Chapter 32 Indie
Indie
Use Somebody - Kings of Leon
I’ve hunted everywhere for Saint; I need him to give me the answers Rex wouldn’t offer.
He said it was best coming from Saint, and I think he’s purposely sent me on a wild goose chase, because I haven’t been able to find him anywhere, and it’s not exactly like he’s hard to notice.
Taking a left down the corridor near our bedroom, I scour through the side of the wing I haven’t explored before.
The Pit is ginormous, and I still haven’t managed to explore it all; it’s like a maze.
When I reach the door at the very end of the long corridor, I peer up to see Saint’s name engraved in a brass plaque.
Instead of being polite and knocking, I barge straight in, seeing as my hour’s worth of a pursuit has begun to aggravate me.
The door opens up to a large office, although that would be downplaying its sheer size.
The room is dipped in darkness, an executive-sized desk centred in the middle of the room, but what’s most daunting of all is the colossal volume of screens cladded across the entire back wall.
Twenty, to be exact.
Some are switched off, but the ones that aren’t appear to be CCTV from around the building, each broken into four viewpoints feeding from every angle, showing possible entry and escape routes, all the way out into the woods.
Nothing seems to get in and out of here without someone knowing, and that doesn’t account for the eyes already on the ground.
The only light being provided is the ashy glow radiating from the feeds, and my gaze travels as I take in the surroundings.
His office is like a central hub. There’s a leather sofa nestled between filing cabinets stretching across the far end wall.
I reach the computer placed on the desk, running my finger along the oak surface as the light hits my face, the words on the screen staring back at me.
Ultio.
I force a swallow. I know exactly what that means, and that it relates to whatever Saint has built here.
An army, a militia?
Doesn’t matter what you categorise it as, it’s a cause designed to bring down Omnia, and its motives are to reap vengeance.
Something catches in the corner of my eye, and my gaze travels over to the wall on my right.
Curiosity gets the better of me as I mindlessly walk over.
A huge board is pinned to the wall, photos, writing, and dates all interlinked.
Like something you’d see in a detective’s office, working to locate the killer of the crime they want to crack.
This…is Omnia’s operation.
They’re trying to piece together their structure, their movements.
Some of the information is mission, and others look like they’ve had the pictures removed, either signalling they’ve been taken care of, or are no longer a threat.
I glance up to the top, and sure enough, Conrad and George Montgomery are centred as the kingpins of the entire operation.
Along with their father.
Those sick fucks. No wonder they never got in trouble for what they did; their own father has handed them the rights to their own sick fantasy.
His position as a federal judge allows him the power to keep what they have safe.
Kingstone is more corrupt than I could ever have imagined.
My jaw grinds, my breathing coming in short, sharp bursts when I think of how they run that entire society. This sick, twisted, fucked-up delusion they’re living in.
Saint mentioned this had been going on for years, and if they’re heirs to this, it can only mean the entire bloodline was involved, before it handed down the reins to both those spawns.
The judge is also on my own personal list.
I haven’t forgotten his words, even after all this time.
Regina doesn’t know. He’s one I’m going to get on my own.
I’ll make sure he’s well aware who’s responsible for exposing their sick acts to the entire world. I’ll make sure he watches as I take the last of his name, that their family name will end with me.
My raging eyes trace the lines that spread outside the society’s structure. Another photo has been removed, but the one that remains pulls me in, a woman.
She looks to be in her early thirties, dark hair, and absolutely beautiful.
She’s smiling in it, and she looks familiar, though I can’t put my finger on it. I’ve never seen her before.
This photo looks old, like it was taken on a disposable camera.
I step in closer until awareness prickles up my spine, and I already know who’s in the room with me.
“Who is that?” I ask, dragging my eyes from the photo to Saint.
He has the stealth of a panther. It’s something he’s obviously mastered in our time apart, only letting me know he’s there when he wants me to.
He’s leaning against the desk, tattooed muscles entirely on show from his tank shirt; he’s either had long sleeves or T-shirts the entire time I’ve been here.
Always has a bulletproof vest on, like he sleeps with the dang thing.
My eyes greedily take him in, his once bare skin completely inked as the designs snake under the hems. His voice is rough when he speaks.
“My mum.”
Every muscle in my body stiffens, letting that statement seep in.
“What?” I breathe, finally able to look back at the picture.
Oh my God.
I see it now, why she seems so familiar.
He has the same eyes.
The smile.
It was always a rare occasion to see Saint smile, always a smirk or a wry one intertwined with wickedness. Those rare moments he would offer a genuine one, it felt like a blessing, a gift he saved for only those closest to him.
He pushes from the desk, slowly walking towards me as he leans his shoulder on the wall, facing me. The greys in his eyes hum as he glares at the photo.
