. Did she say our mother? That made no sense. My mouth flopped open uselessly like a fish as I tried to form the question I wanted to know the answer to.

  Angela beat me to it. “You heard me. Our mother. The one you killed. You kicked in her stomach. She was driving, and you kicked so hard that she crashed. She died, but for some godforsaken reason, you didn’t. You survived.”

  I was reeling. This was information overload. There was no way it could be true. But one look at Angela told me that it was. I couldn’t deny the certainty of the hate written across her face.

  “Why do you think I’ve always hated you, Isabel?” she taunted. “You killed my mother. Our father was a piece of shit and he deserved to die the way he did. But she didn’t deserve that. Why did you do it?”

  She tilted her head to the side. She seemed to genuinely expect an answer from me. I didn’t know what to say. “I, uh, I, how…” I stuttered. My tongue felt fat and numb in my mouth. It wouldn’t work properly. My throat seemed to be closing.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “You are going to die tonight. Both you and your lovely new man.” Her smile broadened by one perfect tooth. “Shame. You two seemed so perfect together.”

  She whirled around to face the man in the sweats. “Fuck her up,” she commanded. She clomped out of the room, leaving me alone with him. The man grinned like a pig, then began to walk towards me, tugging down the front of his sweatpants as he drew closer.

  I screamed and screamed, but there was no one around to hear me. Try as I might, I just couldn’t stand up.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me,” he drawled as he stopped a yard in front of me. He had one hand shoved down the front of his pants. He reached forward with the other and cupped my chin. I yanked at my chains. They were locked too securely to offer much in the way of wiggle room. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  “That lady sure does hate you,” he remarked. “She was tellin’ me all about it. Seems like she’s been out to make you suffer for a long, long time. Well,” he sighed, stroking my cheekbone with one rough thumb, “I’m just doing my own small part to help her out. That’s its own reward, ain’t it? Helping out your fellow man? Or woman, or whatever? Of course, a little piece of ass like yourself ain’t a bad side benefit. And the money. That’s nice, too.”

  His eyes glistened. I saved up all the spit I could in my mouth and fired it into his face. He dropped my chin, surprised, as he fell backwards a few steps and laughed. “Feisty, well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t see that one coming.” His eyes narrowed. “But if I were you, I’d be saving that spit. It’ll help everything go down your throat just a bit easier.” His tone ended in a low, guttural growl as he jumped back towards me and sealed my nostrils between his thumb and forefinger.

  I kept my mouth shut for as long as I could. In front of me, I saw him fumble with his member until I flopped forward out of his pants. It was thick, much rounder than Dominic’s, and rose out of a nest of wild black pubic hair. He picked it up with his free hand and stroked it. The thing rocketed into a thudding erection.

  I was losing the fight with my lungs. I’d have to draw in a breath soon. But I wanted to keep pushing that moment away. Just a few more seconds. Then someone would save me, right? Just a few more. Just a few more.

  I couldn’t hold it anymore. I opened my mouth and sucked in a greedy lungful of air. The man immediately let go of my nose and grabbed my cheeks, squeezing them hard to keep them open. As he did, he rammed himself into my mouth.

  I was wrong. No one was coming.

  Chapter 29

  Dominic

  Before I knew it, it had begun.

  “Strap up, boys,” Emilio ordered as the men crowded around the arms closet. Two foot soldiers stood at the door, passing out guns to each of the men as they trooped by. When they were armed, they stepped aside to check their weapons and test the weight of the firepower in their hands.

  There were fifteen or twenty Capparelli men assigned to the raid, along with Emilio, Antonio, and myself. “You’re sure about this?” asked one of the older men who’d been in the meeting. From what I gathered, he’d been an advisor to Antonio’s father for nearly thirty years. They’d been through plenty of wars together, both successful and not. But he wasn’t prepared for this sudden change of leadership.

  “Of course I’m sure,” Antonio snapped back. He turned and pointed a pistol between the man’s eyes. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” he asked coolly.

  “No, no, not at all,” the man stammered. He backed up with his hands held in the air, a look of fear sprawled across his face.

  Antonio took a step towards him, keeping the pistol trained squarely on the advisor’s face. His voice was low and menacing. “Do you think I’m a coward, Giovanni? Do you think I am a pussy?”

  “Certainly not,” he replied, fingers quaking. “Never, Anton.” He took another step backwards and bumped into a wall. There was no more room to retreat.

  Antonio advanced on him further, closing the space to a mere few inches between his face and the trembling face of the man under his gun. “I am not a coward. Say it.”

  “You are not a coward,” the man repeated. His Adam’s apple rode up and down his throat. A bead of sweat trickled down his face and slid onto the metal of the gun pressed against his forehead.

  Suddenly, Antonio burst into a smile and lowered the gun. He patted the man on the shoulder. “Good. Good.” He turned to face the assembled men. None of us had moved a muscle since the moment the confrontation had started. The atmosphere in the room was brittle with tension. “Boys, this is the beginning of a new era. My era. Don’t let me down. I know you won’t, though…right?”

  He swept his gaze around the room, settling on me. As he looked over them, the men nodded their heads furiously. Everyone was desperate to avoid provoking his manic wrath. He held eyes with me the longest. I hesitated, then gave him a curt nod. He smiled again.

  “Shall we, then?” he asked.

  With everyone armed, Emilio lead us out to a caravan of unmarked vans parked in front of the Capparelli stronghold. We piled in and the vehicles began bumbling down the road. Somehow, I ended up seated next to Antonio. He was staring blankly at the ground. His eyes were riveted, wide open, but his pupils were lax and unfocused. I wondered what the hell he was thinking. He was turning out to be even more of a crazy bastard than I’d expected.

  We hit a bump in the pavement that jolted him from his daze. He turned to face me. Fishing the chain from around his neck, he pulled it up to reveal a vial fastened to the end. There was a tiny silver spoon hooked on the outside of it. He unscrewed the top, removed the spoon, and used it to excavate a heaping bump of cocaine.

  “Care for some?” he asked, extending the spoon in my direction.

  I held up a hand. “No, thanks,” I told him. “Doesn’t agree with my stomach.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then he snorted it into his right nostril. “Ahh,” he said, wringing out his wrists as he tucked the vial back under his shirt. He startled me by slapping himself viciously across the face. “That is the good shit, my friends. That is living.” Every other man in the back of the van kept his eyes fixated on the floor. No one said a word.

  The swap had been arranged to take place at an abandoned sewage treatment plant on the outer edge of the city. I craned my neck to look
out the window as we rumbled into the compound. Industrial equipment loomed large on all sides, casting twisted shadows from the crescent moon overhead. We cruised around back, then came to a shuddering halt.

  The back door swung open, revealing Emilio. “Hope you’re ready, boys,” he called to us. “It’s game time.”

  Antonio sprung up and out, leaping to the ground. He landed with a wheeze, then tugged an automatic rifle from the arms of the man next to him. An evil grin spread from ear to ear as he took a huge inhale of the night air. It smelled musty and foul, the remnants of decades-old sewage still lingering on the edge of the breeze, but he let loose a pleased sigh and the lights in his eyes brightened. Then he pivoted and started marching off towards the center of the plant.