frustrated as Ivan about this. “I don’t think…I mean, I don’t think she is equipped to be on her own.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Ivan growls.
Gabe takes a deep breath, struggling to find the right words.
“Ivan—boss,” he corrects, “this girl is in bad shape. Physically…as well as mentally. When I ask her what I can do to help her, she tells me she wants to die.”
Ivan pushes off the table and gets up. I sigh, but follow his lead. I slip back into my dress shoes and button-up shirt, but I’m not putting that fucking jacket back on. Ivan doesn’t say shit to me about it either, thankfully.
We take the elevator down to the basement and exit into a long hallway.
When we pass the first door, I come to a sudden halt. It’s a big iron door with a food slot, like a prison door. Next to the door is a large window that allows me look into the cell that holds nothing but a dirty mattress.
The room, if you can even call it one, contains four white walls without windows, a cold concrete floor, and nothing else. My mind flickers to Violet and the thought of her being locked up in a place like this. It’s so absurd, it’s hard to imagine, but when I meet my brother’s gaze and see the look of guilt and shame one his face, I know it’s true.
I shake my head, trying to get the image of sweet, gentle Violet locked up in this hell hole out of my mind. We continue walking down the hallway, passing three more of those same cells, before Gabe stops in front of one. I clench my jaw, my gut tightening.
“She has been here for a week and hasn’t eaten anything. I’ve tried to bring her food from the canteen…even candy bars. She won’t eat.”
I look through the large window into the cell. It looks like all the other cells, the only difference is the small women curled up on the mattress.
She’s turned away from us, a mop of dark brown hair cascading across the pillow tucked beneath her head. My eyes roam over her tiny form. A long, simple dress covers most of her body. Some of her back is exposed and what I find when I look at the creamy white skin makes me want to punch the concrete wall before me.
“Are those whip marks?” Ivan sounds as if he’s appalled.
“Yes, she was brought in with them. I’ve tried tending to the wounds, but she doesn’t want anyone to touch her.”
“Probably because someone beat the fuck out of her,” I say through clenched teeth. Both Gabe and Ivan’s eyes swing to mine as if they’re shocked to hear me say something. My heart pounds furiously. If her parents did this to her, I want to take a belt and beat the fuck out of them until they feel the same pain.
“The first few days, she just cried and screamed, begging me not to hurt her when I came into the cell…even though I told her I wasn’t going to. But now…she just lies there. Almost catatonic.”
“And she doesn’t want to leave?” Ivan asks once more.
“No,” Gabe answers with a shake of his head, his eyes moving back toward the cell. Ivan runs a hand through his hair, frustration riddling his features.
“Well, we can’t fucking leave her here. I promised Violet I would shut this shitshow down. There is no way I’m going to go back on my word to her.”
I stare straight ahead at the tiny body lying on the mattress. The raised black and blue marks on her back make the acid in my stomach rise into my throat. She needs someone to save her, to put all her broken pieces back together, and I wish I was a good enough man to do that.
Silence settles over us as we all look at her through the small window. The clearing of Ivan’s throat breaks the silence.
“Would you take her? Until we can get something figured out?” I blink, pulling my gaze away from her to my brother.
“Are you seriously asking me to take her home with me?” I’m surprised. I’m the least responsible person ever. I fight for a fucking living, I fuck everything with a vagina, and I’m pretty sure I’m addicted to Adderall. Giving me this woman—this girl—is probably worse than sending her wherever he planned to fucking send her.
Ivan gives me an impassive look. “Yeah, I’m fucking asking