Chapter 22 #2
“Let’s go,” I sigh, heading over to the internal garage door. We’ve not had to use it before, and I suddenly feel bad for not showing them the other cars I have that are housed in the garage. They’re in a different part than Steele sometimes works on their truck in.
“You’ve been holding out on us, Petal,” Nox states as they walk through the door and see the rows of cars.
“I’m sorry I didn’t show these to you before, I kind of forget about them not driving myself,” I tell them, nibbling my lower lip. “And you’ve been having to share rides, urgh, I’m the worst.”
“Hey,” Ant takes my face in his gloved hands, the leather creaking slightly. “You are so far from the worst, baby.” He kisses me on the lips, but doesn’t linger. “Which one are we taking?”
“The black Escalade over there, with the Nevada plates,” I tell him, and his brows raise, but he doesn’t ask the question I can see in his eyes. Why would I have a car with Nevada plates when we live in Virginia?
Nox of course always asks. “Why do you have a car with out of state plates?”
I turn to look at him, Ant’s hands falling away. “It’s untraceable.”
"You have an untraceable car just... sitting in your garage?" Nox questions slowly. I take a breath, knowing that I need to tell them the truth, even if part of me has carried it alone for so long.
“Noah's not the first kid I've had to buy back.” I switch focus between the three of them. Their faces don’t give much away, and nerves make my stomach clench. “And Henry will take care of it after. He always does.”
Steele's expression shifts, respect maybe, filling his dark brown eyes. Or recognition of a person just doing what they must. “You've done this before.”
“Yes. Twice. It’s why I know this will work.”
“Twice?” Ant repeats, and I turn to look back up at him.
“Can we get driving and I’ll tell you everything? Please? I don’t want Noah to have to wait any longer than necessary.”
His blue eyes soften, like the sky when the sun comes out. “Of course, Bloom.”
We make our way to the car, Ant getting in the front driver’s side, Steele in the front passenger with the bag of money still gripped tightly in his hands, while Nox and I get in the back.
We’ve left the garage and are heading down the drive when I start to speak.
“Mia was the first, three years ago. She was eight. Her mother was selling her to pay off drug debts.” Nox takes my trembling hand in his, giving it a squeeze and it helps to settle the dark memories of what would have happened to Mia had I not done this.
“I paid the mother fifty thousand and got Mia out.
She's eleven now, living with her grandmother in Florida.
The poor woman didn't even know Mia existed until I found her.”
“Jesus, Bloom. You went by yourself? That’s so fucking dangerous.” Ant looks at me in the rearview, his hands tightening around the steering wheel until the leather of his gloves creak.
“It was the only way,” I whisper, and Nox shuffles closer, wrapping his other arm around me.
“And the second kid?” he asks. I take a breath, feeling his arms tightening around me, but a part of me knows I don’t deserve the comfort. Not for this.
“Liam. Fourteen. Last year.” Another inhale, the guilt threatening to swallow me whole.
“His father was grooming him to join his white supremacist group.” Nox’s arms freeze as I shiver, remembering the hate on that man’s face, the Nazi flags decorating his porch.
Remembering knowing what the money I was offering him would be used for.
Knowing the harm it would help cause, and still doing it anyway because by that point Liam was my son just as much as any of the others, and what mother wouldn’t sacrifice the world to keep their child safe?
Nox is tense beside me and Steele goes very still in the passenger seat. I watch the back of his head, the tension in his shoulders.
“How much?” Steele’s deep voice is barely above a growl, and my heart thrashes in my chest as a lump forms in my throat.
“I paid two hundred thousand dollars to that vile man.”
My words are broken. I know that what I did was so wrong, but the other option was to leave Liam to become just as hateful as his father and I just… couldn’t.
The car fills with silence so thick I can barely breathe through it.
“Where's the kid now?” Nox asks carefully, voice low against my hair but loud enough for the others to hear. I want to pull myself from his embrace, not knowing how he can stand to hold me after my confession. Especially given his background. But his arms band tighter when I move.
“California. Witness protection. Liam testified against his father six months after I got him out.” My voice is steady even though my hands are shaking and I feel nauseous.
“He told the FBI everything. Meetings, plans, weapons caches.
They'd been investigating for years, but Liam…” I finally meet Steele's dark eyes even though it feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“Liam gave them what they needed for convictions. Twelve members of that hate group are in federal prison now because of him.”
“So you saved the kid and he took down the whole organization.” Anatole's tone is flat, but his knuckles have gone white on the steering wheel. His jaw works. “That money could've bought anything. A gun. God knows what. Pointed at any of us. At Noah.” My throat tightens.
The FBI agents saw Liam’s testimony as a win, but really, it was a bitter victory given how much harm the group had been causing for decades. How much they were able to cause with the money I gave them.
“The money still funded them for six months.” Steele's voice is flat, hard. I can’t help flinching at the brutal truth, the reality of my actions. “Bought propaganda. Weapons. Whatever the fuck else Nazis buy.”
More heavy silence as once again the hard truth remains.
They did use the money to harm innocent people. I gave them that money. I chose to give them that money, and regardless of my reasons, it didn’t and doesn’t alter those two facts.
“Yes.” My throat closes, tears fill my eyes and burn as they spill silently over my cheeks. “It did.”
We sit in silence, absorbing Steele’s words. Absorbing mine.
It’s not comfortable, but it’s not meant to be.
Anatole glances at Steele. “What would you have done? Left the kid there?”
Steele's jaw works. “No.”
“So—”
“But I'm not gonna pretend it doesn't sit wrong.” Steele cuts him off, still staring straight ahead. “And you shouldn’t either. That money funded people who'd lynch me without thinking twice. Who'd hurt Noah. Call Nox a half-breed while they beat him fucking bloody.”
Silence again, heavy and weighted and uncomfortable.
The night passes by the car windows, darkness surrounding us but I doubt any of us see it.
Nox's arms tighten around me.
The moment holds, awful images no doubt playing like a movie inside all our heads.
“I know,” I whisper, the words hurting as they leave my throat. “I think about it every day. Who that money hurt before Liam could—”
“Good.” Steele's voice softens slightly, though is no less firm. “You should.”
His eyes meet mine in the mirror for just a moment, and I nod, letting out a shaky exhale. I can't read his expression in the darkness, but my chest tightens all the same.
Have I lost him?
Would I blame him if I had?
“Kid would've been radicalized,” Nox says quietly, and I know he’s right, but can the ends ever justify the means?
“Would've hurt people himself. You turned a future Nazi into the reason they're all in cages. Plus took away their future. You made a shit choice in even shittier circumstances.” He sighs. “Steele is right though, those types of people are fucking barbaric assholes, hurting people who are a different fucking colour just because. What you did wasn’t right.”
Nox’s arms stay around me, holding me, and I take the comfort he’s offering.
“Yeah.” Steele nods once, and my heart skips a beat.
He doesn't say it's okay. Doesn't say he understands.
And I wouldn’t want him to. Wouldn’t ask for his forgiveness because I know what I did was unforgivable. Know that people got hurt because of me. Maybe even died because of the choice I made.
So we drive the rest of the way in silence, and I can’t stop my eyes from drifting to the back of Steele’s head every few minutes. But he doesn’t once turn to look at me, and I’ve never felt further away from him despite sitting three feet behind his seat.