Chapter 181: Hide and seek

Chapter 181: Hide and seek
Catherine sat rigid in the metal chair, her hands zip-tied behind the backrest. A small, black box was taped to the base of her spine, directly over a vertebrae. It was a pressure sensor, rigged to a Taser-like device. If she slumped, if she leaned forward, if she tried to stand—if she moved an inch—it sent fifty thousand volts coursing through her nervous system.

She had learned that lesson three times in the last hour. Her muscles still spasmed with the phantom echoes of the electricity, and her ribs ached from where Gabo’s men had kicked her when they dragged her from the hotel.

But the physical torture was nothing compared to the scene playing out on the dirty rug in front of her.

"Look!" Chiara giggled, holding up a cheap plastic horse Gabo had produced from his pocket. "It jumps!"

Gabo Valente sat on a crate, his suit jacket discarded, leaning forward with a smile that made Catherine’s stomach turn. To anyone else, he looked like a grandfather entertaining a child. To Catherine, he looked like a viper coiling around a rabbit… Her precious baby girl next to that psychopath.

"It does jump," Gabo cooed, reaching out to stroke Chiara’s curls.

Catherine flinched instinctively. The movement shifted her weight. The box at her spine buzzed, and a bolt of white-hot lightning tore through her body.

She bit through her lip to stifle the scream, her body going rigid, tears leaking from her eyes. She couldn't scream. If she screamed, Chiara would cry. If Chiara cried, Gabo might stop being "nice."

"Mamma?" Chiara looked up, her big dark eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay?"

Catherine forced her jaw to unclench. She tasted blood. She widened her smile, though it felt like a rictus mask. "I'm okay, baby. I'm just... Tired. Keep playing."

"Is Daddy coming?" Chiara asked, turning back to Gabo.

"Oh, yes," Gabo said, his voice smooth like oil. "Your daddy is coming. He wouldn't miss this."

He looked at Catherine then, his eyes dead and shark-like. "It will be a very interesting core-memory for your little girl."

Catherine glared at him, pouring every ounce of hatred she possessed into her gaze.

Gabo turned his attention back to the child, tilting his head. "I must say, I am growing quite fond of her. Despite the dark hair... She has your bone structure, Catherine. Your eyes."

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Chiara’s ear. Chiara smiled at him, completely oblivious to the monster touching her.

"I was going to give her the same fate I reserve for you and your husband," Gabo mused, almost to himself. "A quick exit. But looking at her now... Maybe I was hasty. In ten years, she could have a very different use for me."

Catherine’s heart hammered against her ribs, a different kind of horror washing over her—cold and absolute.

"Allegra was around that age when I started preparing her," Gabo said casually, as if discussing training a dog. "Little girls can grow very attached to those who take care of them. With the right... Guidance... They become grateful. Eager to please."

A low, guttural sound tore from Catherine’s throat. It was pure, boiling rage. "You touch her," she hissed, her voice trembling with the force of her disgust, "and I will tear your throat out with my teeth."

Gabo laughed softly. "You aren't in a position to tear anything, my dear. You’ll be dead in a few minutes. And she..." He looked at Chiara with a lingering, possessive gaze. "She could be a good investment."

"You won't live another ten minutes," Catherine spat, "much less years."

Gabo opened his mouth to reply, but a sound cut through the heavy air of the shipping container office. A heavy thud from outside. Then another.

Gabo’s smile vanished. He stood up, checking the pistol tucked into his waistband.

"That's Chiara's daddy, I suppose," Gabo said, buttoning his jacket. "Right on time."

He looked down at Catherine. "Don't worry, Mrs. Karakatsanis. I told my men to bring him in alive enough so he can see his lovely wife expire before his one functional eye. Then he will see me become his daughter’s new guardian."

Gabo patted Chiara on the head one last time. "Stay here, little one. Uncle Gabo has to go say hello to a visitor."

He walked out of the metal door, the heavy lock clicking shut behind him.

The moment he was gone, the air shifted. The oppressive evil lifted slightly, leaving only panic in its wake.

Chiara stood up, running over to Catherine, holding the plastic horse. "Mamma, look! Uncle Gabo gave me—"

"Chiara, listen to me," Catherine interrupted, her voice urgent but hushed. She was crying now, the pain in her spine agonizing, but she kept her voice steady. "We are going to play a game. Okay? A new game."

Chiara’s eyes lit up. "Hide and seek?"

"Yes," Catherine choked out, smiling through the tears. "Hide and seek. But this is the quiet version. The super quiet version."

She moved her head toward the heavy metal desk Gabo had been using. There was a cabinet underneath, rusted but large enough for a small child.

"I need you to go into that cabinet," Catherine whispered. "And I need you to stay there. Even if you hear loud noises. Even if you hear Mommy talking. You don't come out until I say the magic word."

"What's the magic word?" Chiara whispered back, conspiring.

"Strawberries," Catherine said, a fresh wave of tears spilling over. "The word is strawberries. Now go. Fast, baby. Go."

Chiara nodded solemnly. She scrambled over to the desk, opened the metal door, and squeezed herself into the dark space among the old ledgers and dust. She pulled the door shut, leaving only a tiny crack.

Catherine was alone.

She tried to shift, to see if she could reach the zip ties on the chair leg, but the sensor triggered immediately.

Her head snapped back, her teeth clacking together as the voltage seized her muscles. She groaned, gasping for air, her body shaking uncontrollably. She couldn't move. She was trapped in the chair, a sitting duck.

Then… Gunshots. Loud and close, just outside the room.

Catherine squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself not to sob aloud, terrified that Chiara would hear her and come out.

"Please," she whispered to the empty room. "Please, God. To any god. Save her. Don't let him take her. Don't let him touch her."

The sounds of violence grew louder outside—shouting, the crunch of metal, the distinct roar of automatic fire.

Then, the lock on the door shattered.