Chapter 27: Olivia Hill
In the dim room, a flickering incandescent bulb swung unevenly overhead, casting its harsh glow across faces warped by open, lecherous hunger.
The light stabbed at her eyes. Olivia slowly peeled open her heavy lids, trying to push herself up, but her body wouldn’t respond. She was strapped down to an iron-framed bed, wrists wrapped tight in chains and locked securely to the headboard above her head.
Olivia gritted her teeth. Her mutant body was tough as hell, strong enough to resist most of the sedative that should have knocked her out, but no matter how hard she thrashed, she still couldn’t move an inch.
“Woke up pretty damn fast, huh.”
“C’mon, boys—let’s have some fun!”
“Finally gonna fuck this prime piece of ass…”
Filthy taunts echoed from every side. Olivia lifted her heavy head and took in the dozen or so men circling her—some burly and brutal, others sleazy and repulsive.
A few of those faces were all too familiar. They were the ones she’d personally dragged into prison herself.
In the radiation-scorched wasteland crawling with mutant monsters, mutants were born with bodies far stronger than any normal human. And Olivia’s looks stood out even among her own kind—stunning, almost unreal.
Countless men had lusted after her, but almost none had the guts to actually make a move on a Tier 3 Vanguard like her. She was like a white rose blooming in the ruins—delicate and breathtaking, yet bristling with razor-sharp thorns, untouchable and intimidating as hell.
But today that white rose had been stripped of its thorns. The men who used to only dare stare at her from a distance now all wanted their turn to defile her.
A rough, calloused hand shot forward and clamped down on Olivia’s smooth, delicate chin. A moment later, a pair of lips reeking of cigarette smoke and stale sweat pressed in, eager to force themselves onto her cherry-red mouth.
Olivia arched her back hard. The chains binding her wrists snapped taut as she slammed her forehead forward with everything she had.
A dull THUD rang out. The leering face twisted in pain and snapped backward.
Loud laughter erupted from the men around them. The guy she’d headbutted clutched his nose, blood pouring thick and steady between his fingers and splattering onto the floor.
“Fuck! You goddamn bitch!”
His nose was broken, and his face twisted into something even uglier. He swung the butt of his rifle straight into Olivia’s cheek. Her head whipped back; she turned away through the pain, jaw throbbing.
“This whore won’t stay still!”
Another fist drove hard into her stomach. Olivia doubled over from the agony, but the chains held her limbs tight. She couldn’t even bend properly, so she could only writhe and twist in helpless torment.
Despair… total, crushing despair. For the first time, Olivia felt an endless wave of fear wash over her, as if her whole body had dropped into an ice-cold abyss. She wished she could just die right then and there rather than face what was coming next.
Bang!
The door to the dim room was kicked open violently. A man strode in.
A flicker of hope sparked in Olivia’s chest—like a drowning person clutching at one last chance—only for the man’s casual, mocking words to shove her straight back into the depths:
“How the hell are you guys not finished yet? The boss already sent word. Hurry up and fuck her. When you’re done, it’s my turn.”
“You go stand fucking guard!” one of the men snarled. “When we’re done, I’ll call you!”
“Tom, you always love sloppy seconds. Same shit at Juliana’s bar last time…” someone nearby mocked.
The newcomer wasn’t a savior. He was just another rapist. Olivia’s heart sank. Her whole body started trembling uncontrollably as a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye and traced down her pale cheek.
BANG!
A brutally loud gunshot shook the entire room!
The bald, burly thug shoving his way in from the back suddenly had a massive hole blown through his spine. Blood and gore sprayed everywhere.
Finn leaned against the doorframe, a thick black shotgun resting casually in his hands, thin wisps of smoke curling from the muzzle.
He looked at the dozen or so men still burning with lust and grinned. “No wonder the whole damn building’s empty. You assholes are all crammed in here. Perfect. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down one by one.”
“Who the fuck are you?!” the men roared in fury, scrambling for the pistols at their waists and snatching up the submachine guns leaning against the wall.
Finn pulled a rugged automatic rifle from somewhere, racked the bolt with practiced ease, and squeezed the trigger. The black muzzle erupted in bright yellow flame as a storm of metal bullets tore out, mowing down every living thing still standing in front of him.
One full magazine emptied in seconds. The room filled with thick gunpowder smoke and the sharp stench of blood. Crimson streams flowed across the floor like a freshly dyed red carpet.
Finn stepped over the corpses strewn across the floor and walked straight to the iron-framed bed. Only then did he clearly see who was chained down there—it was Olivia Hill.
She lay flat on her back on the iron bed. She turned her head to look straight at him, eyes misty with tears, lips trembling. “Th… thank you.”
Finn tore the chains off her wrists and ankles. That was when he noticed her fair, soft wrists had been rubbed raw from her desperate struggling, streaked with blood.
Olivia sat on the edge of the bed with her head down, hugging her arms tightly around herself. Finn pulled a coat from his storage space and gently draped it over her shoulders.
This time, Olivia didn’t widen her big, deer-like eyes in curiosity and look around when Finn pulled something out of thin air. She wrapped the thick cotton coat tightly around herself, forced herself up from the bed’s edge, but her legs gave out and she fell straight into Finn’s arms.
“Don’t be scared. They’re all dead. You’re safe now.” Finn gently patted her back, soothing the girl who was still shivering slightly in his embrace. She was still shaken to the core, like a startled little fawn.
Olivia didn’t say a word. She stayed nestled against his chest, as if simply leaning on him could give her an endless sense of safety. Finn held her close, silent for a moment.
After a while, Olivia slowly lifted her head. Beneath her messy golden hair, her bright blue eyes pleaded with him. “Can you get me out of here? Can you take me home?”
“Huh?” Finn frowned slightly. “This whole area’s pretty much safe now. I’ve wiped out almost the entire Demon Gang. You can head home on your own—I’ve still got some personal scores to settle.”
“Mm.” Olivia nodded obediently. She slipped out of Finn’s arms and stood up; her legs had stopped shaking.
Seeing she was okay, Finn turned and walked out of the blood-stinking room. Olivia pulled the coat tighter around herself and followed right behind him, step for step.
Jimmy was squatting outside with his gun in his arms. The moment he saw Finn emerge, he hurried over to report what he’d found. “Only dug up a few dozen coins, plus some worthless bullets, rocket launchers, and grenade launchers.”
“Is this Demon Gang hideout really that broke?” Finn sounded bitterly disappointed. Rusty iron cabinets lay toppled all over the floor, their doors hanging open to reveal nothing but hollow interiors.
Hanging on the walls were mutated bison heads, stuffed owls, and other taxidermy junk, along with a fancy brass pendulum clock. Other wastelanders might have wanted that crap, but Finn couldn’t have cared less.
“Are you guys looking for something? I can help,” Olivia said softly.
She blinked her big eyes, glancing around the room once. Her long lashes trembled slightly. “On the floor below, in the west corner, there’s an iron box hidden under the kitchen cabinet. Inside are three gold bars minted by the Columbian Imperium before the Cataclysm. Besides that, there’s also…”