Page 35

35

Layla

I would like to say things are always better after a good night’s sleep. But whoever made up that saying can sod right off.

I do not feel better.

I feel worse.

I’m a mess, with my head working through last night’s events trying to piece it all together and work out where it all went wrong all over again.

My back hurts, my heart hurts, everything hurts.

“Layla, answer your phone!” Katy shouts from the living room.

I have multiple missed calls from Luca.

The sound of her ringtone goes off as mine continues to buzz. She appears in the doorway. “Must be urgent if Roman is calling me.”

I decline the call, not quite ready to face him yet, but it starts ringing almost immediately. “What part of ghosting do you not understand?” I say, turning it to silent and throwing it across the bed.

“Yeah, she’s here.” Katy appears in my doorway again. “In bed, hang on, hang on, you need to slow down. What do you mean, how do you treat severe dehydration?” She pauses and I frown. “I know, Roman, but I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

She pauses again, listening.

“I’m not giving you sass, you’re not making any sense. No, I won’t put Layla on, you called me. God, you’re an arsehole sometimes. Let me put you on speaker.”

I narrow my eyes before mouthing No , but before I can fight the inevitable Katy has flopped onto the bed holding the phone between us.

“Start from the beginning,” she instructs.

“I need to know how to treat severe dehydration, then I need you both to get dressed and be ready to leave the house in ten minutes, bring a spare pair of clothes.”

“What?” I reply.

“Jesus Christ,” he says.

“I can practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.” Katy whispers.

“Layla.” Something in his tone kills my laughter. “We need you here. We need your skills. It will take you an hour to get here, and the girls are in dire need of medical attention.”

“Girls?” I ask. “What girls?”

“No time. How do we start to treat severe dehydration?”

“They need fluids, an IV, and a hospital, Roman.”

“Not going to happen, we don’t have that stuff, not yet, what can we give them?”

“What the hell?” Katy asks.

“If I can get you what you need, can you help?”

“Of course.” I reply, not even having to think.

“What?” Katy exclaims.

“What?” I retort. “People need help, I’m not exactly going to say no.”

“No, but—” Katy stops herself, “Why the spare clothes?”

“Because Duchess made a mess.”

“Give them water, but don’t let them glug it, it needs to be sipped and controlled.”

“Okay. Send me a list of what you need it will be here by the time you arrive.”

“Rome, we need you.” Luca’s voice is in the distance, and I can hear for the first time the chaos of the background noise.

“Ten minutes,” Roman says before hanging up.

We sit in silence staring at the phone. What are we about to walk into?

The car twists and turns around corners, through an industrial estate hugging the river Thames. Offices, warehouses, commercial units pepper the roads, and we both sit in apprehensive silence as the black Mercedes takes us to where I think the warehouse I was taken to before is.

I sent a message to Roman full of items that are needed to treat acute dehydration, along with additional items for general first aid. Antibiotics, fluids, oral rehydration solutions, although I also told Roman how to make this if they had salt and sugar.

We’ve heard nothing from them since, even though Katy has messaged Roman and called him multiple times. I even bit the bullet and called Luca, but nothing.

I know deep down that regardless of what happened last night, Luca would not be bringing us into a situation that was dangerous.

So, it begs the question, what the hell has happened?

We are getting closer to the riverfront, broken windows dot the warehouses, the road’s full of potholes and everything seems to hold a light layer of dust and grime, making me feel dirty just looking at it.

The car hits a larger pothole and we both bounce awkwardly in the back, grabbing hold of the armrests.

“Jesus Christ, my arsehole,” Katy says, her legs bouncing up and down. “I’m nervous, are you nervous?”

“Yeah.” I move to the centre seat looking out the front window as the car pulls up to a stop. “Wait, did you do anal on a first encounter?”

“Fuck off,” she says, grinning at me.

We pull up to a warehouse that looks in better shape than the others, along with parked cars, one of which I’m assuming belongs to Luca.

To the right a flatbed lorry with a shipping container stands, its red faded paint and rusted sides sits imposing like a beached whale, alone, the back doors open.

“So, I guess we’re here then,” Katy says, glancing across.

“I guess so.” We open the car doors, both of us doing it slowly waiting for something to jump out at us.

I stand next to Katy, both of us looking up at the vastness of the building, the double doors open, the sounds from inside starting to become louder the closer we get.

“What is that smell?” Katy asks, but I already know.

I may not have been a qualified doctor, but the flesh of a decaying body is a smell unlike anything.

“Oh God,” I say, a ball of dread falling into my stomach, my heart rate increasing, muscles tensing for fight or flight. “I don’t know about this.”

“What do you mean?” Katy asks, looking at my face, which I’m sure is now devoid of any colour.

“Layla.” Isabella’s voice comes from inside, and she soon appears in the large double doors. Her usually immaculate self is dishevelled, her blonde hair falling out of the bun, the strands sticking to her face, which is grimy.

“Is that blood?” I ask.

“Fuck me, she looks feral,” Katy whispers, but I’m not thinking about that, I’m thinking about how her hands shake, and my eyes fall back to the blood.

“Whose blood is that?” I ask, my panic building.

Before Katy has even moved, I’m standing next to Isabella gripping her hands. “Whose blood is that?” I ask again.

Realisation dawns on her face as her eyes meet mine. “No. He’s fine. Come on, this way.”

I cross into the warehouse, the smell of body odour overwhelming followed swiftly by the sounds of people in distress.

The warehouse is vast, the main room double vaulted, with cranes and loading equipment along with machinery and towers of shelves. A staircase hugs the right side, which leads up to a bank of rooms.

It’s old, but along with the smell of bodies is the underlying scent of paint. Windows let a hazy light in, the sunshine trying to break through the clouds and my eyes fall to women. Around fifteen of them, some on chairs, others on the floor, all of them looking dishevelled, unwashed, and sick.

“Oh my God,” Katy exclaims, her hand over her mouth. “What happened to them?”

Roman looks up from where he stands in front of a table where all the items are laid out perfectly.

“They’re all dehydrated,” Isabella explains. “We followed your instructions, but some are really sick and can barely respond. We tried to make them as comfortable as possible.”

“Okay.” I nod, gulping. I’m a receptionist, not a medic.

My heart beats so rapidly it feels like it’s about to jump out my chest, my hands shake as adrenaline courses through my system.

“We have everything you said, come on, please.”

Luca appears from one of the side rooms tucked behind the staircase.

His suit jacket is off, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, tie removed. He nods at me, his eyes dark and bloodshot. He doesn’t stop, instead walking straight past us and out to the front, and I’d be lying if it didn’t hurt.

“Levi and he are dealing with the container,” Duchess explains. “It’s … a mess.”

“What happened here?” I ask as I start going through the supplies.

“We were expecting a shipment, we thought guns, but…”

“Women.”

“It wasn’t what was agreed,” she explains. “It wasn’t what any of us were expecting.”

I guess whatever passes on my features has her explaining more, even though I didn’t ask for it.

“Luca and Levi are dangerous men, but even they have rules, a limit.”

“Mmm.” I grab the IV bags and pass them to her. “Lay them out next to each of the women.”

“What can I do?” Katy asks, joining us.

“Grab some gloves, you’re going to pass me everything I need.”

She places the duffel bag on the floor.

“Get changed, Isabella. You being covered in blood will do nothing to reassure these girls.” I know my tone isn’t friendly. But I’m pissed.

Pissed off that I’ve somehow been brought into this scenario, and I’m really fucking pissed off with myself at the fact that Luca didn’t even acknowledge me when he saw me, and it hurt.

I have got my priorities all fucking wrong.

“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “Let’s get to work.”