Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
THEO
“H as anyone heard from Elijah yet?” I ask. It’s been almost a week since any of us have, and I’m beginning to get worried.
“No,” Jared grunts as the others shake their heads. “I even went over today, but no one opened up. It didn’t look as if anyone was home, either.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I don’t like this. Do you think they took him on some kind of trip?”
“It’s possible. His parents just got back from an overseas trip for work, and they’ve been emphasizing that he needs to get more involved,” Nacio says with a grimace. “I don’t know what it would mean for that to happen, though.”
“They have their own plane. Can we check any kind of report to see if he’s on it?” Jared asks. “In the case that they did decide to take him with them for some reason.”
Blowing out a breath, I pull out my laptop. I swear, it’s an extension of me. I can’t go anywhere without it. I don’t know if his parents would be dumb enough to kidnap their own son and put him on the roster while they do it. I don’t have any evidence that this is what happened, but he wouldn’t disappear like this, especially without his phone.
The four of us are attached at the hip, not only because we are Kings, but because we’re best friends as well. We are definitely going to notice if he goes missing. One thing I know for sure is that his parents came home, and a few well placed clicks takes me to the international roster that shows they did come home.
They left again on their private plane mere hours later, but Elijah’s name is not on the roster.
“His name isn’t on the flight manifest, but he’s a minor. The Fletchers know how to get around the rules. They left town a few hours after they arrived. It would be safe to say that he’s with them,” I explain.
“Where?” Nacio asks. “Where did they take him?”
“Dubai,” I sigh, finding the final destination for the flight. “They do a lot of business in that part of the world. His mother speaks several languages quite fluently the last time I checked. Over the years when they are home and I’ve been over, I’ve noticed that she’s typically not speaking English on her calls.”
“They have to come back,” Jared mutters. “School isn’t over, his parents can’t kidnap him forever.”
“Just because he wasn’t able to tell us about the trip, doesn’t mean it’s kidnapping,” I say, wincing as I hear how ridiculous the words are.
We tell each other just about everything. If we didn’t know about something as big as him leaving the country, then he probably didn’t go willingly.
“I need something else to focus on,” Jared says, looking worried. “I want to pretend that he’ll be home as soon as possible.”
“You need a plan,” Nacio says, understanding. Jared is someone that looks to the future, and likes to know what’s coming next.
“We need to fuck with the little mouse,” I grit out. “Isn’t her birthday coming up?”
I know for a fact that her birthday is June 29th. I need to give my friends something else to focus on, and I’m willing to throw her under the bus to do it.
“You know it is,” Jared says. “Is Lili planning anything for it?”
“Not that I’ve heard,” Nacio says. “I’m sure she is. They’ve been hot and heavy since exams ended. I haven’t seen her much since the little mouse has been staying with Lili.”
“They’ve had enough time to fuck each other’s brains out,” I say. “Is there anyone else who wonders about how that works?”
Nacio smirks as he shakes his head, leading me to shrug indignantly.
“So you’re saying that you’re not thinking about what they do to get each other off?” I ask.
Even Jared looks smug as he adjusts his cock in his shorts. That’s as much as an admittance of guilt to me.
“Lili has a very healthy sexual appetite,” Nacio says. “She has a dirty mouth, and I’ve often found Rachelle fire engine red at something she’s said. They’re definitely eating each other's pussies.”
“Fucking knew it,” I groan. “Okay, enough of that. Find out what they’re doing. I say we crash it.”
“Oh that’ll be fun,” Jared says with a nod. “I don’t know what two lesbians do for romance, but it’ll be a blast to play third, fourth, fifth, and sixth wheels.”
The fact that he’s including Elijah helps to ease the stranglehold on my lungs. It’s hard to breathe, because I’m really worried about him. If Jared thinks he’ll be home soon, I’m going to hold onto that.
“You’re ridiculous,” Nacio says, but he’s chuckling under his breath anyway. “I’ll see what I can find out. She’s had a week’s worth of peace. That’s more than enough.”
I know his dad is on his ass to leave his stepsister alone, but we don’t have that luxury. There are eyes everywhere in the Kings Society. If we aren’t delivering on what we’ve promised to do, they’ll come to remind us.
The society spans years worth of Carlysle Kings generations. The warning could come from anywhere, and we’d never know until it’s too late. We can’t afford to get lax in our attention to the little mouse.
Rachelle Reyes doesn’t deserve a life without our torture, not when so much rides on this. Killing her means that Elijah won’t have to worry about being kidnapped or pulled into his family’s business. I’ve been trying to figure out what the fuck they’re selling or dealing in. There have been too many roadblocks.
It leads me to believe it not only isn’t legal, but that whatever it is is likely to crush Elijah’s soul. He’s as dark and twisted as we are. However there’s a deep seated feeling of justice inside of him as well.
The reason he’s perfectly fine to fuck with Rachelle’s life is because he has a laundry list of her imagined sins written in his head. It doesn’t matter if they may not be real, as long as he holds fiercely to it, the little mouse will live in misery.
