32. Ari
CHAPTER 32
ARI
“ A lexa asked me to tell you that Ace is Jackson Fuller. She also said she’ll handle him.”
Interesting, but not surprising. The curious part? Why was Chase calling me and not Alexa herself?
“Is Alexa okay?”
The long pause told me everything I needed to know, and my chest tightened.
Finally, Chase whispered, “I had to sedate her. I feel sick myself.”
“What happened?”
“She got access to Jackson Fuller’s computer.”
“Was it child porn?” Oh fuck. “Tell me it wasn’t child porn?”
“It was worse.”
“Worse? What could be worse?”
“How much do you know about red rooms?”
Red rooms? Those dark web livestreams where people were tortured and killed on camera? I’d heard of them, but…
“I thought those were a myth.” Hell. “They’re not a myth? ”
“Four seats costing fifty thousand bucks each. Anonymous monsters typing suggestions in the chat box, describing how they want a human to suffer. We watched a girl die last night, and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t save her.”
I sat down hard. So hard I missed the couch and landed on the floor with a crash, bringing a coffee mug and a lamp with me.
“Shit.”
“You okay?”
“Did you seriously just ask that?”
Running footsteps sounded, and Erin skidded into the doorway. “You okay? Oh, wow, I’ll grab a cloth.”
I couldn’t tell her about this. Erin didn’t need any more sleepless nights, not when her own life had just changed for the better, or rather, been changed by Rusty. I knew they were sleeping together. The soundproofing in the room they were sharing wasn’t as good as they thought it was. And you know what? I was happy for them. The first twenty-two years of Erin’s life had been an exercise in survival, and if she’d found a glimmer of happiness with a handsome, wealthy hockey player who seemed to be even more of a gentleman than Zach was, she deserved every second of it.
“Sorry,” Chase said.
“Are you certain it was Jackson Fuller?”
“We watched him jerking off on his webcam as the stream played.”
Bile came up. I retched and managed to swallow it back down.
“We’ve all been there,” Chase soothed. “Welcome to the Choir.”
“I’m only Choir-fucking-adjacent, you idiot. You need to tell someone about this. The cops, someone.”
“Alexa was working with the FBI and Interpol the whole night. At times, she acts like a lone wolf, but she knows how to play nicely with others when the need arises.”
“Did they identify the girl? They’re going to catch whoever’s doing this, right?”
“Not yet, and I certainly hope so. Alexa will call you when she’s able, but you need to leave Jackson Fuller alone. Don’t speak with him, don’t follow him, don’t tip him off. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Sin meandered in, crunching on potato chips, and she must have seen how green I looked.
“Oh, he told you?”
Erin was right behind her with a roll of paper towels. “I couldn’t find a dustpan, but Rusty’s still looking.”
Crap, she was using that overly cheerful voice she put on when she was upset but pretending she wasn’t. Had she overheard that conversation? I frantically replayed it in my mind. There was the bit about the cops, but I hadn’t mentioned red rooms on my end.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
“Erin…”
“Some girls recognised Rusty when we were out a couple of days ago, that’s all. I told them we were just friends, but now there’s a rumour on BuzzHub that I’m his girlfriend.”
“And you’re not?”
“No, I am. I know it’s irrational because the Promised Land doesn’t even have TV, but what if the Prophet sends someone to bring me back?”
“Doesn’t he have enough on his hands with sixty-seven wives?”
She shrugged. “I sure hope so. ”
“Don’t worry about that weirdo,” Sin said. “We got your back.”
“You do?”
“Of course. One completely unconnected question: how do you feel about obituaries?”
Erin’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t kill the Prophet.”
“The man has wives everywhere—he isn’t going to notice one more. And they all wear those big dresses and the ugly little white bonnets. Do you know how easy it is to hide a knife in an outfit like that?”
I took a deep breath. “Maybe we could just hold off on the obituaries for now?”
A shrug, and Sin ate another handful of potato chips. “Your choice.”