Chaotic (L.O.R.D.S. #7) — Chapter no 10

TEN

EV ERETT

guess you could say that I live two lives. The one the LordsI want me to have and one that they would kill me for.

It’s no se cret that the Lords will fuck over whoever they can. They purposely seek out those who betray their oath. They love to make

examples of them.

Punishment is key.

It’s another night, and I find myself walking up to the cemetery be‐ hind the cathedral. I’m here every night. I came to terms with my life years ago.

You’re probably wondering why I’d choose this life over death. I asked myself that same question for a very long time.

I used to pray to any god that would lis ten to kill me. I begged my body to give up and just let go. Certain it’d be better than this hell.

Then one day, I had the opportu nity to end it myself.

Eighteen years old I’m officially eighteen. An adult. So they say. It doesn’t change who

I am or where I’ve been.

Hell.

Burning in fuck ing hell.

My father woke me up in the middle of the night, dragged me out of my bed, and threw me into the passenger seat of a car. After he slammed the door shut, he stood out side of it, talking to a man I’d never seen be fore.

Now, he turns and goes inside while the guy gets in the driver’s seat.

“Seat belt,” he demands, pulling out of the gates.

p gg “Where…where are we going?” I ask, rubbing my sweaty hands down my thighs.

The guy re mains silent, which only raises my concern. My father never lets me leave home. He keeps me secluded and iso lated.

My chest hurts from how vio lently my heart is beating. I’m shaking, my nose running, and my heart is bro ken. I never thought it would get this bad. A part of me knew, but I never wanted to believe it.

Why me? Why now?

No one can help me. I’m on my own.

My father expects me to just take it. Lie down and accept whatever he wants from me.

Well, lie down isn’t the right word. A woman tied down can’t run. A woman gagged can’t scream for help.

The Lords want us helpless, not compliant. No. The fuck ing bas‐ tards get off on the fight. They feel the most power ful when they hold you down.

“Where are we going?” I manage to control my voice better this time.

The man who’s driving begins to whis tle.

Fresh tears run down my face, and my stomach knots, think ing about what they did to me. What they’re going to do to me. What else is there? They’ve taken everything I have. My mind, my body, my will. There’s noth ing left for me to give.

I feel sick and need to vomit again. It’s on my shirt and my jeans. I

couldn’t swallow it anymore.

I can’t do this. I won’t do this.

The man’s phone begins to ring, and he picks it up, placing it to his ear. “Yes, sir,” he says. “I understand.” He goes back to his fuck ing whistling.

I know what I have to do. I have no other option. My father has a tracker on me just in case some thing like this happens. He was afraid I’d run away, but I had nowhere to go.

So why let me leave now? I don’t even know how to drive a car to run away. I’m not allowed to have a life. No friends or family other than him. I never got to go to school. Forget college. He controls when and what I eat. When I sleep. He rules everything.

py g My life is a prison sentence, and he’s the warden.

I see the curve coming up ahead as the head lights shine on the road sign signaling to slow down. I take a quick look at the guy who stares straight ahead.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to the one I can’t save. We’re both doomed. A fate that will only destroy us in the end. “I can’t…” My voice trails off as my throat tightens.

“Who the fuck are you talking to? Your father said you were crazy.”

He’s finally speaking to me, but I ignore him.

I won’t give my father what he wants. I refuse to allow him to win.

Not this time. Not like this.

The turn approaches, and I fist my hands on my lap. This is it. It’s my only chance. “Now or never,” I whis per.

“What are you—”

I reach over, grab the wheel, and jerk on it, making sure we don’t make the curve.

Life is shit, and nothing ever turns out how you plan. My life was al‐ ready worthless, but my father proved to me that it could only get worse from there. I expected to die that night. In stead, it became my first attempt at suicide.

I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies. I’ve heard grown men plead for their lives, know ing it wouldn’t do them any good.

I’ve always thought about death.

How will I die? It’s going to happen eventu ally. No one lives forever.

