Page 37 of Dark OZ

“The thing you don’t get is that you’re looking at this logically, and Crowe was a dumb teenager trying to prove himself. That made him reckless and illogical by definition.”

“Reckless can be fun.”

“Not when it means you steal the wrong person’s sports car and then drive it into an emerald mica quarry.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” I chuckled at the memory. Crowe really is a dumbass sometimes. “When I didn’t give him the key, he tried to do a quick snatch and grab. Nick dragged me into the back of the closet and hooked my vest on the coat rack while Crowe pulled the key from the box. Of course, he grabbed the wrong one. So it didn’t go to the shiny car that was conveniently parked at the end.”

“What car did it go to?” She seemed genuinely hooked on the story now. Dorothy hadn’t even reacted when I started on the third gauze patch.

“Have you heard of Mariah Mombi?”

Dorothy sucked in a surprised breath. So she had heard of the former head—or rather headless—leader of the Northern Quadrant. Gigi and her crew got the pleasure of removing it for her.

“I know Mombi,” Dorothy said somberly. “She would visit The Farm every year to hand select some of the girls.”

Blood rushed in my ears

Hand-select some of the girls.

I tried not to picture my sweet sisters being carted away by Mariah. Fucking. Mombi.

Mombi was the worst of all the people who had seized control in Oz when the Premiership fell. She was notorious for turning those who displeased her into actual ornaments adorning her mansion. That woman had literal skeletons in her closet. Mombi was worse than Eastin and Westin combined. She would relish breaking and destroying everything beautiful that lived in the hearts of the young.

I swallowed hard. I shouldn’t ask. I should—not—ask…but I couldn’t stop the words from coming. “What kinds of girls?”

“Older ones, mostly. Women in their early twenties. It was always the pretty ones. She’d pick one or two every time. I don’t know why or what she did with them.”

I clutched the cloth too tightly, making water stream down her tortured back. The palm resting on Dorothy’s shoulder tightened. She didn’t seem to notice. I reeled back in my emotions before they started spilling out of control.

Twenties would have been too old. Still, a part of me wanted to shake Dorothy senseless, and force the answers to rattle from her, just like I had been wanting to do every second since she’d mentioned Emily Rosen’s name. Instead, I resumed placing salve over the wounds and pretended that a lifetime’s worth of guilt wasn’t crushing me.

“There was a boy she would drag behind her on a leash. Mombi called him Tip, but I don’t think that was his real name. I only talked to him once about three years ago. He begged me to help free him. It was Tip who made me realize that I was the only one with the power to do anything about the women being trafficked through The Farm. He was who taught me to push past my fear. Even if it did end up with me sitting right beside the very girls I was trying to save.”

“Wait, save? You were going to take down The Farm?” Disbelief tainted my voice, causing that sour feeling to flip in my stomach once more.

“Of course.” She nodded. “I never got to tell him my plan because the next time Mombi visited, she came storming through the gates screaming that Em ‘sold her a bad slave.’ Tip had escaped, and Mombi blamed Em for it. Then Mombi demandedmein repayment.”

“But you’re her niece.”

Dorothy snorted a laugh, “That didn’t mean anything to Em. I was nothing but a commodity to her. She threatened to auction me off nearly every day of my life.” My hand stilled against her back. “Mombi even went as far as dragging me to her car by my hair. It made Em furious. The two of them fought in the middle of the courtyard. Em pulled a gun on Mombi, declaring that I wasn’t available. While she held Mombi at gunpoint, Henry got me out of the car. Back then, I was stupid enough to think she was trying to save me. Now, I realize it was because I was already promised to Eastin.” Dorothy’s face fell into her hands. “I was so naive. There was so much I didn’t know. Just like I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this.” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “It’s not like you care. Let’s just finish these bandages. Then you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

I flinched at my own words thrown back at me. Everything was all twisted up. I wasn’t sure what to do. Part of me wanted to strangle her for having had anything to do with The Farm to begin with. Another part of me wanted to kiss away the tears I could see forming in the corners of her eyes. I’d never felt so conflicted. Caught in the middle of two warring emotions, I stood rooted to the spot, unmoving like my limbs had been turned to stone—just like the concrete-dipped souls that decorated Mombi’s garden.

Dorothy turned away from me with a long exhale. It was enough to break the spell I was under. It felt like time had stopped, sucking me under and spitting me back out like nothing had happened.

“That was the last I saw of Mombi, and I was glad for it. How did Crowe manage to survive stealing her car?”

I blinked, my eyes focusing on what was left of Dorothy’s back. The gauze was completely removed now. I ran a finger over the ragged cuts. The small bits of information she’d told me settled together into startling clarity. Dorothy hadn’t been double-crossed by Emily Rosen. She’d been victimized by her. Suddenly, Crowe’s compassion made so much sense. I prided myself on being able to read people, but I’d gotten Dorothy completely wrong from the beginning. I knew why. I wanted her to be the enemy. I didn’t want to hear that she was a victim in all of this. I didn’t want to know that she needed retribution as much as I wanted revenge.

“What will you ask for when we meet the Wizard?” I said, my voice still choked off from the emotions rioting in my chest.

“I thought it didn’t matter. I thought that I belonged to you now, along with the emerald.”

“You do. It does.” I rested my hands along her hips, their heavy weight pressing into her soft flesh. “Answer the question. What do you want, Dorothy?”

“A new life outside of Oz.” She paused, then twisted to face me. “Actually, more than anything, what I really want is Em gone. I want her to answer for killing my parents, stealing my inheritance, and making my entire life hell. I want her to pay for selling me. I want her to suffer as I have suffered. I want her to feel like she is nothing. When I throw what’s left of her away, I want her to know it’s because she is nothing more than trash.”

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