Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
FADE
Over the next several days, it feels like I’m moving through life in a blur. I’m only vaguely aware of what I’m doing. I spend a lot of time at the gym, working through the fog of dissociation with the situation.
Every night has been a new nightmare with the same ending—Lana running through the dark in terror. Barefoot. Ripped dress. Hair a mess. Bruises forming on her face and arms.
Some of those details are new each night. Not a new detail of the memory that’s real but details are added to the memory every time I see or learn something new about Lana. Like the fact that she was the girl in the room where Erez beat the shit out of the man who was currently abusing her.
It makes me even more humbled that she trusted me. Erez assures me that I look nothing like the man who hurt her. Maybe I don’t resemble any of the men who ever hurt her, so immediately, I appeared safe to her.
Maybe it was my voice. I do make a comfortable living on my voice. I’m not living in excessive luxury, of course, but I’m comfortable.
There are a total of eleven children rescued. Aven spent a lot of time going through all the recordings and still images, sure that there had been twelve in total. We brought six from the shelter and another five from predators’ houses or shady motel rooms.
In the end, Aven says they’re ninety-three percent sure we have them all, but they’re still a little hesitant to say we found them all. I have to believe we found them, though. The thought that there’s still one out there makes me crazy.
As another day comes to a close, I drop onto my bed. I’m not sure what I accomplished today. My muscles ache, so I think I might have pushed myself a bit too hard at the gym. Or maybe I spent too many hours at the gym, and I’m feeling muscle fatigue.
I haven’t dared work since rescuing Lana and the others. My mental space is far too fucked up right now. I refuse to put out anything but my best performance, so it’s better if I don’t record at all right now.
My brain feels exhausted, too. There’s nothing but a persistent buzz right now. Little better than static. Honestly, it’s a relief to stop thinking for a minute.
The bed shifts, and Erez practically lands on me.
I oof, and his tired chuckle meets my ears.
He’s been far more involved in keeping up with what’s going on beyond the children.
His dads are dealing with the men from the shelter as well as those who had borrowed from the shelter that night, and from what I understand, his fathers are experts in torture.
I’m not sure what that means, and I don’t particularly want to know.
“Dadaz burned all six businesses down almost simultaneously,” Erez says quietly. “Now everyone is waiting for Herman Trumpstein to throw a public tantrum online.”
“They’re not in his name, though.”
“From what I understand, he’s not the brightest person.
He also has this god complex where he thinks he’s literally the reincarnation of Jesus and everything he does is holy work.
He believes he’s untouchable, which means I’m about fifty-fifty on whether I believe he’ll make a comment online, linking himself to the burned businesses. ”
“I hope he does. But I also hope that he’s somehow tied to a child-trafficking pedophile ring.”
“The reason we wore the cams is so we have visual evidence of what’s going on,” Erez says. “Not just so our people had eyes on us but so we could document what was happening.”
“You can’t just send it in. That’s going to implicate everyone involved.”
“Don’t worry. Aven won’t let that happen.”
Aven. Right.
“The Van Dorens’ cop friend is already linking the businesses under the same umbrella and calling it a bid for insurance fraud. I’m sure Trumpstein is about to throw a hissy fit and sue someone for something.”
I snort.
“He won’t get too loud, though. If someone looks too closely, they’re going to uncover that all the people who ‘own’ these companies don’t actually exist. Since we know Aven is listening to any and all investigations that concern this right now, they’ll accidentally lead them down the trail where they all tie back to Trumpstein. ”
“I can’t decide if Aven is a demon or a saint.”
“Both. Definitely both. As long as they’re not my enemy, I don’t even care.”
That’s fair. Aven would be a very dangerous enemy to have. Almost as dangerous as having the Van Dorens for an enemy.
“You know what I need?” Erez asks.
I grunt in question.
“I need to suck your dick.”
I’m pretty sure I almost choke on my tongue as I laugh. I hadn’t expected that. “Oh yeah? You do?”
“Definitely.” He drags himself off me then shoves at me until I’m rolled onto my back. I don’t even pick my hips up as he struggles to get my underwear off, which makes us both laugh. I think we need to laugh. It feels like it’s been months since we’ve laughed.
