“I see,” I murmur.
I don’t want to talk to Clyde. He’s been the monster under my bed for a long,longtime, but I also can’t just stand back and allow him and his boss to steal innocent girls and force them into sex work. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t take action. Protecting those who can’t protect themselves is more important than my fear.
Besides, I have Dorian protecting me. He said I won’t have to show up, and I believe him. All I have to do is make a call to Clyde, tell him a time in place, and let Dorian’s legion and Sergei handle the rest. I don’twantto, but Ihaveto.
“You don’t have to do it,” Dorian says. “I can reach out to Clyde, but Sergei thinks that Clyde will assume anything from me is a setup. To be fair, I can’t imagine myself being civil to the piece of shit who made your life a living hellscape. I can’t promise I wouldn’t make any death threats.” He gently drags my towel up my leg, stroking his hand over the scar tissue that represents the most painful time in my life. His eyes darken as he gazes at the raised flesh and he shakes his head, rubbing his thumb over my skin.
I cup his cheeks, redirecting his gaze to me. “I’ll do it,” I tell him, shoring myself up.
Dorian releases a long sigh, almost as if he wished that Iwouldn’tagree to call Clyde.
“I can’t stand by and do nothing,” I say gently. “Not when women and girls are suffering. Not when Iknowhow cruel Carver’s operation is, how they treat the people around them. It wouldn’t be right.” I swallow. “So, I’ll do it.”
Dorian nods slowly. “Thank you, baby. I’m sorry to ask this of you.”
“It’s okay,” I murmur, even though it’s not. “I’ll live. Just… don’t be surprised if I kind of zone out afterwards.” It’s instinct for me to dissociate when I deal with all the emotions that accompany thinking about, let alone talking to, Clyde.
“You have something on him, don’t you?” Dorian asks out of the blue. “Otherwise, that fucker never would’ve let you go.”
I turn my head away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “Yes,” I say quietly. “I have something on him. Something that would get him killed.”
“What is it?” Dorian asks.
I swallow hard. I don’t want to tell him because I don’t want him to think less of me. I know for a fact that Clyde brutally tortured and killed Carver’s late wife, and I’ve kept that information to myself. That’s a phenomenally shitty thing for me to have done, but it’s also my best form of protection. Otherwise, Clyde would’ve already come for me, maybe even killed me.
I suck in a deep breath. There’s no use hiding this from Dorian, not when I’m about to set up a meeting between him and Clyde. “Please don’t judge me,” I whisper. “I’m not proud of this.”
Dorian gently squeezes my thigh. “I’ve done a lot of bad shit, Mira. I’m in no position to judge you.”
“But you are,” I say. “It’s bad.”
He cups my jaw, turning me to face him. I gaze at his chest, not having the courage to look into his eyes.
“Tell me,” he murmurs. “Trust that I won’t turn against you, Mira. Please.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. He might never look at me the same after I say this, but I don’t have much of a choice.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“When I was seventeen, I found a stash of photos Clyde keeps. Fucked up trophies of his most atrocious acts.”
“What kind of photos?” Dorian asks.
Bile rises in my throat, and I shake my head slowly. “Pictures of women. Most of them dead, all of them bloody and brutalized. The gang got up to terrible shit, and Clyde got off on beating and raping women. Killing them, too. I think he was the man Carver sent when he wanted to give a rival a message. Clyde would take the rival’s wife, torture her, rape her, and sometimes kill her.”
Dorian stiffens beneath me, but he doesn’t say anything.
“One of those pictures was of Carver’s late wife. I think she might’ve had something on Clyde, something she threatened him with. Whatever the case, she became one of his victims. Every photo has a date, a few words, and Clyde’s signature. I took the photo of Maria, Carver’s wife, got photocopies of it, and stashed them in several places. If and when my death certificate or a missing person’s report is filed in any database, that photo will be sent to Carver.”
Dorian sucks in a sharp breath, going even more tense. The energy radiating from him turns angry,furious. He’s restless and gearing for violence, and I happen to be the person nearest to him. Fear sparks in my chest.
“I know it’s terrible to keep what I know to myself,” I rush to say. “But I didn’t feel like I had another choice. Ihadto get away, and holding Clyde’s worst deed against him was the best way to do that. I’m sorry—”
“Shush,” Dorian says, pressing his index finger against my lips. “I’m not judging you, baby. I’m not mad at you. I’m fucking furious that you lived with a man like Clyde for years.” He inhales, lips pressed into a flat line. “Did he ever…?”
I shake my head. “No. For a while, I was too young, but I knew he would’ve eventually. That’s why I was so desperate to get out, to find leverage on him.” I examine Dorian’s expression. “You’re… not mad at me?”
He shakes his head. “No, Mira, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad that you had to live with a vile man who hurt you. You did what you had to do, baby.” He kisses the corner of my mouth.
