broken thieves

nineteen

It almost takes me a full minute to process that it's not Enoch.

Enoch isn't strapped to this chair. He hasn't been tortured to death. His fingernails haven't been pulled off, a few of his teeth haven't been ripped from the gums. He's not been sat here decomposing, waiting for someone to stumble across his remains. No, not Enoch. Just some other poor, poor guy, whose face is unrecognisable.

I place a hand on my chest, feeling my heart fluttering beneath the flesh.

"They were here," Blake mutters, as if he's speaking to himself. "They were here. They couldn't have left more than a week ago. They were right here."

I nod, swallowing the nausea bubbling at the back of my throat. Even though it's not Enoch in front of us, it doesn't make it any less sickening to see.

"Are you okay?" he asks me, eyes full of concern. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called you over."

"No, it's fine," I say, shaking my head. "I just--" I look down at the paper still clutched in my hand before passing it to him. He reads through it, and I know as the moment the realisation hits.

"You thought it was Enoch," he states.

I nod. "I found it on the floor, right before you called me over. And the hair..."

"It's not him," Blake reassures me. "Definitely not. It's some other unlucky guy."

"He looks young," I say, staring at the body. He's wearing a loose, white top and blue jeans, most of the materials covered in dark, dried blood. "Why do you think they did this?"

"Sometimes the Drakan's don't need a reason," Blake explains, stepping closer to the body. "He might have done something to them, possibly threatened them, but the more likely reason is that he was simply walking down the street and they caught him. Or he knew information that they wanted to get out of him... who knows."

I sigh, picking at the sleeve of Blake's jacket. "We should let Zavier know, right?"

He nods, taking the radio from his pocket. But as soon as it does, it beeps, and Zavier's voice sounds out, faintly echoing across the warehouse.

"Blake? Are you there?" he asks.

"Here," Blake says into it. "We've just come across a body. Looks like he's been tortured." He glances down at Enoch's script. "And there's a piece of paper here with everything that Enoch had said in the video we were sent. They were definitely here."

"I'm afraid that's not the only evidence."

Blake and I exchange a look. "What have you found?" he asks.

"Some more dead bodies," Zavier says. My stomach churns slightly, and I subconsciously wrap an arm around my torso. "I don't know if they were tortured, though. It looks like they were murdered on the spot."

"Shit," Blake mutters. "We should all meet somewhere."

"I want to check the warehouse next to the one you're in, actually," Zavier says. "I'll get Jayden and Aspen to meet us in there, too."

"Okay." Blake places the radio in his pocket, running a hand through his dark hair. "We should get going," he says to me.

I worry at my bottom lip. "I feel bad about just leaving him here," I say, nodding my head to the guy in the chair. "Someone will find him eventually. Someone who isn't used to seeing death and dead bodies."

"We don't really have another choice," Blake says gently. "We can't leave any trace of us here."

I feel guilty. This guy, whoever he was, doesn't deserve this. Strapped to a chair, slowly fading away, like an animal rotting in the desert as if he were never a person with ambitions and dreams and a future that has gone to waste.