Page 115 of Depths of Destruction

My mind is still fuzzy from whatever they hit me with, and I can't see, but there is no doubt. Naomi's shirt is in shreds.

I'm not sure what else to do besides continue to hold her tight and shush her. I can't figure out if she's bleeding anywhere, but her skin over time becomes stickier and the liquid feels thicker.

It's drying.

For some reason, I hum the tune she did when she was trying to get me to open my eyes, and her cries start to dwindle.

For hours we travel. The darkness never lightens. I sit with my back on the wall and Naomi in my arms, humming and rocking her.

What did they do to her?

The anger inside me is torrential. It grips my soul, feeding my rage, pulling the devil that exists in me to the surface.

In the depths of destruction, there is no moral right or wrong.

My angel is wounded. She's frozen in her shock, and I don't know what happened.

My mind wanders. The scenarios that play out in my head I cannot speak of, and I try to turn them off but can't.

And all I seek to do is kill.

But not just with a bullet.

My need to bestow pain upon whoever hurt Naomi is a pinball bouncing in every atom of my body. And not an eye for an eye, but tenfold.

We come to a stop, and Naomi freezes, then begins to whimper again.

I hold her tighter, trying to figure out what to do to protect her, when they open the door. I have no weapons or intel on what's on the other side, and a wrong move could mean our demise.

But the door doesn't open. We sit for a long time with the flow of conversations of men speaking a language I don't know drifting to us, and I once again vow to learn the language, so I'm never again in the dark.

Laughter from the other side of the metal mocks me, stirring my blood. It bubbles and stews with a vengeance so raw, I hold myself back from banging on the wall and screaming for them to be men and let me out.

Naomi's fingers dig into my chest, and tears soak my shirt.

Doors slam and we begin another long, bumpy journey.

My guess is several hours pass. Naomi slowly tilts her head up. "A... Andre."

"Yeah, baby?"

"I..." Her body shakes again, and more tears fall.

I put my lips on hers while shushing her.

What did they do to her?I ask for the millionth time.

I wish I could see her.

She presses her face into the curve of my neck and hums.

I don't know what to do, and my fury is so potent, I'm worried I'm going to scare her if I don't figure out how to control it.

At least, for now.

So I hum with her, holding her tight, shielding her from the bumps of the trip. The entire time, I try to stop the quivering of rage in my belly.

Whatever they've done to her, they will pay. It won't be merciful, or quick. I will make sure their death is worse than the hell they are going to.