Page 37 of The Carver

“She just looks young?—”

“I know she’s my age because I went to school with her,” I said. “I remember the day she went missing.”

Godric shook his head. “I told you.”

My father gave him a vicious stare like he might slap him on the spot. It lingered for a long time before Godric finally looked away. My father looked at me again. “Bastien, it is what it is. Forget about it.”

“Forget about it?” Her parents were looking for her, and I knew where she was. Those other girls probably had familiestoo, families that would never know what happened to their daughters or their sisters. “Why don’t we hire someone to do this?—”

“Because you can’t hire someone to keep their mouth shut,” he snapped. “This is the only way.”

“So, they’re just stuck here until they die?” I asked in disbelief. “Working for the rest of their lives and sleeping in a warehouse like it’s a chicken coop?”

Godric gave a shake of his head but bit back the words he’d already spoken.

My father raised his hand in frustration. “Forget about the girls, alright?” He slid the papers toward me. “You need to learn how to run the business, who our distributors are, how to maintain order in a lawless profession. This is the business that puts food on the table for all four of us.” He flipped to the page that showed the monthly revenue after costs. It was a number bigger than any I’d ever seen. “The girls don’t matter.” He pressed his finger into the number. “This is what matters. And this is what you and your brother will split when I’m gone.”

In a different circumstance, I would have been impressed by that number like anyone else. But now it meant nothing to me, not when it was earned off the backs of underage girls who were too scared to fight or run. “I don’t want it.” I directed my gaze away from the page and looked at my father. “I want nothing to do with this.”

My father slowly sat back in his chair and regarded me like a stranger rather than his son. “What did you just say?”

“I don’t want it,” I repeated. “Godric can have it.”

Godric stared at me before he shifted his look to his father.

“I want you both to run it?—”

“I don’t want it.”

He slammed his hand on the table and made it bounce off the floor. “Interrupt me again, boy. See what the fuck happens.”

I gave a small jerk at his outburst. The room went quiet, far quieter than it’d been just a second ago, even though there was no one in there but us. My eyes remained on his face, and while I was scared of my father, I was scared of what was in that other warehouse more.

“They’re nobodies, Bastien. Inconsequential. Insignificant. Meaningless.”

I wished I could remember her name, but it continued to elude me. We’d never spoken to each other. I wasn’t sure if we’d even had a class together. But I somehow recognized her face enough to notice it in a crowded room. “She’s not a nobody. I went to school with her. I remember the day she went missing because the entire school had an assembly, and her parents came to talk to us.”

My father gave a sigh of irritation and then looked at my brother. “You remember her?”

He shook his head. “I was in lycée at the time.”

My father looked at me again. “Are you sure it’s her?”

“Yes,” I said. “She recognized me. I could tell.”

My father returned the papers to the folder before he dragged his hand across his jawline. “Now I understand why you’ve been sodistracted.” He got to his feet. “Let’s fix that. Come on.” He left the warehouse and stepped into the night.

I was quick behind him, hoping that my father would release her so she could go home. She would keep all this a secret in exchange for her freedom. I knew she would. That was a deal I would take in a heartbeat.

We returned to the warehouse with the girls, and my father gestured to his men with the rifles. “Grab her and bring her outside.” He pointed out my old classmate then headed back to the door. “Come on, boys.”

Godric stayed and exchanged a look with me, and it was the first time he didn’t look angry. He was full of resignation, suddenly looking exhausted. Then he gave a slight shake of his head, so slight it was almost unnoticeable. “I fucking told you.”

“Bastien.”

I followed my father outside. Outdoor lights were flicked on, so the cold ground was visible, covered in patches of white snow. The second I took a breath, ice crystals were in my lungs.

Behind me, the guys escorted the girl outside where we stood. She didn’t fight their hold, but they continued to grab her like she was a flight risk. They forced her toward us then pushed on her shoulders so she dropped to her knees, the snow soaking into her jeans.

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