Page 180 of Darling Wildfire
It wasn’t possible.
I saw her get shot.
This just couldn’t be real. But even as I thought it, I knew in my gut it was my Emersyn—theLittle Red Riding Hooddrawing solidified it. She’d been alive that night in the woods.
And I left her.
I didn’t even feel the drops as it started to rain. From my position sitting on the steps, I was quickly soaked. I’m not sure how long I was outside before Nyx came out and put a hand on my shoulder startling me.
“Come on, Griffin is taking us to his safe house. We can talk about what to do next. This place creeps me out.”
I nodded and climbed to my feet, wiping rain off my face. I didn’t go back into the house though. I couldn’t face the darkness there and instead made my way around the side. Knight was already loaded up in the SUV and Gabriel was in his vehicle with the rest of his team. The drive over was silent and heavy. The men knew better than to say anything.
When we got to the house, I changed into dry clothes before finding everyone sitting on bar stools in the kitchen while Gabriel threw some food together and handed out beers. I sat down and drank half of the bottle he handed me in one go. He looked at me with a ghost of a smile on his lips before he reached into a different cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass.
He slid both in front of me without a word.
The guys were talking amongst each other as I threw back two shots back to back. There was too much noise going on in my head. How was she still alive? What happened after I’d run?
I left her.
“How do you find out about these boarding houses?” Atlas asked.
Gabriel handed sandwiches out to everyone before leaning back againstthe kitchen counter and taking a sip of his own beer.
“I have informants, sometimes I’ll interview girls if they escape or we rescue them. Sometimes I go undercover if it’s a big ring.”
“How did you even find her name?” Nyx asked.
“We go through every grooming house with a fine-tooth comb. You never know what evidence the traffickers will leave behind or what clues the girls will leave. Often it’s their journals, or drawings or like in this instance a name on a wall—that leads us to rescuing them. My men will continue to go through that house board by board until we’re done then we’ll burn it to the ground.”
He took another sip of his beer. “You have to remember, sometimes these girls just up and disappear from their families, so any evidence we find, we try to get the information out to the families if possible so they can either have hope…or closure.”
I took another shot.
“Where do the women go after the boarding houses?” Nyx asked.
“The auctions usually, or a middleman. Some auctions are for rich individuals but there are also ones that center around—” he paused as though trying to think of the correct words. “—destination experiences I guess you could call them. There are a few islands and private resorts that supply women to their patrons for a price. They usually cater to certain kinks, illegal ones mostly.”
“How do I find Emersyn?” I asked.
I poured another shot.
“The boarding houses usually distribute to the same places. The difficult part will be if she went straight to auction because the records after the auction house are vague at best.”
Gabriel finished his beer and set the bottle down.
“I have to warn you,” he said. “I spoke to one of the girls from this boarding house and she said Emersyn aged out shortly after she got there. I couldn’t get an accurate timeline—could be months, could be years, time turns into your enemy when you’re trafficked—if I had to guess though I’d say over a year ago. There’s something else you should know—the girl mentioned Emersyn had a scar running down the side of her face. This was why she remembered her and also why Emersyn aged out because I guess none of the usual buyers wanted to buy her.”
The silence was so heavy I could feel myself choking on it. I must have paled significantly because Gabriel’s usually passive face grew concerned. I shoved off the bar stool and threw back another shot.
“North—” Nyx said, but I held up a hand.
Yeah, she’d have a scar—
I fucking put it there.
It was my fault. All of it.
