Reese

He curses. “Titus was a sick fuck. He was responsible for all those who went missing. He made a fortune on the death matches and tossed the losers aside like garbage, exactly like we suspected.”

“It was his illness that changed things, wasn’t it?”

He nods. “I don’t know the ins and outs, and with the key players dead, I’m not sure we ever will. But we rounded up the goons we could find and interrogated them for hours for info.

“Mr. Philip Duncan is, or was, Titus’s half-brother. That’s not what was holding him there, though. It seems Duncan has a sixteen-year-old daughter whom Titus has been blackmailing him with. She was injured in a freak accident and has been in a coma for the last six years. Titus threatened to have her killed if Duncan didn’t comply with his wishes.

“It’s brutal, but it’s also a cop-out. He could have gone to the cops or taken Titus out himself. Instead, he abducted people and either killed them for Titus or stood by and did nothing to save them.”

I close my eyes and grit my teeth.

“That’s why he seemed familiar. It’s his face in the artist’s sketch.”

“Bill didn’t do a bad job of describing him. But it was dark, so it wasn’t perfect, which is why I think the rest of us missed it. That and the scar threw us off.”

“I can hear the guilt in your voice. You have nothing to be feeling guilty for. We were already far too late by then,” Graves tells him.

“We found traces of Philip’s blood on the penknife. Bill fought hard and left us with proof––”

“But it wasn’t enough to save him.” I blow out a breath. “So it started out as a fucked-up blood sport to make money, but then Titus ended up getting off on the carnage. And when he got sick, he decided to turn it into a twisted game. He wanted to leave a legacy behind, but Jesus, I didn’t foresee this.”

“How could you?” Sugar asks.

“What I don’t get is, when the game changed and he decided to do these fights to find the next owner of the Colosseum, why did he keep kidnapping homeless people? They sure as hell weren’t being made to fight anymore because we would have seen them.” Vega asks, sounding pissed off and confused.

“He’s right. People were still being taken, but if they weren’t being forced to fight anymore, why keep taking them? He had to know it would draw attention eventually.”

“From what we can gather, when the first few people were disposed of this way, it was a rash decision based on a potential police raid. They needed to get rid of the bodies, so they tossed them to the on-site butcher. I don’t know whose call it was to cook and serve them.” Law swallows hard, looking a little green. “But the food got a reputation as being the best around, and I can just imagine the glee that gave Titus.”

“He found another way to feed his psychotic tendencies, leaving virtually no evidence behind.” Sugar snarls.

“So, he kept on taking these poor people just to add them to his menu?” My stomach pitches again but thankfully I don’t puke.

“It looks that way. I saw him looking over the crowd. He was so fucking proud of himself. The puppet master pulling everyone’s strings. I’m so fucking glad you told us not to eat the food there.” Law shudders.

“Fuck, me too,” Vega grumbles.

“I wanted justice. Hell, I held out hope we could bring some of them home. But now, it feels like it was all for nothing.”

“Not for nothing. Titus and Duncan paid for what they did, as will his minions. Nobody else will ever be subjected to the horrors those victims faced. And that’s all because of you guys,” Sugar tells me, her voice threaded with steel, letting me know she won’t let me have a pity party.

“What happens now?” Blink asks.

I look over at him before slowly turning back to Sugar.

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Sugar,” I whisper.

“No, I won’t accept that. You can pick and choose what role you want to play, and you can commute if you want, but I refuse to let you leave. I can’t do this without you.”

“I will always be a Candy Girl, Sugar, but I need something more now.”

“It doesn’t have to be an either-or situation, Reese. You can train the newbies. Hell, you have your own protection team right here to watch your back. The world needs people in it like you.”

“Sug.” I reach out and offer her my hand. She takes it, gripping it tightly, a slight tremor running up her arm.

“I need to talk to my guys. We have a lot to figure out, but I’d like to stay if you can pull me from cases that I won’t be comfortable doing.”

She knows I’m talking about fucking a mark. That will be a hard no.

“At this point, I’ll agree to anything,” she states with a wry grin.

“It’s good you said that because I need you to tell me what the fuck to do with a lion.”