Abigale

Around four in the morning, Abigale De Rege was boarding the first-class train with her travel club from her high school for her senior year.

Taking her seat, she was able to place her carry-on bag underneath her feet, wanting her things close to her.

‘We will arrive in Glasgow, ETA 10 hours. Please fasten your seatbelt and enjoy your flight. Thank you for flying with ITA Air.’

Abigale whimpered from the pain to her head, and was not sure how that happened, seeing that she last remembers being with her classmates at their hotel.

“There ya go, Lass. Ye look exactly like my sweet little Josephine, who was taken from me eons ago by an Italian man.”

Abigale slowly moved to sit up, groaning at the way her whole body ached from whatever had happened to her.

“Who the hell are you?” Abigale softly asked, sneering at her captor with a harsh, cold glare.

“Ye, my dear, are going to bring me back my stolen prize, if ney will help, then I will take ye in her place instead.” Abigail watched the bald, round man in an expensive suit walk away, laughing with his head thrown back, and slam the large metal door shut.

She sat back down, closing her eyes and hugging her knees to her chest, feeling out of place and wondering how this had all happened when all she wanted was to be back home with her family in Sicily.

“Lass, don’t fret. I can help get ye out of here before he even tries to do anything to ye.” Abigale crawled over to the open bars, gripping them when her dark eyes clashed with bright blue.

“How is that going to work, seeing that bastard has this place locked tight?”

“I ken on this place seeing I had been here since I was a wee lad myself.” The blue-eyed stranger huffed and grunted in pain. “The Master Collector only cares for his merchandise and the money he earns from selling within the Golden Arch Trafficking Ring. I will not allow him to do this to ye. I will get ye out, that I promise.”

Abigale’s eyes started to water seeing this young man holding his sides bare from waist up and only wearing shorts with his large body on full display.

She could see many different bruises and how rough his handsome face had been, even when it was bloody and bruised.

“What happened to you?” She hiccupped, letting her tears fall, feeling overwhelmed.

“Ye do not need to worry about me, lass. The Collector has had me be his entertainment in the underground fighting since I was sixteen.” He grunted, moving to lean his broad, muscular back against the hard, cold concrete.

“I’m Abigale,” Abigale softly says, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her eyes from crying.

“Ian, sweet lass. Here in the ring, I am known as the Devil,” Ian gruffly says, grunting from the pain of his last fight.

He looked around the place and noticed a small window was not too far from there, especially with him being close to Abigale’s rusted cell door. “Lass, I need ye to stay calm and quiet. I can get ye out of here before he comes back.”