Making a mental note to come back when we have cleared the warehouse, I close the door and try another. This time it’s a storage room, with tarps and tools and a half-drunk bottle of water left on the floor. Frustration tugs at me in a sharp and ugly way. What if we’re too late? What if they’ve moved them? What if this is another dead end and we leave whilst someone screams behind a locked door… the idea that there’s someone out there that needs our help and we can’t get to them is killing me inside.
We keep moving, clearing room after room as Atlas and Felix relay stats and positions, letting us know what Riggs and Victor have discovered. Roman’s hand lifts suddenly and my breath gets caught in my throat. He indicates for me to stop and I freeze instantly. Studying him, I wait for him to explain what he has found, but his head just tilts like he’s listening for a sound.
Is that…?
My breath stutters as everything inside me goes cold, my blood draining from my face as the air feels thicker in my lungs. My vision narrows, sharpens, like my body is trying to turn me into something that can survive what comes next. Roman’s eyes meet mine, there is no softness now, just pure, unfiltered rage.
Moving swiftly, we follow the sound, weaving in and out of pallets until we end up in a long corridor. Another guard appears at the end of the aisle, walking towards us with a slow swing of his torch beam, humming under his breath like he has nothing to fear.
He makes me feel fucking sick.
He knows. I know he knows, and yet he carries on without a care in the world.
His light skims the floor next to my feet and Roman starts to move, but I’m already gone.
I slip behind the crates, then into the guard’s path like a nightmare made solid. God knows what he sees, I’m already covered in blood, but just like the other guard, I give him no time to process anything. My hand clamps his mouth, my other drives the knife up under his ribs in a fast and decisive move.
Twisting, I feel the cartilage of his ribs give first, then the scrape of the blade against bone as he tries to struggle free. The squelch of the knife echoes in the small space and his torch drops to the floor. Pulling the blade out, I stab him again and again as blood sprays everywhere. The warm, thick liquid covers my face, my neck, my hands.
The adrenaline hits me again, my insides silently screaming as every nerve ending lights up with sick satisfaction as I watch his eyes slowly dim. Roman’s fingers brush my wrist and I gasp. My head twists to him. He gives me a soft smile, the only type of communication we can safely have in here, then wipes my face with his thumb. A thousand things spoken between us without words.
He nods towards the door we were heading to, I grab his hand to ground myself for a moment. Whatever I see here, I can’t come back from. For one weak moment, I allow myself to think about turning around. Then the noise sounds again andI take a centring breath before walking towards the light that pulses beneath the door.
My heart starts hammering, harder this time, not with fear but fury so sharp it tastes like metal. Roman reaches for the handle, twists, and for a second the world seems to stop.
In front of us is a dirty mattress that has been left on the floor, it’s stained and wet. The air is thick with sweat and something coppery and foul. A young girl is half on the mattress, half off of it, her naked body is bruised in so many places that it makes my vision blur. She’s wailing and begging as words tumble out between sobs so loud that I can’t understand what she is saying. The sound hits me in the gut, as a man is above her panting carelessly like this is entertainment as his disgusting shrivelled dick enters her bleeding vagina.
For a heartbeat, my brain tries to process it.
For a heartbeat, I’m not an assassin. I’m just a girl staring at another girl’s pain and recognising the shape of it like it’s carved into my bones.
Something inside me snaps; I’m not just a girl, I am a fucking Swallow. And this will never happen under my watch again.
I don’t think, I just move. I cross the room in a rush, rage like I have never felt before bleeds out of my pours as I grab the man’s greasy hair and rip him away from her with both hands. He falls back on the floor, stunned.
“What…” he manages to say, just as my fist connects with his jaw.
The sound of his bone snapping under my knuckles reverberates around the room and feeds the burning fire inside me. I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Using the advantage of him being on the floor, I straddle him. He gets a couple of shots into my body and I feel my rib give under his punch. I welcome the pain.
This son of a bitch was raping a girl in front of me. I’m going to make him hurt, I repeat in my head over and over asI overpower him with punches. Blood spits from his nose, his rotten teeth flying out as the sound of knuckles against flesh, bone, and teeth becomes music to my ears.
“FAE!” Roman’s voice cuts through the fog like a blade.
His strong arms hook under mine, hauling me back, and I fight him for half a second on instinct. My body has turned feral, refusing to stop until that man in front of me takes his last breath. He holds me tighter, using his larger size to overpower and contain me.
“Fae,” Roman says again, quieter this time, his hot breath tickling my ear, “Look at her.”
His words hit me and I stop, frozen. My chest heaves as my heart pounds and blood drips from my hands onto the floor. My vision swims as Roman loosens his hold on me and I turn. Jesus fucking Christ.
The girl is on the floor, curled in on herself and shaking so hard her teeth click. Her eyes are huge as she takes us in. They look wild and unfocused as they try to track every movement, like she expects me to turn my anger on her next. She can’t be older than eighteen, but maybe she is just so malnourished she looks younger than she is.
Tears well up in my eyes without my permission as she looks at me like I’m just another monster in this room.
My throat tightens painfully as I extract myself from Roman and give the unconscious man another glance. Turning back to the girl, I force my hands open, palms up, to try and show her I’m not holding anything and that I’m not a threat. I lower myself slowly, keeping my body as small as I can even though every part of me is funnelled with pain and rage.
“Hey,” my voice comes out rough, she flinches. “Hey… you’re safe now. You’re safe now, okay? We’re here to help.”
Her eyes shutter closed and my heart bleeds at the fear radiating off her. I swallow hard, count to ten and then count toten again, trying to swallow the rage deep enough that it doesn’t scare her.