Chapter 23 Cassie
CASSIE
It was barely light out when I stopped outside the shop to unlock the door. Main Street was deserted and quiet, the street lamps flickering off as the sun came up, and I took extra pleasure in the familiar routine after the surreal quality of the last three days since the Hunt.
I bent my head to put the key in the lock, then caught sight of something drifting in the wind above my head.
I reached out to grab the hundred-dollar bill and shoved it in my pocket. It wasn’t the first time I’d found money floating through the air downtown.
I was glad to be opening up the shop alone, glad the Hawks had brought me in early on their way to a “work thing,” whatever that meant (I’d asked but Jagger had told me not to worry about it).
I’d always loved opening and closing the shop, those hours when the customers either hadn’t arrived or had left for the day. Now I felt like I actually needed the solitude just to process everything that had happened in the four days since I’d joined the Hunt.
I’d told Kaylee and Drew, my two part-time employees, that I was taking a few days off to attend a wellness retreat.
It was the first time I’d ever left the shop to someone else for more than a day, and they’d been more than happy — even relieved, like they thought I needed the break — to take over.
Returning to the shop was like coming home, the pale green walls soothing and warm, the counter stretching along one end of the shop like an old friend. The smell of coffee and vanilla hung in the air, obvious after a days-long absence but something I hardly noticed most days.
Tables and chairs were scattered on one side of the large main room, out of the way of the lines that formed in the morning, at lunch, and in the late afternoon, and large stainless-steel canisters lined the wall behind the cash register, the coffee beans sheltered from oxygen, which would degrade their flavor.
The Cassie’s Cuppa logo, a steaming mug set against the peaks of a mountain in the background, was dark, and I walked over to turn it on, smiling when it lit up like an old friend.
The shop was as much a home to me as my apartment.
I knew every crevice of the space, every box in the storeroom, every bottle of syrup, but now everything looked a little different even though it was exactly the same.
It had only been four days since I’d last been to work and already I felt like a different person.
The Cassie who’d opened four days ago had never done anything remotely risky or dangerous.
That Cassie was Bram’s little sister, a good girl who played it safe, one who never even went to Southside unless it was to visit her brother or get ice cream.
The person who’d turned the key in the lock today was someone who let masked men hunt her. Who let them strip her and mark her. Who let them chain her and use her body like a plaything.
My nipples got hard when I remembered the interlude in the tunnel, Hawk’s face between my thighs while Vigo and Jagger played with my tits. And then my first night at the Hawks’, the way Vigo had stood behind me, making me come with his fingers.
“Morning!”
My face felt like it was on fire as Kaylee breezed into the shop, her hair (pink this month) in a ponytail, her tote bag (Might be books, Might be snacks) over her shoulder.
Like she’d interrupted me fucking the Hawks instead of just thinking about fucking the Hawks.
“Good morning,” I said, shoving the hundred-dollar bill into the tip jar.
“Are we in trouble?” she asked on her way to the back.
“Why would you be in trouble?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I just threw a rager while my mom was on vacation and now she’s checking the trash for empty beer bottles.”
I laughed. “Did you throw a rager while I was on vacation?”
“If by ‘rager’ you mean did Drew and I sling gallons of caffeine and sweet syrups to desperate customers, then yes, we raged.”
“I forgive you.”
She swiped a hand dramatically across her forehead. “Whew. Be right back.”
She disappeared into the back and I checked the airtight canisters filled with different coffee beans, then did the same with the syrups, making sure there was a backup for anything less than half-full so we didn’t have to leave the counter to resupply when it got busy.
Kaylee pushed through the door.
“That’s new,” she said, tying an apron with the Cassie’s Cuppa logo around her waist.
“What is?”
She touched a finger to her neck. “The choker.”
My pulse raced when I remembered the Hawks’ collar, still around my neck.
I’d been avoiding them for the past three days — ever since the interlude with Vigo in my room — and I hadn’t wanted to ask if I had to keep it on.
Asking meant talking to them, and honestly I didn’t trust myself to do that without begging them to fuck me already.
