Chapter 33
Olivier—present day
Ilistened to her mumbling to herself as I walked into her cell. Gray walls and lack of decoration welcomed the cold demeanor I’d pretended I’d adopted since working here.
It had been ten years. Ten years, where I’d had to bite my tongue to stop myself from screaming with the many different girls as they died. Ten years, where I watched painful deaths; the sound of necks snapping played in my head, haunting me and invading my mind every time I tried to count sheep.
Nothing helped with the sleepless nights.
The guilt was too strong.
I’d forced myself into this role. It was never meant for me. . . not until they took her—the woman I was in love with.
It was pure coincidence.
Wrong place, wrong time, wrong fucking person.
She was walking to a date with me—dinner under the trillions of pretty stars. I insisted on picking her up, but Miss Independent wanted to walk, even in her big heels and tight dress, as it wasn’t that far from home.
I negotiated, and we ended up on a call while she took a shortcut through a field, where her heels sinking into the grass had her complaining, but that would all change when she found me on the other side, waiting to propose.
I was sitting on a pretty bench, close to an embankment that showed the whole of LA. A basket sat at my side, filled with her favorite things to eat and a bottle of cheap champagne—she preferred the cheap stuff. And I enjoyed how she acted after drinking it—carefree and so fucking sexy.
The sound of sirens in the background reminded me of my busy day at work. Their screeching was loud, but I still heard a man approach her, then another, then another.
They’d been following her, and before she could shout about which way she was traversing, they’d taken her phone and stomped on it.
I ran around in circles, seeing nothing until a break in the trees showed me three men—none of whom sounded native to this state—pushing her into the back of a black van. The badge was missing, removed to stop anyone from having details that would have them found quicker.
I rushed from the trees, the branches pushing me forward, but not fast enough. The van disappeared into the night, the dirty plates blending into the dark surroundings.
I stopped dead, my world collapsing around me, pulling me down onto my knees. The concrete road hurt me, but I didn’t scream over that. But, fuck, I screamed.
My life was over, and all I had left were dreams that would never come true.
The police—my department—failed me. They knew the chances of my girl being found were slim, and they had other cases to attend to. Ones easier to solve.
I walked out, never to set foot in that building again.
I moved to the other side of the law.
That was how I got here—forcing myself to stomach the industry I hated. I’d taken a few hints from my department before leaving. I clutched at straws, sucking in any information I could get.
I needed an in.
And I found one, hunting through closed case files. One victim who’d escaped had given details of one guy’s rental and his appearance—a shabby-looking cottage. Gold teeth—I took in all the details.
I showed up at his house, but he wasn’t there. He’d moved out more than a year earlier. The new owner seemed nice—on the surface. But I knew to look beneath that. I blurted it straight out, telling the man with a false smile that I wanted in, that I wanted to sample and sell.
His eyes, big and blue, sparkled with a new light as I pulled rolls of dollar bills from my pocket. Money talks, and I made sure to come full of conversation. I’d sold my house, my car, everything I owned to do so.
He made a call, roving his cellphone camera down my body as he explained to someone called Badeaux why he thought I’d be an asset to their business.
After seeing me for himself, Badeaux agreed.
My looks ensured I got in. I was bigger than most. Six-four and with a face that could charm the world. I moved around the country, settling under the command of the hierarchy in Georgia, but as time went on, I wasn’t out on the field, pulling in girls, boys, whoever would come.
I became more than that.
I became the backbone of this branch—one of too fucking many—while Badeaux—the brains—drifted between here and Europe.
This company wasn’t the one who had taken my girl; it was a rival. A much bigger fish in a turbulent ocean. We were the sharks, with our beady eyes on everyone.
I found the other company within six months of looking, but it was already shut down, burned to the ground by our big boss who didn’t appreciate the competition so close to his turf. Which was funny, because he owned half the fucking world.
What wasn’t funny was, my girl was already sold. And with all the documents burned to dust, there was no way for me to find her.
But I didn’t give up, and I vowed to somehow, bring this empire—this massive worldwide fucking dominion of filth—to the ground.
I was saving the odd girl or boy on the sneak. I couldn’t save the entire world—or, all the unfortunate souls wishing to see it again.
