Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Evan had called Aria, and Noelle could hear the sirens approaching now. But what could they do from there? Watch in helpless horror along with them? They had no idea where the two men were. They were free, though. Safe. Noelle knew from experience. They had won the game.
And they also had no idea of the location where naked, caged women were hanging from the rafters and a horde of men in tuxedos had collapsed on the floor, their hands gripping their throats as though they’d been poisoned.
Evan continued to hold his phone to the screen, his hands trembling as he filmed what was going on. They didn’t know if the live stream of what they were watching would be saved somewhere once it was over or whether it would be gone forever, so they made sure to capture it. Made sure that they could provide still shots of every man in there, both struggling on the floor or dead. Insurance. These were the men who had caged them, the ones who paid to victimize and torture them and many others. No cover-up would be possible. What had happened in the dark would be brought to the light. They’d make sure of it.
Evan continued to film the screen even when the police arrived, swarming the residence, and then they watched as a man in a server’s uniform picked one lock after another with some tool Noelle could not see well enough to identify. He freed the naked women in the cages, untied them, and removed their gags, as the men behind them continued to vomit and seize and then grow still, one after the next. The server kept his face directed away from the camera so she couldn’t see him as he let the women out of their cages, and then together, they all stumbled toward the exit, the man pulling what looked like red velvet tablecloths off the tables and tossing them to the women.
“Six people, five wrapped in bright red,” Aria was saying into her radio to the police helicopters she’d dispatched. “They left a building. They’re running. Within a five-mile radius of this address.” They had to be, Noelle prayed. Vitucci had only left an hour before. Whatever building he was in wasn’t far.
Noelle turned her face into Evan’s shoulder, crying quietly. So much death, so much sickness. Somehow, inside, even though she didn’t know all the particulars, she knew that this was the final battle. And yet, even so, despair flowed through her along with the rage. She lifted her head and made herself watch them die. Rome was falling, and she had to bear witness.
She had to know that evil eventually ended. The visions in front of her were horrifying, but they were also a complicated form of justice, and watching it unfold was going to help her heal, help her unravel her grief.
It. Was. Over. She glanced up at Evan to see his eyes trained on the screen, too, and despite her raging emotions, the one that glowed brightest was her love for him. And she vowed with everything in her to keep that glow front and center, no matter the darkness that threatened to descend in the wake of this horror.
We leave here whole.
We leave here together.
Her gaze moved back to Vitucci as he walked slowly through the dozens of bodies, maneuvering around some, stepping on the throats of others, pausing and leaning closer to a few faces before their bodies went still. She had the notion he’d wanted those particular men to see his face in their final moments.
She watched the man who had staged this moment and so many others. She wondered what his real name was, the man who was some strange and elusive mixture of evil and goodness, revenge and righteousness. Both a sociopath and a savior. She knew suddenly and clearly that the event she was watching would go down in history, as would he. She wondered if he’d be called a villain or a hero. Even she wasn’t sure, and he’d helped save her life and that of the man she loved standing beside her.
Sirens began wailing in the distance. A limping Vitucci approached the old man in the wheelchair slowly. He was the only one not on the floor. Whatever poison had been administered, the old man hadn’t consumed any.
Vitucci slowly wrapped his hands around the frail man’s neck and leaned closer, whispering something in his ear. The man began to shake but not with fear. With rage. His eyes bugged out, a hellish wail coming from his mouth, and his clawlike hands raised as he uselessly attempted to fight back. The sounds of helicopters could be heard in the background now too. Vitucci leaned back, the old man’s face going a deep shade of red as he squeezed. The old man stared up at Vitucci, still defiant even as death’s shadowy figure swooped nearer. “Caspar,” he wheezed.