Chapter 07
"Take her."
Those were the words I heard before someone opened the compartment, and several men helped me sit up and gently lifted me out of the confined space. My legs were stiff from being cramped in the small area for so long, and I stumbled slightly as they supported my weight.
Compared to Truson's men, these people weren't as frightening—probably because they didn't look like bouncers and weren't carrying large, intimidating weapons. More importantly, they didn't drag me roughly or handle me with the casual brutality I had come to expect. Their touch was firm but not cruel, professional rather than sadistic.
"Sorry, but we need to cover your eyes," said a man who looked Filipino. He indeed covered my eyes with what felt like a soft cloth rather than a rough blindfold.
Someone took hold of my arm and guided me forward with surprising gentleness. The first thing I noticed when I emerged from the compartment was that there were many facilities in this place. I could hear the sounds of machinery, vehicles, and human activity all around us. There were also many people present, but strangely, none of them seemed to care about our presence.
It was as if they couldn't see us, or perhaps they were so accustomed to unusual sights that a bound woman being led through their midst didn't even register as noteworthy. The casual indifference was almost more unsettling than outright hostility would have been.
"You understand Tagalog, don't you?" the man guiding me asked in my native language.
"Umm," I responded, my voice barely above a whisper.
I nervously asked if their boss was going to kill me, the question that had been burning in my mind since I was captured.
"I don't know, but if the boss brought you here, he definitely has some way in mind to use you. At least you won't be killed, right?" he replied, though his attempt at reassurance only filled me with new anxieties.
I swallowed hard. What did he mean by "use"? Was that a good idea? My mind raced through countless "what if" scenarios until the surroundings became quiet, and I heard the sound of dripping water echoing around us.
"Where are we?" I asked. Someone spoke up and told me to be quiet.
"We're in a tunnel," came the reply.
I didn't know how many minutes we walked or how far we had traveled. I was too occupied with trying to understand our surroundings through sound alone. I could hear water flowing somewhere nearby, along with many rustling sounds that suggested we were in some kind of underground complex.
"We're here. Take her to the basement and make sure she doesn't escape," said one of the voices. That was the last thing I heard before someone lifted me and carried me like a sack of rice over his shoulder.
Basement? They weren't going to torture me, were they? Fear crept up my spine like ice water.
"Where do you think you're taking her?" a new voice interrupted.
"Sir Abbott."
The man carrying me stopped. The man carrying me said he was taking me to the basement as ordered.
"No, take her inside. Give her a damn room, for God's sake," the voice commanded with authority.
He said that Padrino hadn't ordered me to be taken to the basement. Weird? Was Padrino the name of their boss? It seemed like such an old-fashioned name. Anyway, they continued carrying me—it seemed like we entered an elevator and then climbed stairs.
The silence was profound, and there was a strange smell in the air—the scent of plants mixed with wood, as if we were in some kind of garden or greenhouse. It was oddly peaceful compared to the industrial smells of the port.
It was also strange because I couldn't hear any footsteps. I was sure there were between two and four people with me, including the one carrying me, but I really couldn't hear their footsteps at all. They moved with the silent efficiency of people trained in stealth.
The man stopped, and I heard the sound of a door opening. He set me down gently and removed the blindfold from my eyes.
A room appeared before me—complete with a bed, bathroom, and proper lighting. It was quite spacious, though my eyes hurt slightly from the sudden brightness after being in darkness for so long.
"This is a room where you can stay," said the man, though I couldn't understand him because he spoke too quickly. I only caught the word "stay."
The man who could speak Tagalog entered the room. I was somewhat shocked because now that I could see him in the light, he didn't look Filipino at all. He appeared to be pure Italian, with olive skin and sharp Mediterranean features. I only remembered him because of his distinctive hairstyle and height.
"You don't know English?" the man asked. I nodded and also mentioned that I couldn't read.
This was true because no one had ever taught me, and I had never attended school. My father had seen no value in educating a daughter he planned to use as a bargaining chip.
The man pulled out a knife and cut the bindings on my hands. The relief was immediate—my wrists were raw and sore from the restraints.
"He said this is your room while you're here. I also want to add that you can't open the door or attempt to escape if you don't want your life cut short," the man said, pointing behind him.
Three large men stood in front of the door, talking among themselves. They looked relaxed but alert, the kind of guards who were comfortable in their work because they were very good at it.
"You'll be watched by those three big guys over there," the man said, then introduced himself as Gabriel Assante.
"I'm Hilda. When will we eat? I haven't eaten almost all day," I said nervously, holding my stomach as it cramped with hunger.