I was no longer a hero.
I was a villain, haggling with my lack of purity. Acting out two wrongs and one right.
Even if I wasn’t here, girls would be brought in, boys, too. If I could save just one, I would. . . and it would all be worth it.
And there she was. My one.
She lay on the cold stone floor, no blanket over her shivering body.
She was whispering, her face moving beneath a burlap sack with the delivery of each word she spoke.
Her hands stroked an invisible cat—a kitten she’d been calling Bushy as she relived the same daydream over and over, day in, day out.
Jolie’s story was a painful one for me. I’d already met her once before when I found her heading for the road to freedom.
I was driving the truck that picked her up, and I left her inside it when I got out.
I shouldn’t have.
We were on that land to pick up someone else. Someone we’d left at the edge of the road a few hours before.
Jarvis.
I hated the kinds of jobs that involved him, but I didn’t get to pick and choose back then.
I knew why the sick fuck was visiting that house.
He was there to abuse the young daughter.
I wanted to kill him for it, but I couldn’t.
My superior—one of many back then—owned the home.
And he allowed it. Allowed his child to be violated for a price.
I had to pick my battles, and that one wasn’t my fight to win.
But nothing went to plan that night.
Jolie neared, looking much more battered than I remembered her, and in desperate need of help, and I’d have given it—by taking her to a nearby town—if it wasn’t for the man at my side, who was already out of the vehicle before I’d fully applied the brake, dragging her into the back while she screamed and pleaded.
He hit her head against the door, injuring her already bleeding skull.
He tossed her unconscious body into the backseat and jumped back in the front.
“Drive,” he ordered, and that was when I realized, I couldn’t save her, either. . . not yet.
But as my truck crept over the gravel, and I saw Jarvis lying face down in the grassy field, his body mutilated by a shotgun, I felt elevated.
“Damn.” The voice at my side overpowered the low hum of music playing from the speakers. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. This is beyond our paycheck.”
He was right. . . nothing was worth dying for. Nothing except saving a purer life.
I searched ahead, wondering if our superior had had a change of heart and killed Jarvis because he didn’t want his daughter hurt, but I already knew that wasn’t the case. I’d seen how he’d treated his son, and it proved, the man had no fucking heart.
Orange flames tickled the night air. Black smoke was everywhere, blending in with the dark clouds.
“You go. I’m gonna check it out.” I stopped the truck and opened the driver’s door.
Dami, my colleague—if you could call him that—wrapped his long, skinny fingers around my shoulder, pulling me back.
“Why?”
I didn’t know what to say, and I needed a lie to fall quickly off my tongue. “There are two other kids in that house. A little girl, as you know, and a teen boy. If they’re alive, it’s a promotion.” I shrugged him off.
“We wouldn’t get promoted for this shit. They are the boss’s kids. Get back in the truck, or I’m leaving you here. We could get fucking killed.”
“Jarvis is dead. Heaven probably is, too, or she wouldn’t be out here.” My head bobbed to the backseat, to Jolie bleeding on the dirty seat. “No one would know where they came from. If you wanna go, go.” I stepped out, and the next words I spoke broke my heart. “Take her.”
I figured I’d see her at some point in the next few days, assuming I didn’t get gunned down as I made my way down the path. And then I could work on getting her to safety.
I had no idea Jolie would be instantly moved out of state because big boss was in town.
And he didn’t want to have to look at the burn marks staining her skin, because he had some, too, and he fucking hated them.
I had no idea she’d be shoved from one state to another because no one wanted to pay for a woman that looked like she did.
Big boss wouldn’t lower her price, insisting on using her as a rental.
In the end, she became just that. Her face concealed, for years on end.
I slammed the door, and no sooner than I’d taken one step, Dami had jumped into my seat and was wheel-spinning the vehicle to turn it around.
The beefy tires crushed pretty flowers beneath them.
. . it reminded me of us—the sellers in this fucked-up industry—and the innocent beauties we had no right to ruin.
I jogged down the path, my pace steady and quick.
I saw the boy of the house burst through the doors as the walls came down. I watched as he ran as fast as he could across the land, jumping into the stream to drown the flames trying to swallow his body.