The girl wasn’t supposed to be there.
Raven had followed Dante into the derelict loading bay behind the old textile factory on the east side. She’d kept her distance, ducking behind concrete pillars and rusting machinery, heart racing. She knew she was taking a risk, but the moment Dante met with the man in the gray coat, exchanging an envelope for a coded phrase, “shipment rerouted to the villa”, she had her proof.
That's when she heard it, a whimper, muffled and weak. It came from a side door, slightly ajar. Raven didn’t think as she slipped inside.
The air was thick with mold and chemical rot. A single bulb swung overhead, casting harsh shadows. She saw the girl curled on a stained mattress in the corner, barely conscious, one arm bandaged sloppily, the other covered in bruises that