Erez’s hand wraps around my dick, and I close my eyes. I love his hands on me. What do I need to do to make sure this happens for the rest of my life?
The answer is obvious, really. Have a conversation.
As his hand begins moving over my semi-hard dick, I decide that the conversation can wait.
His mouth circles my crown before I’m fully hard.
He’s lying along my side, knees at my shoulder.
I’m not quite at the right angle to get at his cock, but I try to reach it.
He has a nice dick. I enjoy touching it. Tasting it.
My thoughts begin to melt away as Erez truly begins sucking, his hand stroking along with his bob. The pressure of his mouth around me is tight. As he pulls up, the suction isn’t intense, but it’s enough that he calls all the blood in my body to the head of my dick.
I barely reach his dick with my fingers. I’m mostly just playing with his crown like this, which I might laugh about if Erez’s mouth on me didn’t feel so good.
His mouth looks good stretched around my cock. Disappearing between his pink lips. The flush of his creamy skin against my darker skin is beautiful. Mesmerizing. I’m pretty sure my little enby cat on my hip is watching his progress and judging his skills—just as a cat would.
The thought makes me smile around a moan. My fingers move over his shoulder, and I stare at the tattoos there. Some weird mask thing that circles the back of his bicep and disappears under his arm. I don’t know if I’ve ever looked at it before.
There are motorcycle tire tracks that move over his ribs that I’ve also not noticed. I wonder what they’re from.
My eyes drift close as I lose myself in the feel of his mouth around me. It’s beautiful. Hot and wet and so damn good. He’s unhurried. I get the feeling this isn’t so much about sex and pleasure as it is about losing ourselves in each other. Which might be my favorite part about being with Erez.
Yes, pleasure is good. The sex we share is exquisite. But just being with him in this intimate way tops everything. During moments like this, it’s easy to convince myself that this means something.
My orgasm is slow and drawn out. Erez lazily sucks me dry then rests his head on my thigh.
His hand remains loosely gripped around the base of my dick.
I want to tell him he has to move so I can get him off, but instead, I stare at him.
His eyes are closed. His breathing is slowing. He looks so… peaceful. Beautiful.
I stare at him for so long that he eventually opens his eyes and gives me a slow smile.
“You’re good at that. Master level,” I say, trying to push away the warmth in my chest.
He chuckles and closes his eyes again.
“Can I ask you something?”
Erez hums, and I take that as permission.
“The tire tracks here.” I trace the bit of them on his ribs within reach. “Are they a part of something bigger?”
His smile climbs, though he doesn’t open his eyes.
“When I started riding with you, it was the first time I’d really felt peace since Alice died.
I’m still not sure if it’s the bike or you specifically, but riding with you still brings me peace.
A lot of my tattoos are visual reminders.
When I look at them, I remember where the outlet is to escape something, even momentarily.
The tracks end at my stomach where there’s a motorcycle. Yours.”
“I-I didn’t know that.” I’m not sure why I’m stammering right now. A weird surge of emotion floods me, and I’m tongue tied. I had no idea that I helped him that much.
Erez’s eyes remain closed, but that soft smile reappears. He hums.
So I don’t start waxing poetic, I touch the strange mask. “And this one?”
He doesn’t answer right away. His eyebrows pinch momentarily, probably trying to remind himself what’s there.
“It’s a creepy mask,” I supply, and the confusion clears.
“It’s the symbol—” His words cut off, and his eyes open, meeting mine. “You can never repeat this. When I tell you that the consequences of you knowing what it means are deadly, I cannot emphasize that enough. Promise me.”
I’ve seen enough at this point to believe him, so I nod. “I promise.”
“If you see someone else’s mask, you act like it’s nothing exciting. Just a stupid mask.”
“There are others with the same thing?”
“Same but different, yes. I mean it, Fade. I can’t tell you if you can’t pretend you’re entirely oblivious to what it means.”
I have a feeling he’s not supposed to tell anyone at all. That he’s willing to tell me has the warmth in my chest igniting again. I nod. “I promise.”