She may pull at our interests or even occasionally our sympathies, but it’ll never be enough to save her. The outlying bitch won’t survive high school.
* * *
ELIJAH
My parents made sure I remained knocked out for the entire flight. Every time I started to wake up, my dad would smirk and tell me,“ Go back to sleep. We’re not ready for you quite yet.”
The plane is huge, which seems odd for only three people. Occasionally, I’d hear really odd keening and moaning sounds through the haze of the drugs. I know my father doesn’t have any issues with having sex with barely legal girls and boys, but I don’t know if there’s anyone else here.
Maybe it’s better that I don’t know. We landed several times to refuel, so my parents could have picked up their sweet treats at any point and time. It took me a long time to realize what my father meant when he said that. I was fifteen when it really clicked.
It took everything inside of me not to hurl. Maybe I just refused to realize what my parents were actually selling or doing until now. There’s no way I can stick my head in the sand anymore.
“Up we go,” Mom says, roughly shaking me. “Don’t be lazy now. I have places to be, which means so do you.”
Dad chuckles as I force my eyes open. It takes me a few seconds to be able to clear the odd film over my eyesight. Shoving a bottle into my hands, he turns away as I slowly open it. My ears struggle to hear the seal crack as my hand twists the top. I could lift it to look, but my mom won’t stop watching me.
If they wanted to drug me again, she’d just stick me with a needle. Right? That’s what I’m going with for now.
Forcing myself to my feet, I see two girls hurry off the plane ahead of my father that have to be barely twelve, and feel my stomach pitch. Rubbing my chest because it hurts, I wonder if I’m having a heart attack at seventeen.
It’s one thing to hear my father and grandfather talk about their depraved preferences, but seeing it physically hurts.
“That’s not the worst thing you’ll see today,” Mom mutters. “Let’s go. Drink your water.”
My feet work as if on autopilot, years of doing whatever she wants working in her favor now. The girls are gone by the time I make it down the stairs to the tarmac. There’s no one who cares as we get into the car with heavily tinted windows, a driver silently taking us away from the airport.
The sun is going down, allowing me to gauge what time it is, but I still feel messed up as I chug water. I don’t want to puke it up since my stomach is bothering me from both the flight and the medication Mom injected into me.
“Tonight, we are going to show you the shipping containers, as we have people coming to pick up their product,” Dad says eagerly. “There’s an auction filled with wealthy people here in Dubai. When you have more money than God, it’s easy to get bored with what life has to offer.”
“That’s when you begin to reach for things polite society says you can’t have,” my mother murmurs. “We procure what others can’t with our shipping containers and ability to run under the radar. You’ve refused to pay any attention to our family business, but that changes now, son.”
I don’t know if they’re purposely not using my name because we have a driver or not. It feels weird, as if they’re both distancing themselves from whatever it is they’re planning to do next. It’s true, I’ve largely ignored their business. I thought it was boring, perhaps high end furniture or even chemicals.
I’m scared of what we’re going to find at the shipyard if my father is getting sucked off by the girls I saw disappear from the plane. The idea fits with what I heard while I was semi-conscious, I’m just having a hard time getting my mind to accept the knowledge. Who wants to believe that their parents are sex trafficking children?
I have so many questions, but they’re being so careful with the way they couch their words, I don’t want to ask the wrong thing. Instead, I slowly sip my water, and force myself to breathe. Passing out will not serve me at this moment.
What appears to be the shipping yard arrives too soon as the driver parks to let us out.
“He’ll wait for us to return,” Dad grunts, opening the door and getting out.
There’s nothing for me to do but follow him, my empty water bottle left behind. It’s reminiscent of how I feel, deflated of any possible goodness. I should have known this is what my legacy is. I should have paid better attention.
I’m part of the problem instead.
My mother’s impossibly tall heels and perfectly pressed cream suit sticks out like a sore thumb as she walks through the shipping yard. I don’t know how she can possibly know where to go when there are so many different kinds of containers, and there’s different colors as well.
My father whistles under his breath in his expensive double breasted suit, no one is asking why we’re here. I expected the security to be tighter than it is, yet not one person stops us in the deserted space.
“Here we are,” Mom says, stopping in front of several bright blue containers with a sigil of a fancy letter ‘F’, I’m assuming for Fletcher’s Shipping and Supplies. In another life I would assume my family’s company sold things like padded mailers, and not human beings.
“There’s an auction happening tonight,” Dad grunts, his arms crossing over his expansive chest.
While others would imagine it’s fat, it’s not. He’s somehow solid muscle, and very vain about maintaining it as such. It also means that his suits are of course custom made because he wouldn’t be able to properly fit anything else.
Forcing myself to focus, I wonder if this is what the little mouse does when she looks spacy in the hallways. Is she disassociating because her life is that terrible?