"I'm already having food brought up. It'll be here soon," Gabriel said before saying goodbye and leaving the room.
I sat weakly on the edge of the bed, feeling completely drained. I touched my chest, my heart still racing. I really thought I was going to die earlier.
Soon there was a knock on the door. A man entered wearing a white polo shirt and pushing a cart laden with food.
My mouth immediately watered when I saw the abundance of food—fresh bread, pasta, what looked like roasted chicken, vegetables, and even what appeared to be dessert. It was more food than I had seen in one place in years.
He simply left the cart there and departed without a word. I immediately approached the cart and pushed it closer to the bed, marveling at the variety and quality of the meal.
Delighted, I picked up a spoon and began to eat with the desperate hunger of someone who had been denied proper nutrition for far too long. Each bite was a revelation—flavors I had never experienced, textures that delighted my palate, the simple pleasure of eating without fear or judgment.
Meanwhile, in a control room elsewhere in the building, two men stood in front of multiple monitors displaying various views of the complex.
"I'm just wondering why Padrino brought this woman into our territory," one of them mused, his eyes fixed on the screen showing Hilda eating with obvious enjoyment.
"I'm curious too," said another man as he opened the door and entered the control room. They were all looking at the same monitor showing the woman they had brought inside the building.
"Did you get any information about this woman?" asked the man who was leaning on the table with both hands, turning to look at the man who had just entered the room.
"She's from another country. I'm having difficulty getting information about her," the man replied, placing some documents on the table. "But I got a report about the people who were chasing her a few hours ago. They are Mr. Truson's men."
The two people in the room looked at him with increased interest. Truson was a name that carried weight in their world—not someone whose business they took lightly.
"Truson? Then there's a possibility that she's involved in their illegal transactions," said the man who was now sitting in a swivel chair, his fingers steepled as he considered the implications.
"How is that possible if she doesn't know how to read and she looks like a lost puppy? I have a feeling that she doesn't have a connection to them," Gabriel interjected, his voice carrying a note of protectiveness that surprised even him.
They looked at Gabriel with curiosity. Al Abbott, who was standing in front of the two men, crossed his arms and studied the younger man's face.
"Padrino saved her from those people," Gabriel said in her defense, though he wasn't entirely sure why he felt compelled to speak up for a stranger.
The three stopped their discussion when they all looked toward the glass wall. From the glass wall, red light reflected from the lighthouse in the center of the city—a signal that meant their territory had been breached.
"There's a mouse roaming in our city," Al said with dark amusement. Gabriel commented that the person seemed to have nine lives to dare enter their territory.
A man jumped from an extremely high gate and ran into the city, his movements desperate and uncoordinated. When the man looked back, he saw that those chasing him had stopped at the gate's exterior. The expressions on their faces were indescribable—a mixture of fear and relief that they didn't have to follow him into Nicastro territory.
The man stopped running and grinned when he realized he was no longer being chased by the owners of the bar near that area. He had gotten into trouble over unpaid debts and had been running for his life.
He decided to spend the night there, thinking he had found sanctuary. When he reached what appeared to be a market area, his attention was caught by a lighthouse in the center of the city. The light suddenly turned on and rotated around the entire area, bathing everything in its red glow.
In an instant, all the people in the market suddenly disappeared, melting away into the shadows with the practiced ease of people who knew exactly what that signal meant. His instincts told him something was very wrong, so he pulled out his gun—the man swallowed hard, especially when he saw the Triad symbol on one of the posts there.
The man cursed at the realization that he had entered the wrong place. He was about to run away when someone shot at his knees, the bullets finding their mark with surgical precision.
"Fuck!" he screamed, falling to the ground.
The man fired his gun wildly even though he couldn't see who was shooting at him, his shots going wide in his panic and pain.
"Carlos!" From a small shop, a young boy ran out, not understanding the danger he was putting himself in.
The boy looked around and saw the wounded man. Before the intruder could grab the child to use as a hostage—from the upper part of a building, someone jumped down with fluid grace.
The person covered the child's eyes just as the intruder's head separated from his body in a spray of blood, the execution carried out with professional efficiency.
"Carlos! Oh my God!" The child's mother arrived and hugged her son, crying and thanking the woman who had saved him.
The woman instructed her companion to retrieve the intruder's weapon and call the main office.
"Tell them that we already found him and call our troops back," the woman added, her voice calm and businesslike despite having just killed a man.
"They are fast, as expected from them," Al commented as the alarm suddenly stopped. Gabriel sat with his chin resting on his hand, looking at the lighthouse as its red light faded back to normal white.