His eyes close again. “It’s the symbol that identifies members of a secret society. The final initiation test is murdering a bad man, much like the ones we’ve just dealt with, but we’re not limited to pedophiles.”
“You’re a member of a secret society?”
Erez hums. “An inactive member. My dads are members and my brothers are members. When Zephyr said he wanted to join, there was no way in fucking hell I was allowing him to go kill someone on his own. I’d already lost one sibling, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to lose another.
Knowing that the environment is controlled and there isn’t a ‘showdown,’ so to speak, did nothing to assuage my fear of losing him, so I joined as well, though I haven’t been active… at all, actually.”
“You kill people,” I note.
He smiles. I’m about to comment on his response when he shifts to kiss the top of my soft cock, making me snort with laughter instead.
“Not often. Not as a hobby. I’ve killed two people, Fade.
The man who I found beating Alice in an alley, and that was unintentionally though I’ve never lost sleep over the fact that I’m the reason he’s dead.
He was beating up a damn child! And I killed the man I needed to for initiation into the society.
I can’t even say I beat the scumbag who hurt Lana to death. I was pulled off him too soon.”
“Shame.”
He nods. “I’m not a killer, but I’ve killed people,” he says quietly, and his eyes slit open. “Knowing that, do you think differently of me?”
I chew the inside of my lip as I study his face. “The man for the initiation?”
“He was a convicted serial rapist with four counts of rape on college campuses and half a dozen more that he somehow got off the hook for. He served thirteen months and was then freed.”
“What the fuck?”
“Welcome to America.”
I scowl and close my eyes. We lay in silence for a long time.
“I can see why the Van Doren kids rarely move away from the estate,” I say after a while. “From what you told me about growing up there and what I’ve seen, it’s a much better place removed from the realities of the outside world.”
“They’re not perfect,” Erez says. “I know I kind of sainted them, but everyone has flaws. Everyone has fucked up from time to time. As someone who has lived outside the estate, I’ve made a few observations that set the Van Dorens apart.”
“Besides the wealth and shit,” I note.
He snorts. “Yeah. Besides the wealth and shit.”
“What is it then?”
“When they fuck up, they admit it. They apologize sincerely. They make amends. They fix it when they can. They don’t do it again.
They genuinely help people and will take responsibility for their mistakes—big or small.
There’s no pushing it off on anyone else.
No one is immune to punishment for vile acts.
” He pauses. “Consent is everything. Gender and sexuality are nothing.”
“Do they make exceptions to those rules for Orev?”
His eyes open. “The rules are stricter for Orev and Arek. And Lanzo, for that matter. That’s why they can function in the world while not attempting to blend in.
Not to radicalize this, but their life rules are gospel.
There is no wavering from them. They know that there’s a time and place for everything.
They know that they’re never allowed to act on their own without someone else’s permission—and that permission cannot come from someone else with an antisocial disorder. ”
I think about Lanzo in the office as we began to uncover the truth of what Alice had been a part of. His cold, detached tone and lack of empathy as he discussed it.
I’ve had little interaction with Orev and none with Arek, but I can only imagine having a handful of psychopaths around me. How strange the world would feel.
“The world portrays the Van Dorens as something greater than human. If you’re the government and they’re out of your control, or if you’re weak and jealous of their money, of course you’re going to vilify them.
You always hate that which you envy. The truth is, they’re just as human as you and me.
In a lot of ways, they face more challenges than we do because the world is always watching them.
Every move they make. Every word they speak.
Everything the company does or doesn’t do.
Every second of their lives is analyzed and picked at by the media.
As much as I loved them, I’ve always been thankful that I’m not part of the family by blood.
Poor Grey has been on every fucking tabloid, every entertainment news station, every socialite podcast since she was born. ”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“Suddenly, the shit we struggle with feels a little smaller,” Erez says.
Yes and no. There are obstacles I face that the Van Dorens and Erez never will. I have a feeling that it’ll never matter how advanced society gets. Race is always going to be an unspoken red line in the sand that will forever be there.