The King's Executioner | Mafia Dark Romance | Book 2

33. The Golden Child

Alejandro

Would we ever heal - Sofia's words bore a hole in my heart and soul. She attempted to protect herself from any more hurt.

Though I knew no words could heal her wounds, none were powerful enough, yet some deeds had the power to mitigate her pain. Lessened her suffering.

Unlike in the past, I wasn't scared. I wasn't going to abandon her anymore. I needed to make good on the promise I made to her - the promise to always be there.

"Where are we going?" Throughout our drive to the outhouse, Sofia kept questioning me. Retaining my silence through her various tones and doe-eyed looks was torture.

We parked and walked into the outhouse that had served as a part of the Moralez safehouse locations for time unknown.

Sofia studied the long, marble-floored hallway and the intricately designed plaster carvings on the ceiling. Her head twisted like that of a parrot, checking the bright chandelier that hung at the entrance to the living room and back at me.

"Whose house are we in?" she asked. "It's breathtaking."

"Ours," I answered. "We are in our house."

A smile emerged from the corner of her lips but disappeared quickly when Jamila - the caretaker - dressed in a white checker dress walked toward us. She smiled at me, her knees readying to bow.

"Sir, Madam, welcome." Her mossy eyes darted between me and Sofia while her fingers fidgeted between themselves. "Nobody told us that you were coming."

"It was an abrupt plan, Jamila. Don't worry about it. You can tell everyone to continue with their chores. We are not here to meet anyone specifically."

With the nod, Jamila walked away.

Sofia walked ahead and turned, halting my steps as she placed her hands over my chest. "Al, what are we doing here and who have we come to meet?"

My lips turned inwards, trying hard to suppress the emerging smile. Holding her elbows, I redirected her towards the end of the hall, turning left.

In the narrower lane there, a tiny flickering chandelier bathed the place in a warm, orange glow. At the end of it, we stood in front of a door from where emerged sounds of laughter and hoots.

Sofia moved ahead after my nod, twisting the doorknob twice and pushing it open.

Women in all shades of bright-colored attire occupied the chairs and the floor, holding onto their beers and snacks with their eyes glued in front. A football match was live on the big television. Someone muted the game while the rest of the troops watched me and Sofia as if we entered their territory.

Jamila, who silently walked behind us, got inside the room, dismissively waving her arms.

"Sorry, Mr. Moralez but I thought that you'd be staying in the common room." With a swish of her hands, she instructed the other girls to stand. "Ladies, this is Alejandro and Sofia Moralez. They are the ones who got you here."

Sofia turned, holding my hand and walking me outside. "Al, who are these women? Please tell me before I make a fool of myself, talking."

My head hung low as guilt braided into my bones.

"These are the woman we rescued from the allies, Sof... Many of them were sold off. We got intel about it and saved them before they were sent across the borders for..."

Regret mocked me to say it. To admit my mistake.

I was the reason many of these women had to sell their bodies for food, for survival. I was the reason, many wouldn't be able to forget the rape and torture they suffered.