Page 14 of Dark & Deceitful

Out of the communal space, we enter a hallway lined with former offices—all of them have wooden doors, brass knobs, and frosted windows. Crisp white numbers adorn their fronts. Number two houses the laundry. Three is a storage room. Four and five spans two large offices converted into a bathroom. Multiple white subway-tiled shower stalls flank one side with curtains for privacy. In the center, there are sinks with mirrors mounted above them on the brick wall that separates the shower area from the row of toilet stalls. Along the back wall are hooks and a row of short lockers for the sisters to store their stuff. It has your standard college dorm vibe, but that’s what they sign up for. Nothing about this is forced. It’s an option they're given from where they once came. Yes, I know that’s vague. I don’t know their backstories, only that in order to be here, you’ve had to have gone through some shit. Ugly shit. Then have gone through extensive therapy and rehabilitation to be welcomed back into the real world.

Cell was sold as a child to some rich fuck and found as a teenager when she escaped. By some miracle, she ran into the right bikers outside a truck stop one night. She’s open about her lived experiences, as it helps many of the new sisters feel welcome and at ease. The newbies have probably been hanging with her since they arrived. She’s that fun, over-the-top kid sister everyone doesn’t want but needs in their life.

Once we’ve hit all the common areas, I show the ladies to their new bedrooms. I keep each room stocked and ready for any of Sunshine’s unexpected visits. He’s not one to give me a heads-up, as he rarely knows about the pickups until hours before I do. That doesn’t leave much time to communicate in the middle of the night, which is when they always arrive, under the guise of dark, just in case any of the fuckers who try to keep tabs on the Sacred Sinners follow.

Opening the side-by-side doors, I sweep my hand for the women to enter whichever room they prefer. They’re clones of each other, much like a hotel room—full-sized bed, white sheets, fluffy white duvet, brand-new pillows, a dresser with a small television on top, a short rod mounted to the wall with hangers, a mini-fridge, and a small cupboard area with a sink, and just enough counter space for a microwave. The walls are white, and the floor is hardwood with a small area rug for warmth.

“Welcome to your new home,” I announce. “Whenever you’re ready, I’d like us to talk in the living room.”

With that, I give them space to settle in as I happy dance all the way to the common room and dramatically fall onto the couch, ousting a ridiculously loud squeal.

I have new sisters.

New women to bring into the fold.

I’m so damn excited!

Sunshine is getting all the hugs for this—all the thank yous and rocks for his pockets.

Leaving her little corner, Cell drops on the couch across from me, as does Dina. Sam disappears, which is what Sam does best. If I didn’t know the woman, I wouldn’t know she lived here. She’s a ghost most of the time. It’s a miracle she was eating at the table when I arrived.

Righting myself on the sofa, I fold my hands into my lap, all prim and proper and shit. “I love it when we get new sisters.”

“I know! This is fun. I wonder what they’ll think of the rest of us. I hope they fit in. I’m sure they will. Bonez wouldn’tsend them here without knowing they’d work. He’s smart,” Cell yammers faster than a subway train.

“That’s true, and with Rosie now vetting everyone first, I’m sure they’ll work out for the best.” I sit back on the couch. It’s so deep my feet come off the floor.

“Bongo sent so many new opportunities for us to work our magic this week.” Cell rubs her hands together like a bad guy in a movie.

“I don’t know if they're ready for fieldwork yet. They just got here.”

“But you said Rosie already met them,” she counters.

This is true. Rosie is our unofficial badass sister from the south. Having worked in the thick of things with the sex trafficking world for years, she gets the final say in who joins us. For the longest time, the Sacred Sinners sent us too many women. One out of five would stick around long enough to get into the field. Most were sent back into the real world. You may think you want to work intel to make a difference, but it can be a dark and scary place. If you were one of those taken for a long time, beaten, raped, or tortured, you might not want to be anywhere near that world, no matter the cost or the reward, and there’s no shame in that. This lifestyle isn’t for everyone.

“Did they give you their names?” I ask Cell.

Her mop of blonde curls shakes. “I didn’t ask. Sunshine’s buzzer thingy rang early this morning. I let them in, and they slept on the couches most of the morning. I just got them up and talking right before you got here.”

“It doesn’t matter anyhow,” Dina interjects, tucking herself into the corner of the couch as she picks her nails with the tip of a pocketknife. “We get to choose our names. Cell isn’t your real name, just as Dina isn’t mine.”

“True. True.” Cell nods along enthusiastically. “I was kept in a cell. It seemed fitting to have a name that reminded me of that.”

“You’re a morbid bitch.” Dina snickers, and I grin at the fact that, yes, Cell is indeed a morbid bitch to the core. I don’t think anyone could do the job she does if they weren’t.

Owning who she is, Cell raises the roof old-school style as her shoulders swivel in an awkward wannabe dance. “That I am, sister. That. I. Am,” she sings.

Before long, we are joined by the two newbies. They sit beside each other on the last couch. The brunette stares at her fingers as the blonde forces a tight smile.

“How’d you like your rooms?” I ask, hoping to make this transition as easy as possible. You don’t ask too many questions with new sisters. You keep it light. You give them all the information they need to settle in and cross your fingers that they trust you enough to open up in the coming weeks. Most of them find a sister or two to bond with. From the looks of things, these two will be a unit, much like Till and me.

“The room’s nice,” the blonde answers as the brunette remains impassive.

“Good. Good. I assume you met with Rosie before coming here?”

“Yes.” The blonde presses her lips together and nods. “She briefed us about this place and taught us some self-defense.”

“How long were you there?” Cell asks, ever the nosy nelly.

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