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“Tell me what the hell is going on. Why would you blackmail me?”
“You don’t understand. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was… I was after them. You weren’t supposed to—ARGH!”
Flynn takes the risk he was debating on. As Brenda’s momentarily distracted, he barrels toward her. His shoulder slams into her chest and knocks her to the ground. He raises his fists, about to go into attack mode. Before he can make another move, I’ve drawn my Glock, pointing it at him.
“Don’t move, Commissioner,” I warn, my aim switching between the two of them. “Nobody move until I know what the hell is going on.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he scoffs. “Liang is NorthamNeptune! She’s the one who has been blackmailing us!”
I point my gun at her. “Liang.”
She scowls from where she’s crumpled on the ground. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.”
“Then explain. Now.”
“You don’t even remember me, do you?” she asks, glaring at Flynn. “Noneof you did. That’s how sick and twisted you all are—your victims are all faceless to you.”
“It makes sense now. You’re some jaded twit from the Society parties. Which official did you sleep with who refused to leave you for his wife? I’m assuming it’s one of the ones you’ve already run into the ground like the pathetic loser you are!” Flynn shouts.
“There’s more that goes on at those parties, Commissioner. The fact that you’re pretending otherwise even now speaks volumes.” Brenda pushes herself up to her feet. An expression glazes over her face that I’ve never seen on her before. Almost a numbed sense of detachment as though she’s no longer herself. “I was fourteen when your pal Mayor Bernstein purchased me. Just another orphaned kid from Fuel the Child. Nobody looked out for me. You all turned the other cheek and pretended it wasn’t happening. You pretend none of it is happening!”
My stomach roils hearing her scream. I glance at the Commissioner as he pales like a ghost.
“You were sold?” I say slowly. “Brenda, what are you talking about?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Delphine, they’re all in on it. Every last member of that sacred club of theirs,” Brenda spits. “You name it, it happens. Anything they want is at their fingertips. It doesn’t matter how illegal, how perverse. Who’s going to stop them when they make the rules at every level?
“They have these club parties where they indulge in whatever sick things they’re into. They auction off people. Actual people. The hundreds of citizens who have gone missing each year? Guess what happened to many of them. Trafficked. Free human labor. All the sex slaves you can want. Then there’s the kids in foundations like Fuel the Child. Guess what’s really going on behind the scenes. They want you to believe it’s only organized crime that’s destroying the city. But it’s been them all along. All of them.”
“That… can’t be,” I mutter. I almost forget I’m holding my Glock and tighten my grip. “How have they gotten away with this?”
“Who’s going to stop them?”
Flynn drags a hand over his pale face. “I will admit there are… there are certain terrible things that go on. But many club members do not participate! I’ve never participated!”
Brenda barks out a shrill laugh. “Oh, you’ve never participated! Congratulations, Commissioner! You were only best friends with the man who bought me. You’re such a good man.”
“Mayor Bernstein,” I whisper, shocked. “You’ve never liked him.”
“How could I? I still remember the smell of his breath. All over me. Do you think he even knows who I am? He’s seen me dozens of times at city hall and he doesn’t even recognize me. Or any of the other children he’s harmed.”
A memory I’ve never thought about resurfaces listening to Brenda. A moment where I was keeping secrets from Dad, sneaking out for my first date with Salvatore. At the time, I was convinced I was the one doing bad things, but little did I know what I had stumbled on.
I tap on the door to Dad’s study, then enter.
“Joe, I’m not sure what you expect me to do,” Dad says.
“He’s panicking for no reason.” A man with a bushy mustache shakes his head, bringing his drink to his lips. “You have nothing to worry about. It’ll most likely go away and you’ll be in the clear.”
The third man, vaguely reminiscent of a penguin right down to his beak nose, lets out a scoff. “Easy for you to say. It’s an election year and this could spread if it gains traction.”
“Which is exactly why I can’t do anything for you,” Dad says. “You’re not the only one up for reelection. My poll numbers are steady.”
The three seem to suddenly sense an extra presence in the room. They look up and stop talking the second they realize they’re no longer alone.
I hover uncertainly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“Delphine, sweetie, what are you dressed up for?” Dad asks, standing up from his armchair. He crosses the polished room decorated with tufted leather furniture and his many accolades over the years.
