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The Pavilion. A name, a business with warped minded people who needed to be erased from this earthly plane.
What they did was so cleverly executed.
Alongside his business partners, Mayor Adrian West had transformed the illegal trade of prostitution and sex trafficking to twist in the way that suited them. Surprisingly, it wasn’t sleazy, their businesses weren’t conducted in back-end dive bars or in decrepit, dirty old rundown establishments. No, they were hidden in plain sight and woven into the fabric of our society. It filtered through East Bay and the surrounding states where the Mayor once stood, and claimed that these particular crimes were something he wouldn’t stand for. Ironic, that he’d been the one who’d orchestrated it, under everyone’s noses. They didn’t buy humans in crate loads and put them up on a platform to sell to the highest bidder. They didn’t push junkies to fuck for their next fix to earn them their money.
The Pavilion cultivated a specific niche in their business. Each victim was different because each victim had a precise individuality about them, sought after from an extensive, worldwide client list. Clients gave detailed descriptions of what they wanted—girl or boy, woman or man, underage or legal. From there it spiralled into details on hair or eye colour, height, weight. Even specifics such as freckles, beauty marks and scars. Ethnicity, race.
Simply put, it was ordering a human to requirement.
There was a flavour for everybody. High profile clients, ones in the public eye, were also requested but I guessed they had to be a lot more careful about that, not that it stopped them. There were closed cases of a few well-known names I recognised. Their training was completed and they were shipped to their buyer.
A multitude of photos, videos, and written notes were given for each entity. Those who were appointed to train these victims catalogued every detail no matter how small. Updating their buyer before they were passed over and only being allowed to leave once they had reached a certain level of broken in, per the client’s request.
On occasion, The Pavilion kidnapped their chosen ones, ripping them away from the safety they knew, and thrust them into a world of despair and slavery. Some lived with these monsters nearby and had to carry on everyday life while being twisted to perfection as per order. Broken down body and soul, trained in distinct methods so they would live up to their captors’ needs and desires.
One trainer—abuser—was prescribed to each person, they didn’t want to loosen them up too much. Their words. Unless specified. Each trainer held a long list of victims.
High class prostitutes, they were rented out on long term contracts, months and even years, until they were returned, used up or ready for the next person. Or simply disposed of and made to pay a fee to the Pavilion for compensation. Their flesh was not as coveted as the ones who sold, but there was still a keen interest in a shorter-term purchase.
Sickening. Degrading.
The woman I loved,weloved, had been dragged into this world by the son of the fucking monster who was just as despicable as his father. He didn’t protect Milla. Adam took her for himself and dealt the cards in his favour using his position within the company to keep her in her place.
I was unsure if she knew the depths of what she’d been involved in, if she was aware that she wasn’t the only one. But that realisation wouldn’t make anybody feel better. I didn’t think we could understand the things she had fully been through yet; we’d only seen snippets of the abuse thrown at her which already had my trigger finger itching in itself.
Was I even strong enough to listen to the rest of what she’d been through? It became different when it was somebody you knew, loved and cared for. It made it too real.
Dealing with this on a personal level mixed in with work changed things and made me feel way more than I wanted to. I wished this was just some sick, twisted dream my mind had cultivated, but we were going to have to face the cold hard truth and handle it straight up. It was our reality.
Milla would need to lean on us more than ever, no doubt that’d rub her the wrong way. That girl had been through hell yet remained independent and strong. What she’d lived with had shaped her in ways we couldn’t comprehend.
Her mental health was going to have to be a priority. It wasn’t just the physical and sexual abuse that Adam had inflicted, it was the mental battering to her psyche that could be the difference between life and death. I was unsure which way the scales were tipping for Milla at this point in time.
We were too close to the situation, clouded by emotions, ignoring the facts laid straight in front of our faces.We were blind. Judging her, making her feel worthless, probably even more worthless than she already felt.
I scrubbed my hands over my face in frustration. My mind was a mess. I felt like I was on a fast-tracked theme park ride, up and down, round and round, adrenaline pumping throughout my body, knowing the drop at the end would be stomach clenching. Life altering. She’d been caught up in a minefield, only one piece of the puzzle, but a part that connected more for us to work through, to bring those sick, evil degenerates to our own personal brand of justice.
The pounding beat in my ears distorted the voices within the room.
My eyes seared onto the dark mahogany brown conference desk.
The tunnel vision to destroy. Everything and anything. None of it mattered.
I clung onto my wrist to justfeelmy pulse, that lifeline.
I wanted to downplay my behaviour since we’d caught her with him, assuming they were the ones going on behind our backs. How wrong we were. Regret twisted in my mouth, leaving a bitter aftertaste.
“You didn’t know, son.” Dad tried to console me, with pain swimming in his eyes. He sensed something wasn’t right with her a while back, yet we swept it away without a second thought.
“We let her down. I fucking let her down.” My eyes stung; I wasn’t going to cry. Fuck no. Must be a bit of dirt in my eye.Yeah, going with that.
I glanced at those who sat within the room at our headquarters building. A central office, well-hidden secret with concealed secrets within it, this building was a goldmine for our enemies if they ever found us here.
I looked towards Hollis who hadn’t moved, he was deadly still and unnaturally silent, clearly more messed up than his usual brand. Preston looked murderous, his hands clenched with so much force his knuckles were turning white. The empty plastic bottle of water in his hand crunched loudly, drawing some looks of concern from the others within the room.
Me? I was just lost. And angry. So fucking angry.