I bet it’s not as bad as she believes it is. I’ll have to show her a lesson in how fucked up life can get. We’ve been too easy on her. I will not allow myself to become my parents. I won’t survive it.
“We can’t in good faith bring you to something so sordid,” my mom says in a hushed tone.
It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so damn sad. She’s playing at this as if she’s attempting to show me what a wonderful mother she is because she won’t take me to an auction where they sell people!
Yet, I’m standing in front of a shipping container where I believe they’re currently being kept.
“In this container in front of us are twenty pieces of inventory,” Dad says. “They range from twelve to seventeen, depending on the tastes of the men at the auction, they’ll all sell well. We receive our fee for both importing them here and when they’re sold. There's a high risk for our work, we deserve to be paid well.”
Mom waves at someone that she sees walking toward us, and continues the thread of conversation. “We travel all over the world, and our clients speak many languages,” she says. “I need you to step up your educational endevours. Rugby gets you some wonderful contacts that we’ll need you to use one day.”
“Yes, I wouldn’t mind supplying some of your teammates’ fathers with some merchandise for a special prorate in exchange for a favor or two,” Dad grunts. “For now, it’s easier to keep our work overseas.”
“Much easier,” Mom agrees. “I need you to add Arabic to your studies next year, son. Network with those who take those classes as well. It’s important for you to also continue taking French as well. It’s a wonderful conversational language.”
I have a feeling she’s being facetious.
“Stay quiet,” Dad barks as the men walk up to us.
Mom begins to speak to the men with a smile, opening the container as well. Tying bandanas to their lower face, they walk in, while I’m hit with the worst smell of my entire life. All I can think about is that whoever is inside is dead.
How could they survive being kept inside this shipping container? What were they eating?
The questions swirl around in my mind as the men force the children to leave the container, most stumbling as they walk. A few are unable to walk, which means they’re carried out without a care. Not one of them speaks or cries. They all have a vacant look on their face though, as they’re marched off to their fates.
Mom says goodbye to them as another group of men arrive, and she gives them instructions.
“Time to go,” she says. “I’m not typically needed here, but I wanted you to see how these transactions go. One of our associates will take care of the rest of this. There are two more shipping containers left with inventory, which means there will be men who will be along shortly.”
“The smell,” I rasp, blinking away tears from the sting. “Was anyone dead inside?”
“It does happen,” Dad admits. “It’s always bad for business, so we do what we can by not overfilling the containers.”
“What you smelled was undoubtedly human filth,” Mom says, shrugging. “It’s part of the business, they have to relieve themselves somehow. Now, our crew is going to clean the container until the smells are completely gone. They’ve become quite adept at cleaning.”
“The auction people have been asking for American girls,” Dad says. “People who are likely not to be missed. Unfortunately, the prep school will not be a good place for that. I’ll have to find someone willing to work for me at the public high school.”
“The Reyes girl has been making waves, I heard,” Mom mutters. “I was forced to listen to Emil drone on about the newspaper fiasco and then later the glitch in the gradebook. It would be lovely if we could pinch her right out of her life.”
“She’d bring us really great money,” Dad says with an evil chuckle.
No. Mine. I’m not sure where the feeling comes from, but I don’t want her to disappear. Not to mention, it would fuck up the bet. Yeah, that’s what I’m going with.
“Emil is very attached,” I say softly. This walk back to the car feels as if it’s taking forever, but I need to get this off my chest now. “He recently adopted her, after all. She’s also important to the Kings Society, because she’s the bet. The girl can’t disappear without going unnoticed. I’m sure that would be bad for business.”
It’s both a warning and information, sandwiched so my parents won’t think I’m challenging them. It’s a very careful dance I’ve been practicing for years. If I ever have children, I never want them to be as scared of me as I am of my parents.
I’m only important to my parents for as long as I’m worth something to them as their heir. I’m not under the illusion that they actually love me, though.
Not anymore, not for a long time.
“Well, fuck,” Dad says. “I’ll hold out hope, but it sounds as if she’s too enmeshed into the tapestry of our society, darling.”
“It appears so,” Mom says, her blue-eyed gaze heavy on me as we finally arrive at the car. “We have more to show you, son. We’re going to dinner first, though. It’s been a long string of flights.”
I can’t imagine what dinner will bring, knowing what I do now about my parents. Whatever it is, I’ll have to hope that my stomach is strong enough to deal with it.
I pulled the little mouse’s ass from the fire, which means she now owes me. I own her soul, her every breath, she just doesn’t know it yet. I guess I really am my parents’ child if I’m thinking about Rachelle as a possession.
The difference is, I don’t want to share or give away my toy. There will be no way she’ll be able to get away from the wave of terror coming her way when I return to the states. I hate the idea that we may be the same in some way.
I’m stronger, both mentally and physically. I refuse to believe that I share any attributes with her.
Hold tight to any joy you find while I’m gone, little mouse. It may be the last for a long time. I’m coming for you.