Page 60 of The Club

It’s hard, so damn hard, to relent. Dante’s better at this than I am. He’s more controlled. I want to tear this shithead apart. I want to grab his lower jaw and rip until it unhinges. I want to cut and claw until he doesn’t even look human anymore—because he’s not.

But I have questions. So I make myself ease up. When Anton quiets, trembling, I settle back again.

“Where do you get them?” I ask.

“Getwhat? I don’t know what you’re—”

“The kids.”

Anton freezes so abruptly that I instantly know I’m on the right track.

I say, “I can’t imagine that you hunt them down yourself. You’re too busy for that, and it seems like a lot of work for someone used to have others do all the heavy lifting. So. Who do you buy them from?”

My heart is racing. I’m daring to hope. I didn’t say it to Noah. He didn’t say it to me. But it’s the reason he was willing to give me the green light in spite of the risk.

Because, for the past two months, ever since we learned that the Collector is still working in New York, selling mostly to mafia, I’ve barely held it together.

I need this lead.

So I lay it out. “You bought from the Collector.”

Anton’s sound of surprise is all the answer I need. My leather gloves creak as my fists tighten. I want to hurt him this instant. But I have questions. I need answers more than I need to punish him. That can wait.

I ask, “How do you get a hold of him?”

In the faint ambient light, I watch Anton’s mind race. He licks his lips. “I can help you,” he tries. “If you want a boy—”

I don’t recall moving, but I’m in his face, yanking on the rope, clamping a hand over his mouth. It takes everything I have to make myself ease up.

“How do you contact him?” I manage to choke out as I shift my hand away from his mouth.

“You-you don’t. Not directly. You go to Little Tony’s Pizzeria in Hell’s Kitchen. Ask for the kid’s menu—”

The way I’m shaking is a warning, but I can’t do anything about it. I try to just keep listening.

Anton goes on hurriedly, “They’ll say they don’t have one but they’re thinking of starting one. They’ll tell you to leave your number for a discount code in case they start one.”

“He’s not there? The Collector?”

“No. Never. At least, I don’t think so.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve never seen him. It’s all done indirectly. I don’t know what he looks like.”

I don’t either, in spite of all the time I spent with him. I just can’t fucking see his face. I see flashes on moments, glimpses of his body. I can hear his voice.

Such a good boy.

Such a beautiful boy.

“He can find whatever you want—”

Anton’s words cut off in a gurgle of blood as I ram my knife into his throat.

Goddamn it. I didn’t mean to do that. I had more questions. Now I have to work fast if I want him to feel anything else before he dies.

I use the rope to pull his balls up and start sawing. Blood spills over my gloved hands. He gurgles and jerks. He stills all too soon.

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