Unforgivable Secrets | One Mistake Away Series Bk 1 [Mob Romance]

Chapter 39 - The Caves

Mason's POV:

The heat scorched my skin, showing me how unforgiving the sun's rays truly could be. My throat was dry, my lips cracked, and my arms sore. Harper had been the only one on my mind when I had been dragged away from the last hellhole, but in all honesty I should have been thinking about that diamond that Ricci had shown me. The expensive, sparkling abomination had made it easier to find me a new prison.

I no longer lingered in a dark, dank dungeon. Instead, I resided in the hot, dry weather that left you damp and sticky all day long. I'd all ready gotten used to the stench of my sweat and the sweat of others from the grueling hours of work and few breaks. Night was nearly as unbearable with an occasional coolness stringing through. I was in hell.

A baton to the back of my knee had me nearly toppling over. Language was definitely a barrier as I glared at the dark skinned man yelling at me with words I had no clue as to what they were. Picking up the wheelbarrow of heavy rocks and debris, I pushed it along. It was the only thing that I could make sense as to what he was yelling at me about. Apparently catching your breath wasn't allowed either.

"Maybe giving your workers a little water here and there would be helpful." Shrugging, I knew he didn't understand me so a little sarcasm went a long way in keeping my spirits up. "I don't know, just a thought. Probably a pretty damn good one at that."

Dumping the wheelbarrow, I twisted around to find another one. I did this every day from sun up to sun down and sometimes longer. It'd been weeks all ready, but I woke up stiff and sore nearly every single hell-filled day. Sometimes it was from the work, sometimes it was from the beatings everyone here endured when they weren't working hard enough, or were too tired, or mouthed-off, or if a guard was having a bad day. There was no winning. There was no way of getting out of this. I was fully aware that I was probably going to die here.

"3645, start getting barrels by the river!" Someone shouted at me.

Shut up and do it yourself. My tongue itched to feel the words spread through my lips. Brows furrowing, I knew that wouldn't happen.

3645. The number lingered in my mind. We weren't known by our names, just by our numbers. Swiping my arm over my sweaty brow, I glanced down at the number branded on my inner forearm. Swallowing hard, I tried to forget the trauma of the forced permanent tattoo. I hadn't had a say. I was left to watch the number be branded into my flesh, forever to be remembered.

Shoving the wheelbarrow, I glared at the path in front of me. Explosions sounding off not too far away no longer had me jumping. Passing others bringing their wheelbarrows back and forth, I nodded at the ones I liked and ignored the ones I either hadn't met or didn't care for. Like with every group of people there's just some you simply didn't get along with. I ignored the yelling not far from me; along with the gun shot that established another life had been eliminated without a fair chance.

Swallowing hard, I gritted my teeth together as I kept my eyes on the path. I didn't want to see another dead body, especially if it was someone I knew. They were better off dead than being tortured and worked to death. We lived in less than humane situations with a less than ideal lifestyle. We were owned like the slaves we now were.

"Vitali!" I almost didn't recognize my own name. It'd only been a few weeks and it felt like my memories had been wiped from my brain.

"3645!" A different voice shouted out my number, stopping me in my tracks.

Slowly I turned, half expecting to be staring down the barrel of a gun.

Why the hell is he back? I grumbled to myself.