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“Thank you all for taking the time to be with us today,” I begin, still refusing to look at the crowd. “As you know, my family and I aren’t the biggest fans of the press. The last time we spoke was at my father’s funeral. An unfortunate day, just like this one.” I clear my throat, finally lifting my eyes to take in the crowd. My lips part as I plan to continue with my prepared speech. Though I am quickly silenced by what I find before me, or rather,whoI find.
Cara’s ghost stands among the crowd. Like so many times before, the chill of death accompanies her, pricking at my skin. Only, unlike before, she opens her mouth and, for the first time in over a year, I hear my sister’s voice.I wish I died that way, in a car crash while having the time of my life in Europe. The sun would’ve felt so good on my skin. It’s the last thing I would remember.
She pauses, as if reliving the last moment of her life. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered what she experienced, what her final moments were like. I pray endlessly that she knew how much Sophia and I love her, how we,I, never stopped searching for her. But being haunted by her makes me think my prayers went unanswered.
As my heart threatens to rip out of my chest, Cara’s eyes find me once more. And despite her ghoulish disposition, in her gaze I find glimmers of the girl I once knew, the sister I swore to protect. Which only makes what she says next that much more gut-wrenching.
No fear. No pain. My death would’ve been instant. But that’s not what happened, and you know it.As the words cross her lips, tears fall from her sunken eyes. The sight is too much for me to bear. Not only does she haunt me, but she is haunted by the horror she was forced to endure.
I grip the mic stand for support as my knees threaten to give out. I sense Gio inch closer, though he doesn’t make any obvious moves to steady me. Once more, I lower my head as I collect myself. That’s when I feel Sophia’s hand on my back. I turn to her to find her tears have dried, and instead of the lifeless expression I saw before, her cheeks glow with a strength I envy.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
I nod, somehow finding it in me to turn away from the crowd. Sophia and Gio exchange a glance of concern as the crowd begins to whisper. “I don’t want to lie about what happened. I…” I shake my head. “Cara would want us to tell the truth.”
“But, Boss, you know what that means. Everything we’ve done to keep Cara’s abduction and murder a secret, everything we’ve done to avoid a war will be for nothing.”
As Gio states what I know to be fact, understanding washes over Sophia. Her lips part as she realizes the morbid reality I’ve been protecting her from. Finally, she says, “I’m prepared for the consequences.”
“No, you aren’t,” I tell her.
“Maybe not,” Sophia admits. “But I’m prepared to die. Isn’t it all the same in the end?”
My golden eyes search hers just as Gio searched mine the night we attempted to save Cara. In them I find no hesitation, not even fear. Though she should be afraid. We all should be. Because if I do this, we will face the greatest threat of our lives, a war so bloody it could very well end the Amato line. Yet, after everything that’s happened, losing our parents and now our sister, like Sophia, I don’t hesitate when I consider if I’m ready to leave this world. So much of me is already dead. At that, I turn. Hand in hand with Sophia, I face the crowd once more and prepare to deliver the words I never expected to say.
“Over a year ago, we learned of a criminal organization operating in our city. Known only as the brotherhood, they preyed on innocent young women, mostly those attending universities here in New Orleans. Through various tactics they tricked these women into attending parties where they were drugged and assaulted.” As I speak, the members of the media lean in, forcing their microphones closer to the stage as they hold their breath.
“It was a dark day for our city when the FBI finally succeeded in taking down this despicable, heinous organization. Because it was on this day that we learned the brotherhood was more than what we originally thought. As if a domestic group of sex predators wasn’t enough, we learned the brotherhood was a front for a global sex trafficking syndicate that had been operating for over a decade. Over that time, thousands of women were abducted, trafficked, and once sold, experienced unthinkable abuse.”
I pause, once again searching the crowd for Cara. As I say these next words, I want her to know I’m doing it for her. I’m risking everything for her, because her memory deserves to be honored, not painted over with so much rose gold tomorrow’s news reads “New Orleans Heiress Dead in Italy in High-Speed Crash.” She deserves more than that. She deserves for the truth to be told. Finally, I find her. She looks at me with the same sad expression as always. I take her in, knowing that if my words grant her peace, this will be the last time I see her. I clear my throat and—
“Though the men responsible for these crimes are either dead or in jail, their victims and the families of their victims are forever scarred by the trauma they inflicted. Today, along with my sister Sophia, I want to extend my deepest condolences to the survivors of this atrocity. We share your pain.”
