Chapter 23

The power came on sometime later, and I have taken to sneaking looks at the watches of the men who come to guard us. Not because I need to know what time it is, but because Nessa now has a raging fever.

With the power on, the speakers in the room pick up on the words outside. I try to stay quiet, not wanting to give away that we can hear each other just yet.

It turns out these guards are mouthy feckers. In the past two hours, I have learned that the children they traffic are being auctioned off to the highest bidders by a woman. She sells them in groups and Donovan bought around forty of them.

It's expected that the kids will take a year to train up, and they move them in some kind of pattern, but I struggle to understand their words perfectly. Some of them are as young as six years old.

The same age Enya was when I met her in the back of that van .

They all go quiet the minute Green steps into the room though, almost as if they are afraid of him. Hell, I'm afraid of the guy.

He walks into Nessa's old cell, surveying all of the dried blood on the ground, and laughs.

"I didn't think she was going to wake up from that last round. You've got a feisty little one in there."

I refuse to give him a reaction, so I stand unmoving with my arms crossed.

"Doesn't look like she will make it much longer anyway," he nods to Nessa on the floor behind me. I am shielding as much of her as I can from his eyes, but there is only so much I can do.

"We have tools arriving soon, should be able to cut through this glass, and then what will we do?" He hums to himself singing ‘what will we do, what will we do with you'.

I stay planted in front of Nessa. If they get through the glass, I hope they know they are going to have to kill me to get to her. Then there goes all their leverage. Nessa has made it clear she would rather die than break for them.

"Maybe we could just let her die in there, serves her right for being such a stubborn bitch."

I stalk to the glass, slamming my hand on it between us. Green flinches. It isn't big, but it's there and I saw it.

He tries to laugh it off, but now it's my turn to grin. He is afraid of me.

"I do not think your boss will appreciate you killing his merchandise ," I quip. The guards referred to Nessa as the boss's property so many times I wanted to vomit. Women are not things to be owned, they are treasures to be feckin' cherished.

Green's face twists with anger. "He said I could do whatever was needed to get her back in her place. On her knees to serve him !"

That's interesting.

"It's hard for her to be on her knees as his servant if she's dead."

"Fuck you!" he sneers. "You have a few hours left before I put a bullet in your brain and maybe hers too. That way she can just lay at his feet instead, and he won't have to deal with all her backtalk!"

The man storms off like a child throwing a temper tantrum. I want to laugh at him, but the reality of the situation causes a wave of nausea to overtake me.

Carefully, I lift Nessa in my arms, holding her close. Her eyes open and I give her water, but she continues to shiver.

"S-so c-cold," she says.

"I know, Sweetheart. Boris is coming soon." He has to.

She nods and her head drops onto my chest. "T-talk to me, Killer."

Right, distraction . "What do you want to know?"

It takes a minute before she answers, and I half wonder if she fell back asleep. "I thought you were dead for three years. I want to know it all."

I could swear she passes out again, which is the only reason I have the courage to tell her everything. All of the nights I hid in the shadows, watching her. How I drew every reaction I ever saw on her face, and a few I began to imagine just for myself.

I tell her how Juvie was the one who got me into sketching and how he helped me into the Shades. I confess that when he told me we needed to help Evie, I was hesitant at first. I admit that I loved him like a brother until the day he died.

I tell her how I buried him and vowed to find happiness again in his name because he was the one who made me believe that it could still exist.

For at least two hours, I spill everything I can think to tell her until I am drifting off to sleep with her in my arms, hoping she didn't hear any of it.