It’s the one thing that money can’t buy you. Maybe a little more time, but death is inevitable. It comes to collect for all the sins you’ve committed. And I’m not innocent. So why didn’t it take me then? What did I ever do to deserve to survive that night? At least the bastard driv ing died. And it felt good to know that I rid the world of one more Lord.

Of course, my father found me. When I woke up, I was in a hos pi‐ tal bed, and I re member feeling numb. The one face I never wanted to see again was in mine, yelling at me. He knew I’d done it on pur‐ pose, and he used that against me. Told me how pathetic I was.

How he’d make sure that I’d live forever. I wanted to laugh because

that’s not possi ble. No one is invincible. Even the ones with the founders’ en hancement still die.

“You’re useless, Eve.” He gripped my face, digging his fin gers into my bruised cheeks.“You’re a danger to your self, Eve.” I wanted to fight him, but my arms were tied to the hos pital bed.“I have to pro‐ tect you from your self.” I wanted to laugh. He had never pro tected me before, but all of a sudden, I meant something to him.

Things got worse before they got better. It’s taken me a long time to heal and accept who I was. Thankfully, the past few years have actu ally been quiet. Until now. The Lords have put Kashton back in my life. They did it on purpose. Now I just need to know why.

What have I done? What did I do wrong? Are they mad at me? I’ve kept up my end of the deal.

I stay low and keep to myself. I still have no friends. Literally.

It doesn’t bother me. I’ve always been a loner. Not like I had a choice in how I lived my life.

But just because I’ve seen death all of my life doesn’t mean that when someone innocent dies, it doesn’t affect me. As coldhearted as I tell myself I am, I know that I’m not.

“When did you notice the body?” the man asks me as he writes in his notebook.

I cross my arms over my chest to pro tect myself from the night breeze. “However long it took you to get here.”

The homicide detective nods. “We’ll have to have you come to the station. So we can get a statement.”

“You mean interro gate me,” I correct him, and he finally glances up from his notebook. “You’re getting mystatement now.”

“It’s standard pro cedure, miss.”

I shrug it off. They can run my fingerprints and swab the inside of my cheek. They can take a fuck ing blood sam ple. It won’t matter. I don’t exist. They won’t find anything.

He continues to ask me ques tions and writes things down as I watch the crime scene inves tigators look over the woman’s body that was dumped in the middle of the cemetery behind the cathedral.

They’re gagging at the smell and how mutilated she is.

From what I can tell, she looks young. I could be wrong. I’ve seen enough bodies to know that she’s been dead for a while now. Her body decomposed. Probably left out for days in the sun at another location be fore she was dumped here.

It’s a threat. Even I can see that. No one is ever here. Someone wanted me to find her, but the question is, what did they want me to do with her? I know it wasn’t to call the cops. If this is a test, I’ve al‐ ready failed.

Did they want me to bury her? Set her on fire? She deserved more than that. Her story isn’t going to end like that. She went through hell while she was alive and deserves some peace.

“Okay. Officer Anders will es cort you to his car and take you to the station.”

The young officer walks over to join us, and I’m guessing he’s An‐ ders. His dark eyes run over my skinny jeans, high heels, and T-shirt in a way that makes me want to roll mine. Lord or not, they’re all

the fucking same.

“Am I under arrest?” I arch a brow.

The young officer places his hands on his duty belt and smirks. My eyes drop to his hand cuffs, and I bet the bastard will try to place me in them. They think I’m just some dumb bleached blonde who has to obey their every word.

“Not at the moment, miss,” the homicide detective answers before turn ing to speak to the young officer in a hushed voice.

I re move my cell from my back pocket. I pull up the number of the only person I know can help me. “Hello?” he answers, yawning.

“Eve?”

I woke him. “I’m headed to the station.”

“Huh?” He clears his throat, and I imagine him sitting up and turn‐ ing on his bed side lamp. “Train station? Don’t be silly. Take the jet.

I’ll call and have it ready for you. Where would you like to go?”

“Po lice station,” I correct him. “I’m going to be questioned re gard‐ ing a dead body I found.”

“Don’t say a word. I’m on my way.” He hangs up, and I pocket my cell to see both men staring at me.