At that, whispers swarm among the media while Sophia releases her hand from mine and lifts it to her mouth, fresh emotion overtaking her. I look over my shoulder and motion for Gio to take Sophia to the car. Thankfully, she doesn’t protest. Though, without her next to me, a heaviness returns, the same heaviness I’ve felt ever since my father took his last breath. I am the Blood King, and this burden is mine, no matter how badly I wish it wasn’t.
“Our sister, Cara Amato, was one of the brotherhood’s victims.” The words cut through me like jagged glass. “She was taken from her dorm room in the middle of the night, right here in New Orleans. And she was never seen or heard from again.”
The truth is met with gasps, wide eyes, and a slew of questions being shouted in my direction. Feeling the weight of the moment taking its toll, I end my remarks with both a prayer and a warning. “Today we honor my sister’s memory and all those who’ve suffered at the hands of the brotherhood and similar syndicates. May the suffering of evil men be eternal. And may the souls of their victims find peace.”
I blink the emotion from my eyes just long enough to see Cara disappear before me. I hope she finds the peace she deserves. I hope the truth will set her free, even if it means the death of me.
4
Freshly showered,dressed in a cream-colored oversize T-shirt and pale blue cotton shorts, I wrap my damp hair in a towel and make my way through my French Quarter apartment. Sunlight beams in through the glass of my double French doors, illuminating the small, shotgun-style space. Bouncing off my white walls and onto my bare arms, the sunlight dries the few water droplets remaining.
I make my way to the living room, grab the remote from the coffee table, and turn on the TV for background noise before plopping down on my gray couch. With all the thoughts constantly running through my mind and the foot traffic just outside my door, silence isn’t my friend. And yet, the moment the red light flips off and the TV clicks on, I regret my decision. Because staring back at me is none other than the dark-haired, square-jawed Alister Amato—the Blood King himself.
I take a deep breath and debate changing the channel from my usual news broadcast. I bite my lip. Rather than test my self-control in front of Bilieux and the rest of the world, I left the park before the Amatos arrived. Still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what they had to say. One reason the Amatos have gotten away with their illegal operation for so long is because they stay out of the public eye. Well, as much as the wealthiest and most influential family in New Orleans can.
To be honest, I was shocked when we received a witness testimony against them. I thought for sure that Emma girl was lying. But then, I looked into her track record. She was the one who broke the case against the brotherhood over a year ago. A credible source, to say the least. Her testimony accompanied by the evidence she gathered during her time at the Amato estate was enough to pique my interest and make me question everything I thought I knew about the Amatos. But it wasn’t until the night of the brotherhood takedown that I truly accepted her word as truth.
“Valentine, I want you to photograph every inch of this place. The evidence we gather tonight will help us take down two syndicates. We can’t afford to miss anything.”
“Yes, sir.” I grab the camera from the back of the SUV as Agent Bilieux addresses the rest of the team. I approach the boat, formerly used by the brotherhood, photographing the entrance and the rails of the boarding ramp seeing as they’ve already been dusted for fingerprints. But once inside, I follow the voices and the frenzy of agents to the primary crime scene—the porcelain white room now drenched in blood and spattered with bullet holes. Biological evidence degrades the fastest, and from what I’m told, there’s a lot here that needs to be captured.
As I reach the double doors leading into the grand ballroom aboard the luxury yacht, I lift my camera. I’m prepared for the blood, guts, exposed bones, and the stench of human excrement that usually accompanies a mass murder scene such as this one. And yet, what I find through the lens of my camera is nothing short of the stuff of nightmares. My nightmares to be exact. At the sight of it, the camera slips through my fingers. The only thing keeping it from falling to the floor is the strap hung around my neck.
“Agent, are you okay?” I turn to my right to find a man I don’t know looking at me with concern. Perhaps he’s CIA, given his lack of visible credentials and the international implications of this investigation. As my eyes meet his, my tongue swells in my mouth, inhibiting my speech. I nod and manage to take a step forward. I don’t want him to see the sweat budding on my lip and forehead nor my trembling fingers.
