23. Venetia
Venetia
T he walk back to our bedroom is a pensive one. I’m racking my brain trying to think of a way out of this mess that doesn’t include more carnage, but I can’t see one. This appears to be an all guns blazing affair if I ever saw one.
Blake pushes the door open, and I cross over to the window, staring out over the grounds.
The guys are silent behind me, knowing that I don’t want to talk.
The guilt I feel over refusing Baker his daughter’s dead body is eating me alive, but the fact that he walked away is something. They left, but they won’t be far away.
They will be back, though, and probably sooner than we are ready for.
My phone buzzes on the bedside cabinet. I turn and frown at it. Crossing over to pick it up, I see it’s a No Caller ID.
“Answer it,” Blake says.
I nod and slide my finger over the screen, immediately switching to speaker so we can all hear. “Who is this?”
“Miss Corbyn-Hale, I presume? My name is Derek Knight. You’ve heard of me?”
I frown and exchange a look with Raff, who is closest to me. He nods. “I have,” I say carefully. It’s not a lie. I’ve heard of him. Nasty bastard, but gets shit done, is what my dad always says about him.
“Good. Open the gates.”
“No.”
He snorts softly. “Good answer, but you will open those gates, Miss Corbyn-Hale.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because St. Sebastian’s is now open for business.”
“Actually, it’s shut for renovations,” I state.
He pauses and then huffs out a breath. “There are at least a dozen families outside these gates, Miss Corbyn-Hale, with our legacies. They appear to have made a grave error in abandoning the academy when it needed them most. I can assure you, they have been informed of the consequences of their bad choices.”
Blake raises an eyebrow.
“Their bad choices left them alive,” I point out. “You’ve heard about the mass poisoning?”
“We did, so I suppose you have a point. But so do we. St. Sebastian’s has been our alma mater for centuries. Our families go back to the foundations of St. Seb’s. We don’t abandon the hand that fed us.”
“Noble. But I’m in the middle of something here that will likely reshape the entire academy and its structure, so you might want to rethink sending your kids here.”
“The trafficking, yes?”
I pause. “What of it?”
“Open the gates, Miss Corbyn-Hale.”
“I can’t do that, Mr Knight.”
Blake shakes his head and holds his hand up. “Mr Knight, do you know who I am?”
“Blake Locke. The man responsible for our near ruin.”
“Right. So you know we aren’t just going to open the gates to be gunned down by you and your crew.”
“I have no intention of gunning anyone down. Unless you make me.”
“What is your purpose for wanting your kids here in the middle of this shitstorm?” I interrupt.
“This academy means something to us, Miss Corbyn-Hale. We want it back.”
“To traffick people through?” I snarl.
“God, no. I can assure you that is not our purpose.”
“We need a gesture of good faith,” Blake says.
“How about a box of information that will lead you directly to the main hub in Newcastle?”
Blake and I stare at each other. He nods.
“You have information that can take down this operation?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“So why have you never used it?”
“Taking on something that has nothing to do with my business, isn’t my business.”
“Really?” I drawl. “So, fuck the people who are suffering as long as you get to continue your business in peace.”
“You will learn one day, Miss Corbyn-Hale, that some battles are worth fighting and some are not.”
“You’re saying this isn’t worth fighting for?”
“It wasn’t, until it became personal.”
“Meaning St. Seb’s?”
“Precisely.”
“Bring me the box, and we’ll see.”
“It’s right here. I don’t bring knives to gun fights.”
“And what exactly can your son bring to this shower of shit, Mr Knight? Apart from running from a fight?”
“Cole brings penance and a new attitude,” he growls.
I actually feel sorry for Cole.
“Fine, show me the box.”
Knight chuckles. “I’m standing on the other side of a grungy moat, and your drawbridge is up. What would you like me to do? Throw it at you?”
I roll my eyes. “We’re coming down. Know that we have Rafferty Warrick in the clock tower…” I nod at him, and he goes off again to be our sniper. “… he will shoot you between the eyes if you even twitch.”
“You make a good threat, Miss Corbyn-Hale. I can assure you, our interests align.” The line goes dead.
I stare at the dead phone in my hand, my mind racing through possibilities and pitfalls.
Derek Knight. A man who makes most mafia bosses look like choirboys.
A man who supposedly has information that could end this trafficking nightmare, but who’s been sitting on it because it wasn’t his problem. Until now.
