“Were there any other girls being held here?” They shake their heads in unison. “When were you brought here?”
“L-last night,” the brunette says softly. “I think. We were drugged. We woke up on these beds.”
I turn to the side and Dimiv drifts towards me. “They moved Polly before they brought in the new girls,” I explain quietly.
“Did he talk?” Dimiv asks, lowering his voice to match mine.
“Yes. I have a name. Oleg Agapov.”
Dimiv’s eyes go wide. “Agapov? As in the same Agapov family your father ruined before I left?”
Fuck. I knew I recognized the name.
I turn back to the girls. “Do you have homes? Families who’ll be looking for you?”
They shake their heads. Most likely, these girls are from some sketchy part of town, bouncing from one foster home to the next. The kind of girls who sl
