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"You brought us here. I remember your face—please, sir, please tell us if Amora made it out, if she's free." She speaks so fast I can barely keep up. I can barely think of anything other than the fact she's so young, so small. My eyes fan down her body, studying her, and that's when I spot the bruises on her thighs. I have to choke down the bile that forces its way through my throat. I've seen it all here—the women, the fucked up shit that goes on—but fuck, she's a kid.

"He won't tell us shit, Belle, he's one of them. He's come down here to gloat, to make sure we're behaving." She turns, picking up a cup from the ground that she shoves through the metal bars. She throws it, but there's no strength behind it. The cup lands beside my feet, her voice croaky as she calls out, "Get the fuck outta here."

"Please, sir." The blonde's voice carries over the redhead's demands, and I can't hold back anymore.

"She's alive." I let the words spill, and with each one, their faces fall. I see the hurt, the pain. The way the redhead's mouth parts, eyes glassy.

"No..." she breathes, dropping to her knees. "She didn't get out, did she?"

"Where is she? Please bring her back to us!" the blonde cries, her sobs rattling through her body, her pleas echoing around the walls of the cells.

I need to get out, to get away. Fuck, I need to shower and wash away their sobs that are ringing in my ears, and worse—I need to kill something. Someone. I need to replace the way their faces broke as all hope was lost with the image of blood draining from someone's face. To feel a life slip away through my fingers.

I turn away. I can't watch. Not anymore. I'm moving quicker than ever before, and just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear the redhead speak once more.

"Will you give her a message?"

I turn, eyes wide, and meet her gaze. My body moves before I can stop myself, before I can protect whatever sanity I have left, until I'm in front of her gate. Her hands tremble against the bars, tears staining her cheeks.

"Make it quick." My voice is colder than intended.

She slides her arm through the bars that squish against her skin until her hand is placed in front of me, and then she holds out her little finger.

My eyes drop in horror, unable to tear away. Does she want me to take it? To make a promise like a child?

Her voice is no more than a whisper. "Tell her, no matter what." Her hand shakes, but she holds it in place, nudging her finger forward for me to take. I slowly raise my hand, lacing my smallest finger around hers, and just like that, another promise is made. She grips tight as she lets the sobs come.

I nod. "I'll pass on the message." She nods back, pulling away and drops to her mattress, arms wrapped around her chest almost like she's cradling herself. I can't tear my eyes away, and somehow, I find myself gripping against the bars, too.

Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out.

A voice screams inside my head, and I can't block it out. I take a deep breath and move across the room in three quick strides and force myself to sprint up the stairs before I do something stupid.

My feet know the way before my mind has time to catch up, to process anything until I'm standing outside the same dark oak door, serpent markings sketched into the frame. I don't knock. I don't wait. I know what I need. I push open the door and step inside, the familiar hums of the tanks flooding my ears. Vincent's face turns into a smirk as soon as he spots me. He's sitting behind his desk, feet up and hands placed together on his chest.

"What a pleasant surprise, Ace." His voice grates on me, my hands balling into a fist. It takes everything to ignore it.

"I need a contract." My voice shakes. I don't know if it's fear, anger, or guilt, but with every word, the blonde girl's eyes flash in my mind, and worse, with every beat of silence I hear her sobs.

Vincent tilts his head in response, studying my face.

"Why?"

Because I need to replace the image of that little girl in the cells with the picture of life draining from someone's eyes. I need something to replace the guilt that weighs heavy on my chest.

"Because I need to kill," I answer, somewhat honestly.

"You amaze me, Ace. For someone so...righteous, you're always so eager for blood." Vincent sits up, grabbing the folder from his desk. He licks his finger as he begins to flick through the sheets. "Father was right to keep you; you're a great asset to have. Even if your brooding is fucking unbearable. I see why Melina was so taken with you." He grins until he stops at a page. My jaw tightens at the mention of her name in his mouth. He holds out the contract, but as I move to take it, he snatches it out of reach.

"I did have this planned for Adrian, but I think you'll do a much better job." His smile widens and for a second, and I struggle to resist the urge to stab his pen deep into his eye socket.

"Oh, and Ace. I heard in the grapevine you've been receiving nighttime visits from my beloved sister." His tone changes into something cruel, possessive. Something I don't have time for.

"Not willingly," I admit.

"Is this another repeat, Ace? Do I need to remind you of what happens—" I cut him off, not wanting to relive the worst time of my life. Especially not with him.

"It isn't a repeat. I know the rules." My teeth grind together as I spit the words at him. He doesn't say anything, not right away at least. He lets the silence settle.