He stared at me blankly.
“What?”
“There’s no shame in being the victim of trafficking. It happens to a lot of women, unfortunately. If you tell me the truth, it might help us catch these guys. No need to make up a story.”
I stared at him for a few seconds, in disbelief. “Make up a story…?”
“Those drug operations are in South America. Not in France.”
“Then how do you explain the drugs on the streets?”
“Tourism.”
My eyebrows jumped up my face. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“Then where is the camp?”
“I just told you—”
“I need more details than that. How do you expect me to send out men to investigate when I don’t know where to send them?”
“I was a prisoner. You think they let me know that information? It was close to the Alps, so send a helicopter to scout the area—”
“Ma’am, this is a police station. We have crimes to solve. We don’t have time for fantastical stories—”
“Don’t you fucking ma’am me like I’m a Karen.”
His expression turned blank. “What?”
It was an American thing. Probably had no idea what that term meant. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m giving you as much as information as I can for you to discover and eliminate the biggest drug operation in France—”
“There is no drug operation.” He stopped taking notes, like there was no further discussion.
My heart hit my chest with every beat.
Terror washed over me.
I knew exactly what had happened without needing any physical evidence. “You know exactly what I’m talking about…”
He stared at me, stone-faced.
“But he’s paid you off…”
“Ma’am, I have no idea what—”
“Fuck off.” I left the chair in front of his desk and stepped away. “There is a woman brutally executed every single week, just because she isn’t as strong as everyone else. We work every single day as slaves. The only way out of that place is through death. If you choose to sit there with a fat wallet and look the other way, then you dishonor the badge. You dishonor everything you should stand for.”
I sat up in bed, the Count of Monte Cristo on my lap, the pages damp at the corners. The rain hit the window right next to me, and the hot coffee on my nightstand smelled the nutmeg and cinnamon. It was the middle of the day, but I had nowhere to go and nothing to do, so I never changed out of my pajamas.
My body had already started to return to its previous weakness since I didn’t work all day anymore. My abs were slowly being covered with a layer of fat, and my breasts were getting bigger. I turned away from the book and looked out the window, seeing the raindrops hit the glass and drip down in quick rivers, only to be replaced by another drop.
My entire adventure might have felt like just a dream, but this book was a piece of my story, and the memory of the man who’d slept by my side in that very bed told me it was all real…every single moment.
Melanie appeared in the open doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest. “What happened to your book?”
I lifted it up, seeing the permanent stain on the corner of every page. “Dropped it.” I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell her the truth. It was between me and this story, between me and Magnus.
She looked out the window and stared at the rain.
I closed the book and stared at the cover, the title worn and faded, like it’d been in that camp for a long time, had belonged to another prisoner before they passed away. “I have to go back…”
Melanie turned back to me, her movements noticeable in my periphery.
I set the book on the nightstand and looked at her. “Bethany, Cindy…everyone else. I can’t just leave them there.”
“You went to the police, Raven. You did what you could.”
I shook my head. “It’s not enough…”
She sighed loudly. “You think you can go there alone and liberate the camp? By yourself.”
“I won’t be alone…” I continued my stare.
Her eyes fell when she understood.
“If we get caught, nothing will happen to you. The boss will protect you.”
“He will not—”
“I saw the way he looked at you. You’ll be safe.”
“And what about you?”
I held the book in my arms and pulled it to my chest. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t live knowing they’re there. I have to finish this, even if it costs my life.”
“Raven—”
“I have to.”
She turned quiet. “We don’t even know where it is.”
“We’ll find it.”
“How are we going to liberate an entire camp?”
“I’ll come up with a plan.”
“And what about Magnus?”
I squeezed the book tighter. “We won’t hurt him.”
“But you’re coming back to destroy his camp, after everything he did for us.”
I felt guilty when I shouldn’t. His kindness didn’t erase his cruelty. “I know, but it doesn’t change anything. Every week that passes ends the life of someone innocent. Every week that passes results in new women taken from their homes and forced into servitude. Every week that we spend drinking coffee and eating cheese…is a week someone won’t survive. Bethany could be next, or one of your friends. We owe it to those women, to women everywhere, to try. And my loyalty is to them…not him.”