Alphonse stepped beside me. “We don’t have time to waste with this,” he clipped.
I shot Dante and Liam with a glare like it could burn a hole in their head.
“Let’s move,” I instructed, leading the way down the narrow, snow-covered trail.
Each step echoed ominously, blending with the distant hoots of owls. We soon emerged from the trees into a vast farm field, moonlight spilling over the snow, glistening like a blanket of diamonds. In the distance, two guards stood watch, their silhouettes stark against the backdrop of the barn.
“Luca and Lo, you’re up,” I whispered.
Luca and Lo exchanged a quick glance, nodding in silent understanding before slipping into the shadows. Luca struck first. He landed a vicious blow to the throat of the first guard. The man gasped, eyes wide, but Luca was upon him before the second guard could react, delivering a swift, lethal finish that silenced any alarm.
The guards crumpled to the ground, and I motioned for the others to follow. “We need to move quickly. Luca and Lo, stay here with the guards and keep watch.”
Lo nodded, his expression steely, and remained firmly planted in his position, his weapon held at the ready.
“Let’s go,” I commanded Dante, Liam, Alphonse, and Matteo.
The smell of stale hay and rust filled our nostrils inside the barn. Old machinery lay strewn about, rusted and forgotten, but I had eyes only for the task at hand. My gaze soon fell upon an inconspicuous trapdoor beneath the container.
“Here,” I said, bracing myself as I shoved aside a rusted oil drum with all my strength. I bent down and opened the heavy latch. The door creaked as I pulled it open, revealing a narrow staircase leading down into the darkness.
“What the hell?” Matteo asked, glancing around nervously as though the shadows might spring to life at any moment.
“Stay sharp,” I replied.
With a shared look of resolve, we descended the stairs, each step accompanied by the echo of our own heartbeats. The air around us grew colder and more oppressive as if the very walls were closing in. The flickering beam from my flashlight barely penetrated the thick blackness, casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to writhe along the damp stone walls.
As we reached the bottom, the first thing that hit me was the metallic scent of blood, mingling with the musty air, smells of piss, and vomit, sending a jolt of dread through my veins. The sight that greeted us was nothing short of horrifying.
Matteo grimaced, his nose wrinkling against the foul stench that clung to the air. “What the hell?”
“Malik!” Dante shouted.
A figure stirred in the first cell, a man with disheveled hair and wild, unfocused eyes. He looked pale as a ghost.
“Just hang tight, we’re getting you out,” Dante reassured him, his eyes darting anxiously to the second cell. But then his expression twisted into one of horror as he beheld the bones in the corner.
“No,” Alphonse groaned.
“It’s not Gigi.” Malik’s voice came out cracked, raw with anguish.
I spun around to face him. “Who is that then? Where is Gigi?” I fired off the questions as Dante and Liam moved to help Malik to his feet.
“Valarie,” Malik rasped.
“What did you say?” Alphonse said.
“Angelica’s sister. He kept her in that cell for years. The bones… they belong to her mother.”
“What the fuck?” Matteo hissed.
The door to the cell Valarie had been held in was left ajar. Alphonse pulled the door, and it creaked open.
In the dark corner of the cell, a figure nestled into a tight ball against the rough stone wall, her form swallowed by the darkness.
Alphonse knelt beside Valarie’s unconscious body, his eyes wide with disbelief. Her skin was ghostly pale, her lips tinged a sickening shade of blue, and dark bruises covered her body.
“She’s dead,” he said a mere whisper.
