Shame. Anger. And under it, something I refuse to name.
“She refused to share with Tex what her task was. She has no reason to trust us.”
“Sounds like an excuse.” His voice has that familiar edge.
"I will find something," I say. “Something effective.”
"See that you do.”
A pause, long enough to make me wonder if he’s hung up.
“I raised you to be ruthless. Not merciful."
"I won't let you down."
“You better not.”
The line clicks. I reach up, loosening my tie, just the slightest bit. Then push through the doors to the common room.
Noah’s at the desk, typing, the glow of his laptop screen reflecting off his glasses. Luca is sprawled across the couch behind him, legs dangling over the armrest, his tie loose and blazer missing. Tex sits rigidly in a chair, scrolling on his phone.
"There he is," Luca drawls, sitting up with a lazy stretch. “Thought you died.”
"Got held up." I slide into the seat next to Noah. "Find anything?"
Noah nods, swiveling the laptop over so I can see his screen. “Yeah, found a police report. Open investigation."
"What did she do?"
"She didn't do anything. She's the victim."
Victim?
That catches me off guard.
Isaw the school pictures Noah was able to pull from her last school. She looked like a street rat.
Dull, brown hair yanked back, strands falling everywhere, oversized hoodie, hollow cheeks, eyes too big for her face. No smile. Plain.
“What happened?” I ask.
Noah clicks a folder. The screen fills with tiny thumbnails.
"She claims her stepdad raped her." Another click. “Here. Hospital records.”
The page is cold, clinical text.
"She was brought in by some random man that almost hit her with his car. She stumbled out into the street and passed out. She was rushed into surgery for internal bleeding from a tear in her liver. Evidence of rape so they waited until she woke up for the kit.”
My jaw tightens. I don’t flinch, but I feel the others go still.
Tex walks over to stand behind us. "When was this?”
“A couple of months ago. On her eighteenth birthday." Noah pushes his glasses up on his nose.
I flip through the images, enlarging one after another. The bruises. Torn skin. Fear in her eyes.
Perfect ammunition.