“This feels like a trap,” Viper growls, his navy eyes fixed on me with laser intensity.
“Everything feels like a trap right now,” I mutter, shoving the phone into my pocket. “But if he’s telling the truth about that information...”
“Then we’re one step closer to ending this,” Blake finishes, already moving toward his tablet. “Knight’s reputation precedes him. He’s ruthless, but he’s not known for elaborate deceptions. If he says he has intel, he probably does.”
“We do this carefully. Blake, I need you to look through whatever shit he’s got in this box. I need to know if it’s legit before we let anyone back into this academy.”
“You’re seriously considering reopening the doors to these families?” Viper asks.
“Call me crazy, but yeah. Our plan was never to be holed up here alone. We were isolated by Beacon and his orders. We can’t leave, or St. Seb’s is done for. This is our stronghold, and we need backup.”
“And you trust these guys?”
“Right now, no. But if Knight gives us credible information on how to attack the Graduate ring at its core, then I’m willing to sleep with one eye open.”
Viper nods grimly. He gets it. He doesn’t like it, but he gets it. “Let’s go.”
We move silently through the academy and out into the late afternoon sun. I look up at the clock tower and see Rafferty in position. That reassures me slightly. Viper has his gun in his hand as we make our way slowly over the grounds to the gates.
He and Blake handle the drawbridge, which appears to be moving a bit easier now with more use. It lands with a crash, and Blake moves to the security building to unlock the electronic gates, while Viper sticks to my side like glue.
My eyes widen as I see three men wheeling four boxes each over the drawbridge with Knight and Cole walking behind them. The men step back and position themselves behind their boss.
“You said a box,” I say, pursing my lips.
“A storage box,” Knight smirks.
“You have been sitting on all of this, and you’ve done nothing about it?”
“Accurate information takes time and effort to collect, Miss Corbyn-Hale.”
“And you’re sure this is accurate?”
“I would bet my son’s life on it.”
I shoot my gaze to Cole, who gulps but then stares at me with a blank expression he definitely learned from his dad. I shift my glance to the rest of the families gathered on the other side of the moat. “What do they bring?”
Knight glances back at the assembled families, his expression calculating.
“Numbers. Firepower. Resources we’ll need if we’re going to take down an operation this size.
You’d have to negotiate with them.” He gestures to the boxes.
“My intel shows the Newcastle hub processes over three hundred people a month. You think the four of you can handle that alone?”
My intel. So, this is less of a group effort, and more of a pain in my arse than I was hoping for. Logic dictates I can’t just let them all in on their say-so. I have to do this right. Gestures of good faith, and all that.
Blake steps closer, his green eyes fixed on the boxes. He slips through the gates and closes them behind him. He lifts one of the boxes down and removes the lid. He goes into Blake-mode while the rest of us stand there silently, waiting, watching.
Blake’s methodical examination stretches on for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes.
I watch his face, looking for any tell that might indicate whether Knight’s intel is legitimate or elaborate bullshit.
His expression remains maddeningly neutral as he sifts through documents and photographs.
“Well?” I finally ask, my patience wearing thin.
“It’s comprehensive,” Blake says, not looking up from a folder thick with photographs. “Locations, personnel files, financial records, shipping manifests. If this is fabricated, it’s the most elaborate con I’ve ever seen.”
Knight’s smile is as sharp as a blade. “I don’t deal in fiction, Miss Corbyn-Hale. Every piece of paper in those boxes represents months of surveillance and intelligence gathering.”
I study his face, looking for the lie I’m certain must be there. No one sits on information this valuable without a compelling reason. “Why now? What changed?”
“You did.” His gaze shifts to the academy behind me.
“The Graduates made a mistake when they decided to use St. Sebastian’s as their recruitment ground.
This place is sacred to families like mine.
They crossed a line. St. Seb’s has always had a leader, a king or queen, but you have taken that to the next level, Venetia.
” His use of my name gives me chills. “You are truly worthy of the honour.”
I feel like I should say thank you, but that’s just dumb and makes me sound like I’m looking for approval. The fact is, though, I am. In whatever way I can get it to let me know I have a purpose and that I can fulfil that purpose, that my life will have meaning before it’s snuffed out.
“The families deserve to know their children are safe,” Knight continues, his voice cutting through my existential crisis. “They deserve to be part of the solution, not left standing outside while you decide their fate.”
I look back at Blake, who’s still absorbed in the documents. “How long do you need to verify this properly?”