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Fifty-One
Savannah
"We’re joinedthis evening by Savannah Daniels, daughter of Dagger Daniels, and the writer of the exposés that have taken the country by storm. Welcome, Savannah, and thank you for being here."
I shot Jason Newell a tight smile. "I’m not sure why you have to bring my father into it, Jason," I baited him. "As far as I’m aware, his music didn’t help me write the exposés."
His smile froze. "No, I suppose you’re right."
"There’s no supposing about it."
He cleared his throat, but I saw his brain whirring as, A, the producer probably yelled in his ear, while B, he tried hard not to glower at me for being difficult.
Deciding not to make his life easier, I waited for him to speak, and when dead air hit, I had to hide a smile.
This felt good.
Women were too often without a voice, and that was revealed in my exposés. Countless voices forever silenced, countless women sold and traded like commodities, countless bodies crossing borders to become the pleasure slaves of men with too much money and power in their hands.
If it made me militant, then so be it. Especially when I knew Newell had a rep as bad as Wintersen’s.
"So, Savannah," Newell eventually gritted out, "the exposés you’ve written have been utterly fascinating."
"Thank you," I demurred.
"How long have you been working on them?"
"Quite a while."
His jaw tensed. "How did you discover the New World Sparrows?"
"Through research and some sources that shall remain nameless." He relaxed when he saw I was willing to speak freely. "It’s quite interesting how the current political climate enabled this group to metastasize inside the country’s government, on both a federal and state level.
“I admit, the first time I came across them, I thought it was a conspiracy. Then, I met some of the real victims of the New World Sparrows."
Newell tipped his head to the side, his interest clear. "Real victims? You’ve never mentioned the specifics in your articles about how you came across this information."
"No. For a reason." I’d been waiting until I was invited onto a TV news station. "I’ve spoken with the women who were prostituted by the NWS for their own members’ pleasure, as perks of the job, if you will. Never mind to make the group richer and more powerful as members began cropping up in both low-level government positions and at the top of the ladder too."
"You’ve spoken with these women? What did they say?" he prompted eagerly.
I blinked. Wasn’t he listening? I’d literally just answered that. .
When I didn’t reply, he cleared his throat again. "Over the holiday period, you released key names that are integral to the running of this country—"
"—and the NWS."
He grimaced at my interruption. "Yes. Is there a reason you decided to do so now?"
"Should I have waited until after Christmas?" I asked dryly. "Should I have let these monsters have one last Christmas with their families?"
"No, that’s not what I’m saying."
"Isn’t it?"
His eyes narrowed at me, but I ignored his agitation.
If he’d started any other way than by introducing me as my father’s daughter, I wouldn’t have been this difficult. But I was more than just Dagger Daniels’ kid. I was Savannah Daniels, and through the NWS, my name would come to mean a whole helluva lot more in the annals of this nation’s history than as the spawn of a rockstar.