I’m not a suspect here, so I’m free to call whoever the fuck I want.

“My attorney will meet us there.”

The younger one huffs, irritated because he can’t take advantage of the situ ation, and the older one nods. “Good. Good.”

Not re ally. My attorney will eat him alive. He’s a Lord, and they’re

nobodies.

KASHTON I haven’t spoken much to the guys other than when I re turned and was in the office. I’m still keeping my distance from them. Nothing got solved, and they obviously don’t see an issue with what went down.Everything is fine with them now, Saint had told me.

Another bag of IV flu ids later, and I’m back to myself. More deter‐ mined than ever to get the girl.

I decided to go out again tonight. I’m avoiding Carnage, and I don’t think the guys even notice. Not like they should. They’ve got lives beyond that place now. Even if they are still living there.

I’m walk ing through Blackout when I spot Haidyn and Charlotte head ing toward me as the crowd parts for them. It’s weird to see them together, him hold ing her hand, them both wearing wedding rings. Not because I never thought he’d settle down, but because I just never saw it happening with her. Especially after I found out who she re ally was. I thought it had to be some kind of trick. A fucked-up joke.

Surely, he would have told me that he had fallen in love. That he’d found the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The one

he was willing to give up his life for.

I was in denial.

Haidyn made Charlotte that video of him sitting in her living room, and I watched her lis ten to him tell her that he loved her while also explaining that he had to leave her. She broke down. Right there in front of our eyes. And I knew she loved him too.

I was being a selfish bitch. We have been through so much shit to‐ gether—initiations and training. It was such a dark time in our lives —we only had each other for so long. I hated having to miss seeing him be happy. And that I hadn’t gotten to see him fall in love.

I was going to bring my brother back, and I was going to make sure that the love of his life was alive and well. No matter how mad I was that he didn’t include me in such an important part of his life.

He made me her guardian, and I had to swallow my pride no matter how hard it was. He gave me a job, and I wouldn’t let him down like everyone else in our lives has.

It’s different with Saint. We al ways knew he’d marry Ashtyn. And I knew deep down he’d bring her back to Carnage one day. It didn’t matter whether it was four years or twenty, he was going to find his Lady.

“Hi, Kash ton.” Charlotte speaks over the music, getting my atten‐ tion, with a smile on her face. She’s got this sweet and innocent look to her. It’s cute. Especially knowing what kind of man Haidyn is. He’s given so much up for everyone else. I’m glad he finally foundthe one.

“Hey.” I nod to her and then look at Haidyn. “What are you guys doing here?”

I’m surprised he lets her set foot inside Blackout, knowing she’s pregnant. I mean, he can pro tect her, but still, anything could hap‐ pen. This place went up in flames not long ago. Though I guess at some point, you have to understand that you can’t control every‐ thing.

He shoves his left hand into the pocket of his jeans. “What do you mean? Didn’t you read the text?”

“Text?” I question. I’m just here to have a drink.

“Tyson in cluded you in the group chat.”

Digging into my pocket, I pull out my cell and see that I’ve got sev‐ eral mes sages. I didn’t hear it go off over the music. Scrolling through the chat, I see a re sponse in the group that makes me sigh.

This will be fun.

“I’m going to es cort Charlotte upstairs. The girls are up in the apartment,” Haidyn tells me, and I nod to him.

I make my way to Tyson’s office and pile inside. Ryat stands over by Ty’s desk, arms crossed over his chest. Saint is al ready here, slouch ing in a chair.

Sin sits on the couch. He doesn’t even glance my way, and I hate how much I care. He’s getting ready to be a dad. Devin and Gavin are going to deliver the babies any day now, and I hate that I won’t get to be there for him. That is another happy mo ment for a friend that I’d be honored to be a part of. But of course, I fucked it up and will have to miss it.

A man I’ve never seen before sits next to Sin. Makes me wonder what the fuck is going on and why we’re all here.

The door opens behind me, and I step to the side as four men en‐ ter—Ty’s minions. They help him run this place and bury his bodies.

“What’s up, boss?” Alex asks.