I’d kind of gotten used to the collar after the first couple of days, and I was glad it passed for a choker instead of what it was: a mark of ownership by the Hawks.
“Yeah,” I said, “I picked it up at a gift shop near the retreat center.”
I felt bad lying to her, but what was I supposed to say? The three masked men who marked me with their blood, chained me to a wall, and almost made me come force me to wear it?
Kaylee was young and open-minded, but somehow I didn’t see the explanation going over very well.
“How was it?” Kaylee asked, turning on the register.
“How was what?”
“The retreat.” She studied me. “You okay?”
I forced a laugh. “Yeah, sorry. I guess I still have my head in the clouds. It was great.”
“You must be so relaxed,” Kaylee said.
I nodded like a puppet. “Totally.”
She smiled. “I’m glad you went. You deserved a break. And Drew and I were fine.”
“I can see that,” I said. “You guys did great.”
I wasn’t just saying it: the shop was immaculate.
Everything was stocked and in its place, like I could have been gone another week without a single problem.
I remembered something I’d heard on one of the business podcasts I listened to — that you knew you had a sustainable business when it could survive without you — and felt a swell of pride.
Almost half of small businesses failed within the first five years. I was at year three and everything felt like it was getting better and better: a little more money every year, more brand recognition, and solid support staff who were clearly competent and conscientious in my absence.
My gaze snagged on the bulletin board at one end of the room. It had been a while since I’d done a purge of the announcements and notices customers pinned to the board, and it was messy and overcrowded, the multicolored pieces of paper overlapping in a chaotic jumble of color and text.
The rest of the shop was clearly in order so I crossed the room and scanned the board, then started removing the notices announcing events that had already passed.
There were a lot of them, and I made a mental note to check the board more often.
It had become part of the furniture in the shop, but it was a messy background note that was easy to fix.
Removing the old notices left me room to rearrange the remaining flyers, although there was still a little overlap.
I tried to make sure the headlines were visible at least, and I’d just unpinned a yellow flyer offering dog-walking services when I noticed heavy black letters screaming from a stark white piece of paper: MISSING.
I assumed it was for a dog, or maybe a cat. I couldn’t count the number of times someone had come in asking if we’d seen a dog or cat hanging around the store. One time someone was even looking for a pet bird.
But when I unpinned the flyers on top of it I saw that it wasn’t a notice for a lost pet.
It was for a missing woman.
Missing!
Rain Adakai
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5’4”
Weight: 130 lbs
Last seen leaving Pink Adult Entertainment on Route 308 on March 6th.
REWARD: $1000 for any information leading to her return.
My heart sunk. How long had the flyer been on the bulletin board? And why hadn’t I ever noticed it?
I set it aside and started removing the flyers that still obscured something underneath. It only took a minute for me to realize that Rain Adakai wasn’t the only missing girl on the board.
There were two more — Nia Alvarez and Jasmine Okoye — buried even deeper under the clutter of paper.
They all listed the dates the women had gone missing, but none of them had a year.
Exactly how long had the flyers been here?
“Hey,” I called out to Kaylee and held up the flyers. “Any idea how long these have been here?”
She looked over and shook her head. “No, but I went to school with Rain. I remember hearing about her right after she went missing.”
“Did they ever find her?”
“I’m not sure. Hang on.” She pulled out her phone and a minute later shook her head. “Doesn’t look like it. Damn. That’s so sad.”
I started replacing the flyers on the board, but my carefree determination to tidy up had been replaced by a sick feeling in my stomach.
Three missing girls in Blackwell Falls? Over a period of how many years? And why hadn’t I heard more about it?
I remembered hearing something about Aventine University — the alumni had been trafficking local girls — a few years back, but I’d thought that was the end of it. Had Rain, Nia, and Jasmine been part of those crimes?
Or was this something else?
Once I had all the other announcements back on the board I placed the missing flyers on top, over the notices for the VFW pancake breakfast, the Blackwell Falls Historical Society’s tricky tray (whatever that was), and the town-wide yard sale.
Then I stood back and took a picture.
The missing girls had nothing to do with me but I couldn’t help being curious. It wouldn’t hurt to do a little digging.