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“We’ve got them, sir. We’ve got the names of their associates, transaction records detailing the sale of illegal drugs, schematics of their compound, and a witness testimony to back it all up. And, with all due respect, we didn’t work for any of it. Alister Amato and his organization was handed to us on a silver platter by Emma Marshall. Imagine what else we could find if we only looked for ourselves. Imagine the connections they must have to other syndicates.”
“Valentine!” I jump as my boss’s voice roars through the room. I know I’ve crossed a line. No. I’ve obliterated the line between passion and obsession. But I can’t help myself, not after what I saw. “We don’t have a choice. The Amato organization is at the top of our list, but there is one organization that is even more of a priority.”
“The brotherhood,” I mumble.
As SSA Bilieux speaks, my heartbeat slows. “Our witness didn’t only provide information on Amato. She provided intel on the brotherhood. And now we have a chance to take them down, to save hundreds, if not thousands of women from their captors and keep many more from ever being victimized. But, in order to do that, we need information that only Alister Amato has.”
My cheeks burn as the truth lands heavy on me. I’m not a monster. I want to help those women. And, any other day of the week, I’d prioritize taking down a sex trafficking syndicate over a drug kingpin. But not today. No, no, I can’t. Slowly, my arms begin to tremble, and my eyes fill with tears.
“Ariana?” Ray reaches for me, but I pull my hand away. I turn in his direction, but my vision is too blurry to make out his features.
“You have to ask him. You have t—”
“Ariana, you can ask Alister Amato anything you want—one year from today.” As Bilieux, the agent in charge, gives his order, I break.
I blacked out and went on a rampage that ended with me facedown on the floor of the bureau in handcuffs. The aftermath comes to me only in snippets. The flipped desk, the torn papers. The broken glass surrounding me and the blood trickling down my arm. As we walk, I catch a glimpse of the scar just beneath my thumb. It’s a constant reminder of the day a facade eighteen years in the making came crumbling to the ground.
“It’s a wonder I didn’t get fired. Still, it wouldn’t surprise me if they wait to bring me back until after the Amato investigation is complete. After how I acted, there’s no way they could put me on the case. The Amatos no doubt have top attorneys. If they caught wind of my outburst, any evidence I discovered would be deemed inadmissible.”
“But we’ve still got nine months before we can even open an investigation into the Amatos. And, like you said, they know we’re coming. They’ve got plenty of time to alert their contacts and change up their operations. It could be a year or more before we’re able to close the books on them.”
I nod. “Don’t remind me.”
“Hey.” Ray stops, forcing me to stop with him. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to bring them to justice, and you will have your position back in no time.” The sincerity in his eyes warms my heart, so much so there’s a part of me that wishes things could be different, that wants to let him get to know the real me, even the parts I hide from myself. But that part of me is squashed by the screams, the blood, and the eerie chill of death that reminds me I’m broken. And nothing but the truth will fix me, if even that.
“Thanks, um, everything in due time, right?” Ray nods, though as he drops his eyes to his feet, I can tell there’s something more he wishes to ask me. I bite my lip, not wanting to encourage him, but I can’t help it. “Ray? Is there something else?”
“Yeah, um, that day at the bureau, you never finished telling me what you wanted me to ask Amato. You said, ‘You have to ask him.’ Ask him what?” My chest tightens as I remember back, my brows furrowing as I feign confusion. There’s only one benefit to the blackout rage I experienced that day. No one questions me when I tell them I don’t remember what happened or why I was so adamant we investigate Alister Amato as soon as possible. But that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“That day is such a blur, Ray.” I shake my head. “If I said something along those lines, I don’t remember why. And what I do remember, I try not to. It, um, it wasn’t my finest moment.”Understatement of the year.
Emotion fills Ray’s baby blue eyes as I refuse to open up. I can’t be sure if he pities me or if he can tell I’m lying. The only thing I’m certain of is that he doesn’t judge me, which only makes lying to him that much harder.
“Come on. I don’t want to make you late for work. Bilieux might decide to extend my sentence.”
Ray lets out a chuckle, shifting back into his lighthearted self. “You really are the Queen of Mystery, you know that?”
“Oh, you know. It’s all part of my charm.” And yet,charmingis the last word I’d use to describe myself and my life.
When I was ten years old, I was placed into the foster care system, which made for an uncertain and traumatic adolescence as I bounced from house to house. The scar on my hand isn’t my first nor the most memorably earned. But no matter what happened between those four walls during those eight years, it never compared to what happened before I entered the system.
I close my eyes as if to blink away the memories that never leave me, but it’s no use. Instead of the warm, tree-filled park, I’m right back at that old, drafty apartment. The one with the loose floorboards, roaches crawling on the walls, and mold growing in the corner. Moans and screams fill my ears just as they did all those years ago. After what feels like forever, a man adjusts his pants as he leaves the room my mother and I shared. And then it’s quiet, so quiet I feel like I’m the only person left on the planet. That is, until my mother appears, adjusts her apron, and offers to make me a sandwich. Her face is damp with tears as she does. There are bruises on her arms and around her throat. And yet, all of this, this Hell that my mother endured, for God only knows what reason, is not the thing I remember most. Not by a long shot.
“Hey, Bilieux, twelve o’clock.” Ray gives me a nudge, alerting me to our boss just up ahead. I welcome the distraction from my own personal Hell. Though, I can’t help but find my boss’s presence strange. I’ve run this trail enough to know it can’t mean anything good. Ray and I pick up the pace, meeting Bilieux among a group of media trucks and workers setting up a makeshift stage.
“Agent Bilieux.”
“Agent Valentine.” My boss gives me a once-over as Ray and I approach. The last time I saw him he pressed his knee into the center of my back as he pinned me to the floor. Our exchange is quick and to the point, which only makes me feel more uneasy, both about my future with the FBI and his reason for being here this morning.
“What’s up, Boss?” Ray asks, oblivious to the tension I feel. He offers his hand to Bilieux while I do my best to avoid eye contact.
“I’m on an assignment. There’s an important press conference about to take place, and I want to personally see that it goes as planned.” I feel Bilieux’s eyes shift to me as he speaks, though I keep mine focused on scanning the park.
“Press conference? What’s it about?” Ray asks.
Bilieux clears his throat, and thinking me preoccupied, pulls Ray a few steps away. That’s when I notice them. Amato soldiers dressed in black suits, no doubt strapped with nines, create a secure perimeter around the stage. I’d recognize their faces in my sleep, though I can’t let Bilieux know. Because, despite orders to use my time off to relax and seek psychological help, I’ve been conducting an investigation of my own into the Amato outfit, expanding on the original intel provided by our civilian informant. The presence of Amato soldiers can mean only one thing. Their boss is on his way. This press conference is for him. And Bilieux isn’t here to make sure it goes smoothly. He’s here to make sure I don’t do something stupid.
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