Chapter 28 #2
Bailey laughs at him, the most perfect sound I’ve ever heard. Christ, I missed that laugh. I’ve tried to remember exactly what it sounded like, but hearing it now, it’s better than any memory.
“Yeah, maybe we should get up,” she agrees.
Everyone takes a minute to grab more pastries, someone opens a bottle of juice, and they gradually meander into the living room. It’s wild to think of the normalcy of us sitting around eating and chatting after everything we just shared. But I guess that’s us.
Them leaving gives me a moment to talk to Bailey alone. She’s gone back to sitting at the kitchen table, and I take the chair beside her instead of across from her. Closer, but not crowding into her space.
“Love the haircut,” I say, wanting to reach out and touch the strands, to run my fingers over the line that frames her face.
“Thanks. Falin did it. I needed a change.”
“Can I get you anything else right now? A drink? More to eat?” I know I’m stumbling over my words, but I want her to be comfortable. I have this ache to take care of her in all the ways I couldn’t before.
“I’m okay. Although, I’ll need some clothes of my own.
And Blake said something about finding a clinic today.
I should get some blood work… And I have to call my parents…
” She trails off, inhaling deeply. When her eyes meet mine again, there’s dampness in the corners.
“It’s just hard. I keep thinking about Polly.
And talking about it all. And then learning about Sir being your father… Blake’s brother, about King too.”
My chest constricts from the amount of pain in her voice. All these revelations hitting her at once… it’s too much for anyone to process, let alone someone who’s been through what she has.
I reach for her hand tentatively, unsure if she wants to be touched. She meets me halfway, wrapping her fingers in mine, and fuck, the relief that floods through me is overwhelming. It’s something. A first step toward trust.
“I know, love. The whole situation is fucked. But listen, we all love you. We never stopped loving you, or looking for you. We’re going to make this right, okay? I promise.”
“There’s others out there. Not at Sir’s… Well, not that I know of. But back in New York. When you were looking for me… did you find anyone else?”
She sounds almost afraid to find out the answer. “We did… We were able to help some, but not nearly enough.”
“My friends, do you think we could find them? Not now, of course, but soon? You found me, right? Maybe we can find them the same way? Help them?”
Even after everything she’s been through, her first thought is helping others. This is the Bailey I fell in love with—fierce, caring, thinking of everyone but herself.
“Of course,” I say, rubbing her palm. “I’ll do anything you ask of me.”
Slowly, like she’s working something out in her mind, she lays her head on my shoulder. “Thank you.”
I run my fingers through her shortened hair, feeling the slow steady rhythm of her breathing against me. We stay like that, quietly holding each other, and I let myself pretend for just a moment that we can have this. That we can find our way back to each other. However long it takes.
“Hey,” Falin comes in, then stops short when she sees us. “Whoops, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Bailey says, lifting her head but not pulling away completely. “What’s up?”
“So we were just talking and I might have a kinda sorta idea of a plan. I’d love to see what you guys think.”
“Sure,” I say. “We’ll meet you in there.”
Falin grins and as she steps away says, “Take your time,” in the most obnoxious way. She truly is like an annoying little sister.
Bailey faces me again, and I reach out, running my index finger down her cheek. “Talk more later?”
She nods. “Sounds good.”
We join them in the living room where Falin’s already talking animatedly, gesturing with her hands. “I think this could work.”
“What’s going on?” I ask, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room so Bailey can take the free spot on the couch.
“So I’ve been thinking—”
“Yeah and not sleeping enough,” Jasper interrupts.
“Shut up, dummy,” Falin says, swatting at him, before continuing. “Since we can’t go to the police directly, because who knows how many Brotherhood assholes have power there—”
“Brotherhood?” Bailey asks, settling against the couch cushion.
“It’s what they call themselves. The fucked up psychopaths that are a part of the trafficking ring.
Either they run it, or buy into it… at the very least, they work to cover their tracks.
It’s a long story I can fill you in later.
” Bailey glances at me and I nod. “Anyway, we can’t trust the cops, not here, and definitely not back in the US.
I was thinking, what if we did a massive media leak? ”
I straighten, thinking about what that would mean. When I can’t think of a downside, I say, “Shit… that could actually work.”
“Right?” Falin’s eyes light up. “We leak everything we have—member lists, financial records, known locations, communication logs. And Bailey,” her tone softens, “if you’re comfortable sharing, any information you can provide about their operations will help.
We send it all to every major news outlet simultaneously.
BBC, CNN, The Times, The Guardian, Reuters—everyone we can.
Make it impossible for them to control the narrative or buy their way out. Fucking end them.”
“Flood the media,” Damon says, smiling. “Smart.”
Blake leans forward. “What about protecting Bailey’s identity? And ours?”
“Anonymous sources, encrypted communications, the works. I can make sure nothing traces back to us.” Falin grabs her laptop. “The beauty is, once it’s out there, it’s out there. They can’t stuff that genie back in the bottle.”
“How long would something like that take?” Bailey asks quietly.
“To set up? Maybe a day, two at most. I’ve got most of what we need already compiled.” Falin looks directly at Bailey. “But I want to make sure you’re okay with this. Your story being out there, even anonymously.”
Bailey’s quiet for a long moment, squeezing her hands together. Then she clenches her jaw and fixes her gaze on Falin. “If it helps other girls like me? Like my friends who are still out there? Then yes. Let’s do it.”
My phone rings, pulling my attention from the planning session. I glance at the screen and swallow hard.
Alfred Colter.
They must notice the change in my expression. “Who is it?” Bailey asks.
“Fuck.” I hold up the phone. “It’s Alfred.”