Tyson stands from his desk, button ing his suit jacket, and gestures to the couch on the opposite side of the room. “Have a seat, boys.

We’re waiting on one more.”

While everyone gets comfortable, I choose to stand by the door, lean ing up against the wall as it opens.

When Haidyn enters, Tyson claps his hands. “Okay. This is homicide detective Haynes.” He points to the man sitting next to Sin, and ev‐ eryone looks at Tyson, wonder ing what the fuck is going on. The Lords don’t deal with law enforcement. Of any kind. “You’re up.” Ty nods to him.

The detective gets to his feet and opens up a backpack. He then starts to pass out manila envelopes to each of us. I al ready know what it’s going to be. I feel like I’m having déjà vu. It’s like the night on the jet with Adam, Bill, and the detective.

Reach ing in, I pull out the stack of papers. The one on top is a pro‐ file picture of a naked woman, hang ing upside down. The barbed wire wrapped around her ankles is what keeps her hang ing from the tree limb. Her skin has ripped open from her struggle and the weight of her body. Her arms are secured behind her back with the wire as well. Blood runs down her bruised skin into a puddle on the ground.

Her once short golden hair now looks straw berry blond. She’s cov‐ ered in bruises, and short cuts run horizontally across both thighs.

“Fuck,” Alex hisses. “How many were found this time?”

“Seven,” the detective answers. “One re covered each day of the week.”

“Lords re lated?” Sin is the one who asks, putting his attention on the second photo, this one of another woman.

The man sighs. “Not that we’ve found, but the inves tigation just started.” Haynes looks at Ty. “Tyson and I have an…understanding. I bring him information about cases like these.”

“I’m con fused about what you want us to do.” Colton is the one who speaks, running his hand down his face, looking stressed. “Are we supposed to be stepping in? Working with the police?”

“No.” Tyson shakes his head. “We thought this ended with Luke, but it didn’t. Then, when Haidyn mar ried Charlotte, Dollhouse was brought to our attention.”

I feel Haidyn’s body stiffen next to mine at the mention of his wife.

He drops his enve lope onto the coffee ta ble, not even bother ing to look through the rest of it. He’s seen enough.

“Everyone that we know of, or who we thought was involved, is now at Carnage, and these seven girls have been raped, tortured, and mutilated…” Ty goes on, shaking his head. “It can’t be a coinci‐ dence. Someone is still running the show.”

“LeAnne?” Ryat offers, slamming his enve lope onto Tyson’s desk as well. “It makes sense. The bitch was able to go under the radar for a long time before Matt thought he killed her. Now she’s supposedly moving here. She still has no clue that we’re aware she and Isabella are twins, but surely she knows her sister is no longer run ning Doll‐ house.”

“Has Blakely spoken to her lately?” Finn asks Ryat.

“Fuck no,” he barks. “And she won’t be. I’ve got that bitch blocked everywhere I can. And if she shows up at our house again, I’ll blow her fucking head off her shoulders.”

The detective adjusts himself in his seat at Ryat’s confes sion, and I wonder just how much Tyson has told him about us. I mean, the guy has to feel threatened just being in the room with this many Lords.

“What if this happened before we found Dollhouse, and this is them getting rid of what they had?” Haidyn suggests.

“Au topsy re sults aren’t back yet, but es timated times of death puts them dead long before they were found,” the detective adds.

Colton shakes his head and looks at Haidyn. “We were at Dollhouse with the oth ers to save you, and you were the only person on the property other than Hudson and Isabella. We checked every inch of that place. So if they were at Dollhouse, then some one gave them a heads-up and moved them before we arrived.”

“Bill,” Sin says. “When Saint asked him how he could be so sure that Haidyn was at Dollhouse, he said he had some one on the in‐ side. But there was no one else there to ‘help’ us.” He sits back and crosses his tatted arms over his chest. “I thought it was too easy how we were able to get Haidyn out of there. But I figured that for once, luck was on our side. Maybe Bill gave them a heads-up that we were coming and gave whoever else was there plenty of time to run so we couldn’t question them. They could have held these women somewhere else and then killed them.”

