But Mischa backed away and began screaming, “Don’t touch me,” in Russian, repeating the command hysterically. She tried to strike out at Doc a few times, but she was too weak.
“Oh no, little mouse. Please don’t,” Summer’s small voice begged.
“Please, be careful. Her back hurts.” Winter’s voice trembled with a distinct Southern twang you find down south in America.
“Taylor, my bag. Now.” Doc’s voice was firm and in control. Mischa rolled herself into a ball.
“Mama, Papa. I’m so sorry,” Mischa wailed over and over, going back and forth between Russian and English.
From this position, the full extent of her injuries was highlighted. She had bruises and marks down the entire backside of her body. Doc met my eyes briefly before she dug around in the bag I’d handed her, bringing out a small syringe.
She lifted Mischa’s arm, the fight in her suddenly gone as she lost herself to grief. Quickly locating a vein, Doc administered the sedative. A few seconds later, the drug took effect, and the tired girl went lax, succumbing to the medication.
“What the hell happened to these girls, Taylor?” Doc hissed before picking up Mischa. “Girls, please follow me.”
I didn’t answer, as I had no way to put it into words. She took them down the hall to the rooms I’d set up for them. I took a minute to collect myself, thankful no one could see because damned if tears weren’t streaming down my face. Knowing Doc would have questions, I tempered my emotional response for later and went to help.
Doc took Mischa into the room and gently positioned her on her stomach. The girls remained outside in the hall. There were two rooms on each side. I was about to tell them to pick a room when Winter once again spoke up.
“Autumn, you’re on that side next to Spring. Go inside now and change as Doc asked you to. Summer, we’re on this side of the hallway.”
Autumn blinked rapidly again and nodded. She glanced at Mischa’s door before turning the handle to her own. Once I knew they were all inside their rooms, I made myself go in and see how Doc was managing. I didn’t make it a foot in the room before her eyes flared in anger.
“If you don’t kill the motherfucker who did this, I swear I’ll kill you myself. Who does this? How sick of a fuck do you need to be?” She gently cleaned Mischa’s wounds, her anger defusing as she concentrated on the task. “You should have prepared me. I…I…She’s a fucking child. I thought this was an adult operation. What else are you keeping from me? What about the others? This one doesn’t seem to have any signs of recent sexual assault. Damn it, speak to me, Taylor.”
The room spun as I rushed to the adjacent bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before I threw up. I sent a silent prayer to God, or whoever might be listening, to make me strong enough to handle whatever Doc found out.
I wasn’t an idiot. The chances of these girls not having been assaulted were slim to none, but I hadn’t let my mind dwell there. Now, though, I would have to face the reality, whatever that might be.
Doc came into the bathroom a few minutes later. “Go debrief the men. I will watch over her. She’ll sleep through the night.”
I nodded and made my way to the room over the garage, thankful for the reprieve. I needed to speak with Stevenson and find out what happened to the man.
Chapter 6
Owen Taylor
Successes and Failures
Atense atmosphere greeted me. My eyes met Stevenson’s, and the inner turmoil he was struggling with was etched into every crease in his face. My concern for him and the remaining team members increased as I noticed the bottle of gin in the center of the table. Stevenson’s troubled expression, coupled with his trembling hands, told me he was beating himself up.
“It’s a Four Pillars night?” I surmised.
Clocking in at a powerful 117.6 proof, it’s one of the strongest gins in the world. Grabbing the empty glass in the center of the table, I poured myself one.
Raising it, I toasted the men. “To tonight’s successes and failures. We accomplished the most important part of the operation.” I sipped the gin, took a seat, and sighed at the remarkably smooth texture of it.
A somber silence settled over the room, the weight of what had transpired lingered. Leaning forward, I tried to keep my voice calm, but the urgency was still there. “Stevenson, I need to know everything. What the hell happened?”
His face paled, and his voice was laced with regret. “He took the coward’s way out, is what happened. He realized he was cornered and knew he’d be tortured for information, so he chose death over betrayal. He shot himself before I could make my move. I underestimated him. Who the fuck are these people, Owen? Because he was obviously protecting someone. This operation stinks of dark, secret-elite shit.”
“From what I’ve been able to gather, Richard Sallow, the sadistic son of a bitch, was operating under an alias. His true identity is unknown, but he works for a secret organization, so kudos for figuring that out. The intel I’ve collected on him leads me to believe he was raised away from any type of society that could identify him. He’s part of a shadow network that provides a host of unthinkable atrocities for the powerful—the elite men and women of the world.” I paused, my fist clenching as anger and determination coursed through me.
“And Sallow’s boss? Who is he?” Stevenson asked.
“That’s the question that’s been haunting me for some time now. I may have lost the only person who could shed light on him, but it won’t end there. I’ll follow every lead and turn over every stone until I uncover the truth. These girls deserve justice, and I won’t rest until I’ve ripped out the boss’s heart with my own two hands.”
The other men nodded in agreement, and a deeper resolve seeped into my bones. I had six months to spend with Mischa before I had to leave her. This small window had been granted to me, but ultimately, it was my job to determine the mastermind behind the darkness and exact revenge. At the end of our time, she was to begin again like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis.
