Chapter 35 Thea
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THEA
The concrete ramp curls and twists like a corkscrew, its surface slick from the drizzling rain that seems to follow me.
It wasn’t raining when I left, managing my way down from the window.
Black gym shorts stick to my thighs, wet and sloppy.
My hair clings to my cheeks and neck, the ends dripping water down my spine where it seeps into the black tank underneath my zip-up.
I lick the raindrops from my lips as I creep around the nearly empty parking garage, my upper lip gritty with dirt.
When I landed in the front yard, any semblance of grace or poise flew out the window in the opposite direction.
I practically face-planted the ground when I landed, and since then I’ve wiped my face, the hedge leaves from my hair, and the sweat from my neck.
I haven’t seen a mirror, but I bet I’m the picture of dirty.
It was dark when I left, but it didn’t dampen the fact that my eyes were greedy for sights other than Slade’s lake house. I had to walk for over an hour, but anytime a neon sign blinked in the dark, or a car drove past, a thrill slithered through my veins.
Each of my steps echoes along the low ceiling, and I cringe.
The air smells stagnant, a mix of rain, oil, and a sharp metallic smell that churns my already queasy stomach.
I keep to the shadows, grateful for the cloudy skies and the blown security lights.
This garage isn’t kept up, only used by desperate drivers when parking for the newly constructed garage is full.
It was the only place I could think of on such short notice, the only place I figured I had a shot of meeting someone before …
I hold my breath. Let’s not finish that.
Be brave. Bloom where you’re not meant to grow.
I really hope this mantra isn’t going to get me killed, but there’s something empowering about being here.
Many of the girls’ faces rapid-fire through my mind, the ache on my side reminding me of all they have to lose.
I don’t want to die, but I don’t want to live a life where I gave up on the girls, either.
I squeeze between two older sedans and scan for movement.
I didn’t specify where to meet Piper, if she’ll even show up at all.
Somewhere nearby, a car door slams, and it sends my pulse skittering.
I slow down, crouching low enough to wait out any passing vehicles, but there’s nothing.
I chew at my cheeks, so much so a metallic taste floods my mouth as I break through the skin.
The rain picks up, pooling into puddles within the sloped potholes of the worn asphalt. The morning rain isn’t particularly cold, but I pull up the zipper of my sweatshirt to fight a shiver.
A shadow moves to my right, catching my attention, but the person behind it is hidden. Suddenly, they sneeze. It’s sharp, bouncing off the concrete support pillars, but the faint, delicate sniff that comes right after makes me pause.
Blonde hair, piled into a bun, pokes out from behind a pillar, and when Piper’s face finally follows, I glance around and make a move toward her.
When I reveal myself from between the cars, her eyes widen.
My attention goes to the black, handheld device in her hand that my mind recognizes as a recorder, but as I get closer, twin metal prongs gleam at the tip.
Her thumb rests above a switch, and she removes it after seeing me and tucks it away. I’m sure I’ll never be the intimidating type, not like Juliette, but the idea of my being viewed as such a non-threat is agitating.
Piper steps forward, dressed in a black pencil skirt and a blue pinstriped button-down, as if this were an actual interview. Press pass credentials are clipped to her hip, and a pair of glasses hangs in the V of her shirt. She sneezes again, and the nest of a bun on her head jerks with a flip.
“Sorry, I swear I’m allergic to the rain. Thea?” She offers me a smile, but I don’t return it.
Instead, I move straight in front of her and grab her arm. “Shh. We can’t be too loud.”
She recoils and narrows her eyes at me. “Okay …” she drags out.
“You are Thea, right? I mean, I was not expecting to get an email at the ass-crack of dawn from someone corroborating my theories on a secret society here in Chicago. Do you mind if I record this?” She digs around in her skirt, popping a hip to the side, and pulls out her phone.
Where she hauled that out from is anyone’s guess.
“Shh,” I say again.
Her eyes ping-pong back and forth between mine. “Oh, boy …” she says. “Are you a patient somewhere? Did you get ahold of my stories, and now you think—”
“I’m not a patient,” I snap, but this journalist is making me feel like perhaps I am. Did I live through this? Escape? Fall in love? Or have I lost it altogether and really do belong in a mental institution? Will she believe me? Will anyone?
Stop, Thea. Focus. Help them.
“My name is Thea Harmon. I was sold by my—” I freeze. I haven’t thought this through. How much do I want to say? Anything I say, she’ll record, and if she records … Damn it. “Someone. I was sold by someone and ended up trafficked to an underground society.”
Piper smiles, and I want to smack her. She must realize her expression because she screws up her glee and plasters a frown on her face.
“I-I’m sorry that happened to you, Thea.
But I’ve had a theory about some of these rich businessmen.
I knew they weren’t just jet-setting around the world. Did you say trafficked?”
“Listen. There are more of us. I was able to get out, but they need help. Law enforcement is embedded with EV. They won’t help, and the ones that try are eliminated. There are some very powerful people in play here.”
“EV?” She shoves her phone farther toward my face.