“She was a lecturer, spent time at our university for a research opportunity. She was only supposed to be there for one term.” The muscles ripple along his jaw. “She never got on the flight home.”
He plucks the photo of her from the wall, rubbing the glossy paper between his fingers. “Dad spent weeks over here. Reported it to the police. They weren’t much fucking help.” He scoffs, and a shiver runs down my spine, a familiar unease gripping my throat.
“He searched the entire city, asking people if they’d seen her”—he taps the photo with his thumb—“tracked down her colleagues to get some information. One of them mentioned she’d dropped a student off, gave a vague direction that led to the Archives.”
When Saint eventually drags his gaze up to me, he looks murderous.
“She’d given them a ride as a helping hand, because that was the kind of person Mum was. She’d taken them to the graduation party…he broke in, got hold of the information he needed, along with the confirmation that they were responsible for her going missing.”
My stomach knots at the realisation as I breathe his name. “Saint.”
“When he got back to his hotel, he found out what they did to her from a recording, along with countless others.” He sighs, staring down at the picture as his face softens. “Dad said he was glad she wasn’t conscious for any of it.”
A tear slips from my cheek. I’m not able to fathom what it would be like to witness a recording of such a sick misdeed being done to the person you love.
It’s unfathomable.
It’s hard enough living with the broken memory of what they did to you, but the fact they recorded it, for their own sick pleasure…
Bile rises up my throat.
“That was when he decided he needed to be here permanently. Changed our surnames legally before we emigrated, so we could stay under the radar. After a year of searching, the chances decreased on finding her alive.”
I stare at him in disbelief. I’ve always thought Blackwood was Saint’s surname, and the fact his father changed it, along with uphauling their entire lives…
No family should ever have to do that.
“He’d asked students about Sumus, and no one had ever heard the name outside of Latin classes, only that there were rumours of an elite bunch of families able to join a club for some powerful career benefits, but you and I both know that’s surface level.”
“Is this what he’s been doing this entire time he’s been here?” I ask, my voice husky as I fight the emotion in my throat.
He bobs his head. “The entire sixteen years here has been spent finding out everything possible and building an underground entity for me. You’d be surprised by the connections you make through his line of work, and if Dad’s good at one thing, it’s networking.”
“How did he find out about Omnia?” I ask.
I can’t remember seeing anything about them in the Archives.
“It was Dawson and me, actually. A couple weeks before I left”—he eyes me, treading over our breakup like broken glass—“we went to the Archives to get into their network. When he cracked it, we found hundreds of videos. They not only need to do a heinous act to prove their loyalty on graduation, but the ones taken weeks after, they’re more like a ritual.
They had to name their conquest, provide the proof, and they were granted their lifelong benefits of joining Omnia.
” He sticks the photo back on the wall between us, his hands sliding down the concrete.
“That’s when I found the confirmation we needed for closure on Mum. ”
“I’m so sorry, Saint,” I whisper, and I react on instinct, walking forward to wrap my arms around his waist.
He grips me to him, his chin resting on top of my head, hand stroking down the hair along my back.
My chest feels like someone’s clawing their way out. Having to witness all those acts taking place, and for what?
Power?
Control?
Who the hell needs to destroy someone so badly in order to want that?
Sniffing, I squeeze him a little tighter. “They sound like a fucking cult.”
Rituals. Video evidence. Eternal benefits.
How the hell have they gotten away with this for so long?
Saint’s thumb rubs back and forth against my nape, and his touch is instantly soothing. “You could say that. Their members don’t even realise they’re being controlled; their silence is demanded through blackmail they willingly hand over for greed. They get a kick from what they do.”
I remember him saying Clarke had a hidden CCTV feed in his home; not only did it keep a constant eye on him, it also catapulted me into their world.
Saint pulls back from me, looking down at me through hooded eyes.
“Omnia runs this entire state, Indie. They’re rooted into the system.
From justice, all the way down to the police, it’s weaved to serve them.
They won’t let anyone get in their way of stopping what they have.
You’ll find those people are either a part of it or paid well enough to help them stay hidden. ”
Ice breezes against my skin, and I think of all the women that have come to harm, and it looks as though Regina and I barely managed to get away, if it wasn’t for Saint, Rex and Jenna.
Anger bubbles away inside me, at what happened to me and my friends, to Saint’s mom.
It makes me wonder whether this entire state has been silently tortured.
Saint cups my face, forcing me to look up to him, reading the murderous look in my eyes. “I need you to listen to me. You and Regina? I already know. You’re not going after the twins alone. You leave them to me. I won’t risk you.”
I should be lulled by his protectiveness, that it’s still there after all this time, albeit the threats a little more real.
But his words drone out, because that vengeance that always simmers away inside me?
It rages until boiling point.
That darkness that always slinks in the background threatens to ink through my vision.