Page 9 of Tristano

“You are no good to them dead, and that’s what is going to happen if you don’t take care of yourself. You can’t help others if you aren’t helping yourself.”

He’s right. I know he’s right, but every time I hear about another girl being taken, all I can think about is her.

My angel of a girl who was taken from her home and plunged into hell. My girl who didn’t let her circumstances pull her down. Instead, she’s used them to prosper. To be a better person for it.

She had that opportunity because I was there to help her. What if I’m too late for these other women? What if I don’t save them?

“Okay. Fine. I’ll rest.” I start setting up my code to keep collecting data while I take a nap.

“Not in the bunkroom. I want you to go home, eat, shower, then go to sleep. If you are here when I get here at six in the morning, I will be pulling your ass down to the gym to spar for two hours without mitts. Got it?”

I rub my shoulder as the phantom pain from the last time I sparred with Enzo triggers. He’s no joke in the ring. He can beat the best of them.

“Fine. I’ll go home and go to bed like a good boy, daddy.”

“I swear to Jesus,” he mutters as he collects his things.

He waits for me to finish up before walking out with him. We separate on the street, him going home to his family while I go to my empty home.

I know I’m trying my best, but going home seems like a cop-out.

All I can keep thinking is what if my best isn’t good enough?

ChapterThree

The first thing I notice as I start to come to is the crying.

My brain is foggy trying to catch up with reality.

Who’s crying? Did something happen to me while I was undercover?

The next thing I notice is that I’m freezing, and I can feel the cold concrete underneath me. I keep my breathing even as I take stock of everything else. I feel something attached to my wrists. My head pounds and everything is distorted.

How long have I been out?

The sobs get louder, and ever so slowly, I peel my eyes open far enough to see out but closed enough to still appear asleep.

I push down the fear as I take in the cement room with women chained to the walls.

Not all are women.

Some are much younger.

Oh fuck me running.

Some of my cellmates look strung out, some are awake while others are sleeping.

I pray they are fucking sleeping.

Even the ones not moving are chained to the walls. None of us have very many clothes on. Actually, it seems like we are all wearing hospital gowns.

What’s the last thing you remember, Serena? Think.

I remember finishing up an undercover case. Then I was booked, but only so that I could talk to Uncle Ben. I remember him telling me to leave it alone. I was planning to do as he asked, but I couldn’t.

So, like the idiot I am, I went on my own.

“W-why a-are her lips blue?” a young voice stutters.

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