“Thought you trusted Bill?” Haidyn asks Sin, and I feel like I’ve missed out on a conver sa tion they’ve had.

“Hon es tly…” Sin sighs, “I don’t think I trust anyone anymore.”

Me. He means he no longer trusts me. I have the urge to explain myself, but now is not the time.

“What is hap pening with Dollhouse?” Tyson asks Haidyn.

“Nothing. Charlotte doesn’t want anything to do with that place.

And as far as I know, since Isabella was a Lady—Bill’s wife—every‐ thing was left to him.”

“What would Bill want with it?” Ty growls.

“I haven’t spoken to Bill, and I know Charlotte hasn’t.” Haidyn shrugs. “So your guess is as good as mine.”

When some one is brought into Carnage, they’re dead to the world.

On paper, they’ve been given a death certificate with a date and cause of death. Isabella no longer exists, which means whatever she has is given to her spouse unless specified.

“Maybe it was left to LeAnne,” Ryat offers.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Colton speaks up. “Let’s say LeAnne is aware we know Dollhouse exists. She had to know that Haidyn was there.

And that Bill knows about it as well. If he is on our side, no one would be operating out of there now, because what’s to keep any of us from just dropping by on any given day? No. They would steer

clear of there right now. But…” Colton snaps his fingers and sits up

straighter. “What about the house?”

“What about it?” Hai dyn inquires.

“We never went into the house that night. You were in an entirely different location on the property. What if while we were res cuing you, they moved everyone to the house. Then when we left, they moved them back?” He shrugs. “Be cause it was like a week later that you guys went to the house, right? Looking for the founders’ enhancements? They could have just shuffled the women around while we went from one location to another. Be cause each time, Bill knew you were going and could have given them the heads-up.”

“It’s pos si ble.” Haidyn nods to himself.

“I think it’s dumb of us to as sume they only operate out of one lo‐ cation,” Ryat says with a shrug. “Surely they have multiple sites for situ ations like this…to move them.”

“What is this Dollhouse?” the detective asks, re mind ing us that he’s still in the room. “I need its address so I can get a war rant—”

“Stay the fuck away from it. We don’t need one,” Tyson interrupts him and adds, “It’s for us. Not for you.” The detective sighs.

“So what do we do about Bill?” Ryat goes on.

“Nothing,” I rush out, and everyone looks at me. “We need proof.” I try to think rationally.

There are four of us in this room who know why we can’t hand over Bill. Adam made a deal with him. If we kill Bill, what happens to our brother? Who pro tects him? He’s been on the run for four years.

I won’t have his blood on my hands. Maybe this was Bill’s plan all along. To get wrapped up with Adam so we couldn’t take him down.

He knows we’re loyal to each other and would do whatever we need to do for one another.

“You’re close with him.” Tyson looks at Sin. “Can you get in touch with Bill? See what you can find out with out making it look like you’re digging for information?”

“He’s practically Haidyn’s father-in-law,” Sin states, pointing at Hai‐ dyn. “Have him do it.”

Sin doesn’t want to get involved. He thinks I’ve betrayed him, and now that there’s a possibility Bill is no good, he doesn’t want him

around Elli or his unborn children. I hate that he can even think I’d put his family in danger.

“We haven’t had any contact with him since he was at Carnage last.” Haidyn shrugs.

Lie. But for good reason. None of them need to know about our midnight flight in his private jet after Adam’s pre tend fu neral.

“But it doesn’t add up,” I say. “Dollhouse is about human trafficking and sex slavery. Torture and rape make sense due to the nature of that god-aw ful place, but why kill them when they could be useful to their busi ness? Why waste your product?” It’s Business 101. You don’t smoke your stash, because then you don’t have any product to sell. Why kill the women they could make money off of?”

Tyson rubs his chin, and the detective just scratches the back of his neck. No one has an answer for that.

“What about the bodies?” Ryat asks, looking at the detective.

“Seven bodies in seven days? Seems like a game to me. How did

you know where they were?”

“We got calls.”

“From whom? Have you vetted them?” Ryat goes on.

