Chapter 7
Seven
“How much do you really know about him?” Aria asks, putting a gentle hand on my knee.
Nothing , I think, but I’m saved from answering when the timer goes off. Although “saved” isn’t the right word at all.
“Should I stay?” she asks as I start to scan the QR code again.
In a flash, I reach out and grab her hand. “Yes. Please, yes” My mouth feels dry, and I know my palm is sweating. I regret the words as I say them, but I don’t want to take them back. There’s horrible stuff on those recordings—I know that. Even though I don’t remember it, I know it.
And maybe I don’t want her to see the horrible stuff. But she’s my best friend, and I think I need her to. I think if I’m going to see it—if I’m going to start remembering it—I need someone who’ll share the burden. And that someone is, always has been, and always will be Aria.
She meets my eyes. Just one small nod, and I know she understands.
On the phone screen, nothing’s happening. Just that spinning wheel that suggests a bad connection. Aria and I look at each other, panicked, and I’m about to reboot the Wi-Fi when the screen turns solid black and white text pops up again.
$3,000,000
That’s all it says. Then the number starts to flash, and an obnoxious Woody Woodpecker-style laugh comes through the speaker. But it’s not a joke, as the voice soon tells me. A low, distorted voice that I’m certain is computer generated.
“Three days, Brianna,” the voice says as Aria opens her phone and taps an app to start recording. “Three days to gather three million. And because we are true gentlemen, the clock will not begin to run until noon tomorrow.”
A low, tinny laugh rolls out. “You think we are not gentlemen, but you would be wrong. We give you these extra hours. And we give you our word. The money in exchange for these videos deleted from the web, the hard copies delivered to you for either safekeeping or destruction. Three million for the certainty of peace for you. The promise that this little blip in your past will not come back to haunt you or the pretty little Stark princess again.
“We could renege on this promise, but we won’t. As we have said, we are gentlemen. And the rules are the rules. And one of those rules is that you must abide as well. Stray from the path, and you will pay a severe price.”
I wince. Not from the words so much as from the way Aria’s grip is squeezing the bones in my hand together. And from the panic that’s racing through me. Three-million dollars ? How the hell am I supposed to get three-million dollars?
“In case you doubt our sincerity, we take our lead from your very own Glindeon Brotherhood. That will be your price.”
Beside me, Aria gasps. The Glindeon Brotherhood is pure fiction. More than that, it’s fiction I created. An alliance of elf-demon hybrids who operate as a magical mafia that’s a constant threat to the heroine, Bethany. And the price they exact from anyone who crosses them is always high.
“As for the little girl’s payment for your failure….” The speaker trails off, that tinny, inhuman voice now fat with menace. “I’m sure the world will be more than interested to see what she witnessed. What she was part of. What you did in front of her.”
I hear myself whimper, and Aria squeezes my hand.
“No,” I whisper, my mouth so dry I can barely utter the words. “No, please, no.”
But the voice can’t hear me. It just drones on. “Defy us in any way and we shall blanket the media with videos and photos. Believe us when we say that the one we have already revealed to you is tame.”
I blink, forcing back tears, desperate for this voice to shut up, shut up, shut up . But it just drones on and on in that cold, brittle, heartless cadence.
“Perhaps that is what you want,” it continues. “After all, you would be thrust into the spotlight, too. Such notoriety would surely cause your career to soar. Who wouldn’t want to buy a book from a woman under such a spotlight?”
I sit up straighter, the heat of anger and fury forging me into steel.
“Isn’t notoriety the path to fame? Didn’t your former employer ride that pony to his billions? Haven’t you profited from the vile fruits of his labors? Perhaps you want more. Perhaps this is what you want. Perhaps you won’t pay us because you want the videos released. And when they hit every news channel in the world, perhaps you will even thank us.”
“Don’t listen,” Aria hisses. And for the second time in my life, I know that if push comes to shove, I really do have it in me to kill.
“But the little girl?” Now, the voice is almost pleasant. Or as pleasant as the computer-altered voice of a totally sick fuck can be. “If those images and videos come out, dear little Anne will spend her life not as Damien Stark’s spoiled brat, but as the poor, pitiful little girl who was kidnapped and tormented. A little girl who will come to understand that someone is still out there who knows what happened to her. Someone who, one day, might take her again. And that next time she won’t be drugged. Won’t simply sit in the background rocking herself in a haze of dreams. She will be you. Touched. Violat?—”
“ No!” I actually scream the word, as if whoever sent this recorded message can hear me.
“We won’t let that happen,” Aria says, our hands locked tight together.
“Today, you preened,” the voice continues. “You strutted and crowed, thinking you had created something wonderful. When you look back, remember that it was you who gave us the way to ensure your compliance. Defy us, and we will become the Brotherhood personified. We will release your shame to the world.
As I tighten my grip on Aria’s hand, the three-million-dollar figure disappears, replaced by a date and a time. Noon, Pacific Time . Three days from tomorrow. “Keep track of our appointment card. You may scan any time after six a.m. Pacific time for instructions as to where to transfer the funds. Once you scan, you will have fifteen minutes to comply. The latest you may scan is noon.
“Three million and we disappear forever. Less, and you will find the penalty to be very stiff indeed. And in case you need further incentive, from now until the money we are due reaches our account, you may amuse yourself by scanning the code to reveal your Greatest Hits—a curated collection of all the videos and images that will be released if our demands are not met.”
And then it’s gone. That tinny voice. But the low static that had buzzed behind it continues, edging through the silence that seems to fill the house. I want to hurl my phone across the room and make that horrible buzzing stop, but I know I can’t. I can’t close that page until I’m sure the message is over.
Then the static snaps off, and that fucking happy face appears on the black screen above three words written in lovely calligraphy: Enjoy your evening!
Finally, the screen goes blank, and I’m left wondering how the hell I’m going to get my hands on three million dollars.
Then I lurch forward and vomit all over my and Aria’s shoes.