“You won’t survive long enough for them if you stay.”
Hersh crouched beside the open lockbox quickly, flipping through the photographs.
His expression kept getting darker.
“What is it?” I whispered.
He held up another photo.
And my blood ran cold.
Children.
Rows of them.
Scared.
Dirty.
Different ages.
Different years.
Some crying.
Some drugged.
Behind them?—
the raven symbol.
No.
No no no.
Tears burned my eyes instantly.
My father investigated this.
He tried to stop this.
Hersh looked furious enough to kill someone with his bare hands.
“These sick bastards…”
Rook took the photo from him slowly.
Then pulled another paper from the ledger.
His jaw tightened hard.
“What?” Wolf demanded.
Rook looked up.
And suddenly all the air disappeared from the room.
“There are names.”