“Yeah.” He crouches down and digs into his backpack again. Pulling out a notebook, he lays it on the coffee ta ble and licks the tips of his fingers before riffling through the pages until he finds what he wants. “All were found in places they died except for one. Random calls from campers, hikers, passersby.”

“How do you know they were found where they were killed?” I ask.

“The scene…and blood.” Haynes looks at me. “They were tortured where they were found, except for this one.” He looks through the pictures on the ta ble and then pushes one out of the pile. It’s of a woman lying naked in the middle of a cemetery. She lies across a grave, face down, hands se cured behind her back with barbed wire, her ankles bound as well. It’s wrapped around her neck and all around her face. Several fingers are missing and she’s covered in bruises and old scars, and what looks like burn marks cover her

thighs.

I’ve seen this grave before.

“What’s up with the burn marks?” Ryat asks. “Think they tortured her for information? Maybe it wasn’t about selling them; maybe they knew something.”

“She was burned in three places and had several fingers re moved.

All while still alive.” The detective looks up at him. “As far as we can tell, they were re moving tattoos…birthmarks. Anything that would stand out. Her parents had pictures of her all over the news when they re ported her missing three months ago. If, for whatever reason, she had to be moved and a civilian spotted her, they wouldn’t want her to have any dis tinguish ing marks.”

“I feel like a woman with missing fin gers would cause more of a scene than a birthmark,” Alex observes and shrugs. “But that’s just me.”

Ryat glances away, running a hand down his face.

“What’s…carved into her back?” Sin asks, lean ing forward to get a better look.

“You’re next,” the detective answers. “That was also done while she was still alive.” Standing up, he places his hands on his hips. “She was the last one found, but we think she was the first to be killed because she had been dead for quite some time. And she was the only one who appeared to be dumped.”

“Where?” Ryat growls when he doesn’t explain the exact location.

“A cemetery.” He checks his notes. “It was behind a cathedral —”

Everyone starts talking at once, and Tyson holds up his hands.

“Whoa,” he hollers, shushing all of us as he looks at the detective and barks, “You said none are re lated to the Lords.”

“They aren’t.”

“Then how the fuck do you ex plain where she was dumped?” Hai‐ dyn snaps. “Sounds pretty close to the Lords to me. Not many civil‐ ians know the cathedral is there, let alone the aban doned cemetery behind it where so many Lords are buried.”

The detective shakes his head. “None of the women have any fam‐ ily re la tion to the Lords.”

How the fuck does he know? He’s not a Lord, and it’s not like a Lord will tell you he’s one. Any of these parents could have chosen to keep that bit of information to themselves.

“Doesn’t mean she wasn’t fuck ing one,” Alex says with a shrug.

“They’re all over. Bar rington and House of Lords. This is a college town. She could have met one here at Blackout. Been fuck ing him for weeks and not even known who he truly was.”

“Who re ported the body?” Saint demands. It’s the first time he’s spoken since we started.

The detective looks at the paper once again and reads off the

name. “Everett. Everett Sinclair.”

Sometimes I hate it when I’m right.

Haynes goes on, “But she was cleared. Her story checked out. It was just a wrong-place-wrong-time sort of thing.”

Bullshit. My girl goes there every night. At least she had been since I started following her.

“Who the fuck is in an aban doned cemetery that belongs to the Lords?” Saint demands. “Doesn’t seem like ‘wrong place wrong time’ to me.”

I look over at Haidyn to see if he’s catching on. He gives me a soft nod, and my teeth grind. He’s think ing exactly what I al ready know.

About five ten, green eyes, bleached blond, and likes to play with a torch. “I’ll look into it,” I tell everyone.

All eyes are on me now. “What do you mean, you’ll look into it?”

I’m surprised Sin is speak ing directly to me, but the way he rises to his feet and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans tells me he thinks I’m up to some thing. Like I said, he no longer trusts me. “I mean I’ll look into it,” I re peat. That’s all anyone in this room is get‐ ting out of me.

Saint and Haidyn don’t know who the woman was that stapled the threat to my back, and now I’m glad I kept that to myself.

