Chapter 31

In the bustling streets of Dublin a car was moving with a blasting speed. The car smelled of petrol and old leather, the kind that made your head feel heavy if you breathed too deeply. The little girl was wedged between the two men in the backseat, her small hands clenched into the hem of her dress, knuckles white. Her sobs were sharp and panicked, cutting through the low hum of the engine.

"Momma! I-I want to go! My M-Momma!" Little Aria cried out painfully.

She was so scared of the men beside her.

She had never been with anyone except her momma, Nitya and her neighbouring friend Sophia. That was her small world. She knows no other person than them. Those really intimidating and unknown men scared her till her core. Even if she was so young she sensed the danger through their rough actions and forceful, tight hold. She just wanted to go and hide her momma's arms.

"Suficiente." one of the men snapped, his voice low but edged with steel.

(Translation: Enough.)

She didn't understand the words, only the sound. Her crying only grew louder, hiccupping and breathless.

The man in the front seat turned around then. He didn't shout. He didn't need to. His eyes alone were cold enough, unblinking, stripping away any illusion of safety. He leaned closer, invading her space, his shadow swallowing her tiny frame. She tried to lean backward feeling his getting closer to her but the man from earlier put a firm hand on her small back restraining her from getting back.

"If you don't stay quiet, things will get very bad. Very fast." he said slowly.

He said those words in a simpler way to make her understand. Another man reached over and slammed his palm against the door beside her head. The sharp bang echoed inside the car like a gunshot.

She froze. Her cry broke off mid-sound, strangled into silence. Her eyes widened, glassy with terror, breath trapped in her chest. She pressed herself back into the seat, as if she could disappear into it, lips trembling but making no sound.

"Good." the man in the driver seat muttered, turning back around.

The rest of the drive passed in a suffocating quiet, even though her faint sobbing could be heard clearly. She was petrified. The city lights thinned, replaced by long, dark stretches of road. She didn't move. She barely breathed. Her small hands trembled, her chubby cheeks fully wet of tears and tiny button nose was red due to sniffing again and again. She looked like a little broken mess which could melt anyone's heart but those men beside her.

When the car finally stopped, the engine died with a soft click that felt far too loud. One man opened the door and lifted her out as though she weighed nothing at all. She didn't struggle. Fear had locked her limbs tight. The base was hidden, concrete walls, dim lighting, the air thick with silence and authority. Their footsteps echoed as they moved down a narrow hallway. At the far end, a door stood closed, guarded by shadows.

They entered inside and placed her gently almost mockingly so- onto a wide leather chair tucked into the corner. It was soft, oversized, swallowing her small body. The contrast only made it worse. She clenched her hands around the jacket, eyes darting around the room, searching for something familiar and finding nothing. She looked down in her lap as if scared to make eye contact with any of them.

"Stay." one of them warned, pointing a finger at her.

She nodded quickly, too afraid to do anything else. The three men exchanged a glance, then turned and walked away, their boots echoing as they headed down the hallway. The base was quieter than usual. Not silent, Zavier never allowed true silence but subdued, as if even the walls had learned restraint.

The lights were dimmed to their lowest operational glow, long shadows stretching across stone floors polished smooth by years of boots and bloodless orders. Zavier stood near the far end of the chamber, in one of the rooms, hands clasped behind him. He had been waiting. Not impatiently. He did not pace. He did not check the time. He simply waited, the way predators did, the way storms gathered strength without movement.

At the very end, under a single flickering light, one of them stopped and raised a hand to knock. When they didn't get any answer they understood their boss in inside. Then the door slowly opened. He heard them before he saw them. Footsteps three sets. One uneven. Too light. Too frantic. Zavier turned. They stood straight in front of him with their head bowed in respect.

"Jefe ella esta aqui." One of the men said without looking at him.

(Translation: Boss she's here.)

His cold gaze roamed over three of them but he didn't say anything. He started walking out of that room and the three of them followed him. They have kept her in the previous room where they were before leaving for her abduction. Zavier walked through the hallway, his boots clicking faintly against the floor. When he reached in front of that room, one of them opened the door for him.

He entered inside silently. Very silently. Little Aria's gaze went on him and she flinched seeing a new man in front of her. Those men closed the door behind them gaining her attention. Zavier's stormy dark gray eyes stilled on her, the moment her entered inside the room. They brought her wrapped in a man's jacket that swallowed her small frame whole. Her curls were tangled, her cheeks flushed from crying, eyes swollen and glassy. She was not screaming anymore. That was worse.

He looked at her intensely, she wasn't looking like a three year old. She looked so much younger and small than a three year old. She looked so untouched, so fragile and like a chubby doll sitting on the chair. Hidden in a man's jacket. She looked adorable but not to the men stood behind him with their eyes cold and mocking. Aria whimpered slowly looking all the tall and scary men present in the room looking at her, like they would eat her alive.

