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What I wasn’t fine with were pieces of shit like Yuri getting in my way or using the moniker as an insult instead of respecting the brutality of what it meant.
“I’ll make sure Ivan is around to give you a hand,” Eduard said on his way out.
“No. He’s still too soft. Take him with you.”
Eduard nodded and disappeared.
As soon as everyone was gone, I grabbed some food and carried it to the kid’s cell.
He was asleep when I approached, curled up into a tight ball on his side. Even though it was warm outside, it was considerably cooler in the warehouse. I’m sure the concrete didn’t help. He was still wearing the clothes we grabbed him in, which was nothing more than a blue t-shirt and black jeans. I considered getting him a hoodie or something, but hopefully he wouldn’t be here much longer.
Unlocking the door quietly, I eased inside and set the fresh bottle of water and a protein bar on the floor near him. He didn’t seem to be eating much of anything, or drinking, either. I didn’t know if it was because he thought we might poison him or suddenly withhold food. Either way, he was wrong. It was bad business to hurt your hostage any more than you had to.
I was on my way out when his voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Thank you.” So quiet, I almost missed it. But he always said it. No matter who it was or what they brought, he said “thank you” every single time.
Bracing a hand against the door frame, I angled myself toward him. He was still laying on the blanket, only now he was clearly awake, watching me intently.
“Why do you do that?” The question rumbled out of me before I thought to stop it.
“Do what?” His blond brows dipped.
“Say ‘thank you.’”
Blinking, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, his brow still furrowed. “I don’t know.”
I squinted at him, looking for insincerity in his face. I doubted he had an insincere bone in his body, but why the fuck was he being so cordial to the people who were holding him captive?
“Because you don’t have to?” he offered at last, looking at me like he hoped it was the right answer.
“Well, stop.” I crossed the threshold and slammed the door shut.
11
Roan
The next timeI woke up it was to the sound of girls screaming. A dozen different voices, shrieking, crying, and shouting in another language, the sounds echoing off the metal walls around us.
I got to my feet quickly and watched the dickhead blond guy and another guy shove a group of girls toward the cages next to me. When one of the girls didn’t move fast enough, the blond backhanded her, sending her sprawling across the floor with a yelp.
She tried to crawl away from him, holding her face while the angry red handprint swelled on her skin.
He snarled something in his language and grabbed a handful of her long, blonde hair, dragging her across the floor by it.
One of the girls ran forward to try and help her, but the second guy shoved a gun in her face and pushed her back toward her own cage. He holstered his gun again beneath his black Adidas coat and secured the lock before moving down the row, depositing a single girl in each cell. If they resisted, he slapped them or jabbed their stomach so they doubled over before he pushed them inside.
Clinging to the chainlink, I watched in frozen horror, helpless to do a goddamn thing.
The Dickhead, meanwhile, was still taunting the hysterical blonde on the floor. She screamed back at him in the same language, kicking viciously and clawing at his hands to try and free her hair.
“Hey!” I yelled the word before I even realized what I was doing. “Asshole!”
His dark gaze snapped up, his lip curling. “Shut your fucking mouth, boy, or—”
“Or what? You’ll cut out my tongue? Yeah. You said that already. Original. Why don’t you leave her alone?”
Stepping over the sobbing girl, he strode to my cage in no time flat.