“Echelon Vanguard. The society. Listen, these people will come after you. They have trained hunters, ex-mafia members. Money flows freely for them. They can pay off anyone to keep quiet … and it’s rare someone escapes. Even when they do, they’re terrified about the repercussions if they speak out.”
Piper juts out her chin. “The powerful might be able to dodge the law, but they can’t dodge headlines.”
I shake my head. “We have to be careful. They will come for you and anyone you claim to love.”
She taps a finger to her chin like what I just said doesn’t even bother her. “I have some theories on members. Do you recognize any of these names? Graves, DuPont, Vignola—”
I wince. I can’t implicate Slade, can I? Technically, he shares a name with his grandfather, but I can’t give him away. That’s not why I’m here. I need EV exposed; I need the girls safe.
Doubt creeps in. What if the story isn’t handled correctly?
What if EV is tipped off before the evidence is stacked against them and the public?
In my mind, this was going to be tied up with a pretty bow.
I go to the journalist with the “balls” to bring them down, they publish the story, EV goes away.
God, Thea. How naive can you be? They’ll go away all right …
right out of existence, including the girls who can testify against them.
“I, uh, no. I mean, maybe. Graves, possibly.” I fib, glancing to the side at a flickering bulb covered in cobwebs overhead.
This is wrong. This is all wrong. I thought outside the society would be better, that if I sought someone who truly believed in the possibility of a secret organization filled with untouchable men doing illegal activities that they’d be appalled.
Piper isn’t at all. She’s elated. This is her next big story; a vindication that all her time and resources spent digging were worth it.
She hasn’t lived through the humiliation of the Market, seen the crushed spirits of young girls taken or sold into a life of abandon—made to denounce themselves or forsake who they are at their core to please men.
She hasn’t experienced the panic, the haunting anticipation, the torment of being left to stew in your own imagination.
I suck in a breath that smells of damp concrete and stale exhaust, tears springing to my eyes. I left him.
“Hey, are you okay? It’s going to be okay.” Piper rubs my arm, putting away her phone. “Let’s get you some food, and we can talk—”
The screech is immediate, and the rubber claws the ramp of the level we’re on.
The sound slices through Piper’s words as a black SUV shoots around the corner, its headlights cutting through the hazy, shadowed light.
I drag a hand up to my forehead, blinded, only to see another set of lights right on its tail.
Both slam to a stop, the smell of burned tires filling the air.
Doors fly open in unison, and men spill out.
I backpedal, bumping into Piper, who’s frozen.
Dark coats, hard faces, the glint of weapons on their hips. I gasp.
Turning, I clamp a hand on Piper’s arm, shoving her through the two pillars. “Run!”
She shrieks, her heels clacking against the concrete as she slips. I haul her up as their footsteps close in. We take off, Piper ahead of me. With how little I’ve used them in the past months, my legs burn as we head up the incline. Piper flies toward a lone car, ducking behind it.
“Keep going!” When I glance behind me, the four men split off, and my eyes widen as the driver of the first car revs their engine behind them. “Go!”
Piper slips again, losing a heel. She reaches back to grab it.
“Leave it!” I grab her hand, dragging her upward to the next level. My shoes slap along while her feet limp to keep up. My heart rapid-fires—it’s not enough.
There’s more of them. Men speed up, gaining on us. They roll in faster, and I shove her behind an old beater van parked near a set of steps, skidding to a stop in the shadows. “Go! You need to go, and don’t stop. They won’t stop hunting you.”
Piper stares at me, wide-eyed. Her bun is now a wild mess, strands clinging to her long lashes, and a button on her shirt is hanging by a single thread—she looks wrecked and terrified.
I did this. I brought her here, and I’m not going to let her get sucked into this world, this life.
She needs to be around. She’s the only one with enough information outside the society, right?
Only she can help the girls now. Unless there’s someone else out there.
Her chest rises and falls, mouth gaping at me. “W-what about you?”
“There!” one man yells.
“Now!” I bark, tearing free from the veil of the van.
I stand and step out, blocking Piper as she spins and takes off.
My chest splits, but I force my legs steady, meeting the glares of the guards head-on.
They grab me with a forceful grip, but I don’t flinch.
I don’t fight. As I’m wrestled toward the car, my gaze goes to the rain and the dark clouds behind it.
I’m not sure where I’ll end up: sold to another organization, miles around the world in another country, or six feet below solid dirt.
I just hope I don’t disappear. If they bury me deep, I hope whatever takes root pushes through the earth.
A dandelion, wild and sure, that scatters seeds into every place they don’t want me.
I hope those seeds take root, and that they bloom where they aren’t meant to grow to put pressure on EV and crack its facade.
Slade … perhaps someday he’ll see me as the brave woman who once stole his heart, and know that I loved him, even though I never got the chance to tell him. Thank him.
Hot tears spill from my face as I think about him, how he saved me. Don’t stop fighting, Slade.
“Why do we fall, Sir?” Alfred’s voice from Batman Begins echoes in my mind as the back door to the SUV opens. “So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.”
I’m shoved inside, and the gentle British timbre of Alfred’s voice is interrupted by the slithering snake oil of none other than Henry DuPont. “Ah, seven-fifty-five. Wonderful to see you again.”