Her sobs had dwindled into quiet, broken hiccups- breaths that stuttered as if her body no longer trusted air. One small hand clutched the front of the jacket like it was the only thing keeping her together. Her small feet couldn't even reach the edge of the chair. She was completely swallowed by the chair kept there for men who came there to discuss business, weapons and what not unlike her small and delicate form, only made for spreading light.

As he was looking at her intensely suddenly his stormy gaze stopped on her left cheek.

And on her left cheek had a dark red handprint. Perfect. Clear. Too large. Too much visible on her skin. It looked like a taint on her innocence. It looked too painful for a small, little thing like her. Zavier's world suddenly narrowed. He tilted his head slightly towards the men stood a few feet away. One of them bent slightly, as if understanding his silent question already.

"Ella luchó duro, los niños tienen garras." He said, attempting casual.

(Translation: She fought hard, kids got claws.)

Zavier didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the mark. Something didn't sit right to him. The hand print was already darkening, skin tender and swelling. Five fingers, a thumb imprint just below her eye. Someone of them had struck her. Hard. Something hot and unfamiliar coiled in his chest. Not anger. Not yet. Recognition. Aria lifted her head slightly then, yes darting across the dark room until they landed on him again.

He looked like a devil standing in a hell. She froze. Her breathing hitched again. She was getting more scared by each passing second. She shrank backward instinctively, pressing herself deeper into the jacket, as if trying to disappear into fabric. She closed her eyes tightly as if it would disappear them or her from the room. Fresh wave of tears rolled down her eyes on her chubby cheeks making her looking broken and fragile.

"M-Momma." She whispered in her quivering voice.

The word his Zavier like a blade under the ribs. Somehow. The room waited. Zavier raised one hand slowly.

"Retroceder." He said quietly.

(Translation: Back away.)

The men obeyed immediately, lowering their head. Zavier took two steps closer to her. Then stopped. He was close enough now to see the tremor in her fingers. They had settled her onto a wide leather chair near the wall- one used for meetings, not interrogations. She looked completely out of the place, just like she didn't belong there.

She perched on the edge, small feet sprawled, body curled inward.

The jacket slipped slightly. The way her jaw froze to keep her teeth from chattering. The rawness around her eyes where tears had been wiped away too roughly.

And that mark. Something twisted sharply inside him. His jaw clenched hard as if it would break soon.

"¿Quién la tocó?" He asked.

(Translation: Who touched her?)

The question was soft. Deadly. The men exchanged glances. One of them- Raúl, shifted his weight. Suddenly he started looking nervous, the mocking and arrogance from earlier started slipping away from his demeanor. The way Zavier asked the question, he understood that something was wrong. The boss didn't look pleased with his actions.

"No dejaba de gritar. Yo simplemente..." he said defensively.

(Translation: She wouldn't stop screaming. I just---)

Zavier looked at him. Just looked. Raúl stopped talking. Zavier turned his gaze back to the child.

"What's your name?" He asked.

His voice had changed. Not gentle. Not cruel. Measured. Aria looked at him, eyes wide. She was scared of him, but she thought that if she would answer he would hurt her. She looked at him contemplating whether to answer or not while Zavier stood there patiently waiting for her answer.

"A-Aria." She whispered slowly. He nodded once after registering her small voice.

"Aria." He repeated, tasting the sound of her name on his tongue. She flinched at her own name on his tongue.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asked.

Her lower lip trembled and tears filled in her eyes to the brim after recalling the hard slap that man struck on her. A sob broke out of her lips. She looked up at him, hesitant but nodded in yes. She pointed her small finger at one of them who hit her before. Zavier inhaled slowly through his nose. He straightened and turned, very deliberately- toward Raúl.

"Dejar." he said.

(Translation: Leave.)

"Señor---" Raúl blinked.

(Translation: Boss---)

"Ahora." Zavier said coldly and that was it.

(Translation: Now.)

The other men moved instantly taking it as a sign, pulling Raúl back with them. Raúl protested briefly, confusion turning to fear as the doors closed behind them. Zavier waited. He did not move until the room was empty except for him and that little girl. Then he turned around and looked at her. He crouched slowly so he was level with her. She recoiled at first, shoulders hunching, but he did not reach for her. She whimpered in fear but he didn't move.

"I won't hurt you,” he said.

The words sounded strange coming from his mouth. He noticed that. Something came out of his mouth for the first time in his life. But what he could do, she didn't do anything wrong to him so he couldn't hurt her. Besides hurting her small and delicate form would bring only shame to her. He couldn't hurt someone so small and powerless which couldn't even fight back.

She stared at him skeptically, tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

"T-They took me. I want my momma." she whispered and again a sob trembled out of her lips. Zavier felt it again. That sharp, unknown and intrusive thing.

"I know. I called you here." he said. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a clean handkerchief, holding it out- not touching her.

"Why?" She asked looking at him confusingly, her doe eyes narrowed slightly. Her words were slightly difficult to understand.

"Your face. It's bleeding a little." he said not answering her question properly.