“Sorry if that doesn’t give me any re as surance. We re cently find out there’s a fuck ing sex trafficking ring that involves the Lords, and some of us in here have wives with children on the way.” He steps

closer to me.

“Sin—”

He lifts his hand to cut off Hai dyn, then continues to speak to me.

“I don’t know about the oth ers, but when it comes to my pregnant wife, I don’t trust anyone to do what’s best for her. And when it

comes down to it, you sure as fuck can’t pro tect her.” With that, his cold stare moves to Haidyn. Then he rips the door open and storms out of Tyson’s office.

A silence falls over the room before it’s interrupted when a member of the Blackout staff comes over Tyson’s speaker from the phone on his desk. “Fight. Three guys.”

“Go,” Tyson orders, pointing to the door, and his four men jump up and rush out of the room.

“Well, I’ll keep you updated.” The detective picks up his backpack and nods to Ty, who does the same.

Once he leaves, Haidyn pushes off the wall. “Off the record?” he asks.

Tyson sits back in his chair. “Of course.” His eyes going to each of us.

“I don’t think these women were at Dollhouse,” Haidyn states.

Ty frowns. “What makes you say that?”

I plop down on the couch opposite Saint, in the spot Sin just va‐ cated, and pick up the photos scattered across the ta ble. “We re‐ cently found out some information…” I trail off, looking over the seven girls. Each one had their fair share of torture and I’m sure were raped. Who knows what they endured or for how long.

One is lying by a creek bed, her throat slashed. My stomach tight‐ ens at how familiar it looks. Some might think that’s a quick death, but the bruising to her sunburned skin tells a different story. They strung her up outside for days, leaving her to rot. By the cuts on her chest and stomach, they probably cut her enough to bleed but not die. The blood would attract animals to feed off her. Until some one came along and decided her life was over and ended it.

“I’m lis tening,” Ty says.

I pick up a few pictures and drop them on his desk. He lowers his

eyes to scan them once again.

“What am I looking for, exactly?”

“No barcodes.”

He frowns. Look ing back up at me. “What do you mean barcodes?”

“We re cently found out that Adam’s chosen was a victim at Doll‐ house. She had a barcode on her inner thigh. None of these women

have them. Nowhere on their bodies that I can see, anyway.”

“Is it a tattoo or like something they can actu ally scan?”

I tilt my head to the side and Haidyn runs a hand down his face.

“I…we don’t know,” he re sponds.

“What does it matter?” Saint growls. “It’s definitely a mark of some kind.”

“I gave my guys a tattoo that has a certain type of ink that can be traced. It scans and grants them access to Blackout at all times,”

Tyson explains.

I get a sickening feeling in my gut.

“So if it’s the same kind of ink…maybe members of Dollhouse scan

it,” Tyson offers.

“Can you track it?” Hai dyn asks.

“Like GPS? No.” Ty turns on his computer. His fin gers fly over the keys before a screen pops up on the TV hang ing on the wall, show‐ ing us a sched ule that has names and time stamps. “But it does log every time someone uses it to en ter.”

“Maybe that’s why she had it. To keep track of who they use and when they use them. Can it be linked to an account?”

“What do you mean by account?” Tyson wonders.

“Like payment. You pick a girl. Scan the code, automatic payment to use her.”

“I don’t see why not. It would depend on what type of pro gram they use.” He shrugs. “But I don’t know why they’d want a trail. It would be too easy to find who paid for each girl and when. There’s no disputing some thing like that.”

I nod in understanding and get to my feet. But why would they have to dispute it? I’m sure they’ve been getting away with this for years.

“You know he’s in way over his head, right?” Haidyn says to Tyson, re fer ring to the detective feeding us information.

“Yeah.” He sighs, sitting back in his chair. “The guy is going to end up dead, but at least he’ll be useful while he’s still breathing.”

“Do you think he’s telling you everything?” Saint asks.

“I think he’s telling me enough.”

“He has no clue what he’s looking for,” Saint adds.

“Obviously.” He taps the photo of one of the women. “You guys know more by just looking at them than he does. But I’ll make sure he continues to show us what he has, and we’ll do our own inves ti‐ gating.”