The person who had gotten lost in their territory had been caught immediately. This wasn't new—people occasionally got lost inside their territory or genuinely wanted to die, which was why they had the audacity to enter Nicastro land.
This was the sixth time someone had entered uninvited. The area was protected by the Nicastros, and all the people living there were families of members loyal to the Triad.
The city had been built for Triad members, and everyone living there had sworn to be loyal to the Nicastro lineage and to future generations that would follow.
"Where's the cleaning team? There's garbage outside that needs their freaking attention," a woman said as she burst through the door with furrowed brows.
"They have work outside. Just call another team that's available. I saw three of them a few hours ago at the main building," Gabriel replied. The door closed again, and the three men looked at it thoughtfully.
"Who is she?" Al asked, looking at Gabriel. Al asked if the woman was new to the group because he had never seen her in that building before.
"It seems like she did something mischievous again, since this is the second time she ended up here because of her punishment," Gabriel explained. He had seen that woman before in the laboratory, and she often ran errands for their boss when Al wasn't available. She visited every corner of the city in her various duties.
Some members were sent to different fields when they were under punishment. One time when Gabriel made a mistake on a mission, he was sent to the hospital where he worked as a janitor for two weeks.
The laboratory was far from that location and was at the very end of the city. This was the first time Al had seen that woman because the laboratory was her original field, and Al had just returned from several months of missions in other countries.
---
"These are your clothes."
I looked up when Gabriel arrived carrying a paper bag. I immediately stood up from sitting on the edge of the bed and took it from him.
"How many more days do I need to stay here?" I asked Gabriel. This was already the fourth day of my stay here.
I had already told him everything I knew, including being an Alegre and the reason why Truson's men were chasing me. I had been completely honest about my situation, hoping it would help resolve my circumstances.
"When can I talk to your boss?" was my next question. I had asked for his help, yes, but that didn't mean I wanted to be imprisoned here for life.
I looked down sadly. I didn't escape from my family just to be imprisoned again in a different place.
"Boss doesn't have time. He left again today," Gabriel replied, and I could hear something in his voice—perhaps sympathy, or maybe just resignation.
I sat on the edge of the bed, hugging the paper bag to my chest.
"Boss doesn't give favors without something in return. There's definitely a big reason why he brought you here," Gabriel continued, his tone becoming more serious.
I stopped and looked at Gabriel. He said that everyone there didn't work without compensation of some kind.
I asked him what he meant by that, though I was beginning to suspect the answer would be something I didn't want to hear.
"He bought me at an auction, then brought me to this place, and in return, I had to give him my freedom and loyalty," Gabriel said matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather.
I stopped breathing when I heard that. My eyes widened, and I asked if Gabriel was okay with that arrangement.
Gabriel sat on the sofa and smiled, but there was something complex in his expression—not quite happiness, but not regret either.
"100% yes because I no longer have a family. I have nowhere to go, and in this place, I'm safe," he said, his voice carrying the conviction of someone who had found peace with his circumstances.
He rotated his finger and pointed to the window.
"All the people here are my family, and Padrino became my second father."
"All the material things that people have, I have too. I don't go hungry, and I have a home."
Gabriel also said that when something bad happened to them during missions or if they died, they had a space in that city where many people would come to remember them. They would not be forgotten or unmourned.
"You mean all of you here have no family?" I asked, trying to understand the dynamics of this strange community.
Gabriel smiled and said no. He explained that most of them there had families, but they had been abandoned and then taken in by their boss.
"There are also people in this place who are just ordinary citizens. For example, if one of the members decides to get married—if their partner agrees, that partner will also live in the city, and they will start a family here."
Gabriel explained that this was also for the safety of the partner and their future children because of the nature of their work.
I looked out the window, where I could see the entire city spread out below. From there, I could see many facilities—there was a market, and many people were going about their daily lives as if this were any normal community.
"I didn't expect that there would be a place like this in a country," I said, marveling at the scope and organization of what I was seeing.
What this meant was that in this place, the people recognized no authority other than their Padrino. It was a complete society, self-contained and self-governing, existing within but separate from the larger world outside its walls.
As I watched the people below going about their daily routines—children playing in small parks, vendors selling goods in the market, couples walking hand in hand down tree-lined streets—I began to understand that this wasn't just a criminal organization's hideout. This was a functioning community, a place where people had built lives and found belonging.
But I also understood that it came with a price—the same price Gabriel had paid, the same price everyone here had paid. Freedom in exchange for security, independence in exchange for belonging.
