Page 13 of Dark Rebel's Mystery

Max stifled a chuckle. The poor fool had no idea what he was up against. Toven's compulsion made it impossible to resist answering direct questions, especially ones that required a simple yes or no. They didn't allow for evasions or clever comebacks, only compliance.

"What is your real name, Don?" Toven asked in the same calm and measured tone.

The prisoner's eyes widened, pupils constricting as he realized that there was no fighting the god. He was forced to give up the truth, and the tension in his jaw spoke volumes. "Do…Dondish," he spat out as though the name itself were a betrayal.

"That's more like it," Toven said, his expression still cool, with just a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "What's your cellmate's real name?"

"Noxmore," Dondish said, darting an uneasy glance at the other prisoner.

The Doomer who called himself Nox shifted but remained silent.

After all, Toven had addressed the question to Dondish, so Nox couldn't have answered even if he'd wanted to. He was just as susceptible to compulsion as the other dirtbag.

Toven nodded. "Very well, Dondish. I have several questions for you, and you will answer them truthfully and completely."

"Who are you?" Dondish asked, a slight tremor betraying the anger bubbling beneath his forced compliance. His voice sounded raspy like he was choking on his own bitterness.

"Who do you think I am?" Toven countered with a question instead of answering.

The Doomer's lip curled. "An immortal," he said, almost spitting the word. "Like the others. One of the betrayer's descendants."

That was new. Had Navuh spun a new tale about Annani where she was cast as the betrayer? Who had she betrayed? Mortdh? Or had Navuh told his followers that Annani had been responsible for obliterating the gods' assembly?

Max wouldn't be surprised if that was precisely the story Navuh was spinning. He and his followers were experts in inverting the truth, turning victims into oppressors and perpetrators into victims.

It was infuriating, and Max had no doubt that each of the males sitting on his side of the bars was seething with anger.

But Toven kept his outward calm demeanor. "My name is Tom," he said, ignoring the Doomer's sneer. "And you don't need to know who I descend from. What I do need is for you to tell me about the Brotherhood's pedophilia network—how it works, who is involved, and what purpose it serves. Let's start with my first question. Tell me about the network."

Dondish's face contorted with the effort to resist, his features tightening as if he were physically straining against a heavy weight or battling constipation. For an instant Max thoughtthe man might pass out, shit his pants, or start frothing at the mouth. But Toven's compulsion was potent, and the words started pouring out of Dondish like a poison-laced confession.

As the Doomer described the network of corruption the Brotherhood had been building, he sounded furious and terrified at the same time, though Max wasn't sure what he feared more, Toven and Kian or his own leader's wrath.

Listening to every vile detail was like having nails scraped across Max's soul.

He tried to keep his face neutral, but his stomach churned at the things these monsters had done. The way they used vulnerable children, the perverse clients they catered to, the hush money that changed hands—every revelation was an additional layer of filth.

"Interesting," Toven said, his voice as measured and as detached as a physician's diagnosing an injury. He directed his gaze to the other Doomer. "Who benefits most from the intelligence you gather, Nox?"

Noxmore straightened, his cheeks twitching as he tried to fight the compulsion forcing him to speak. "Our leader ensures the information reaches those who can best use it to guide policy," he said, the words sounding by rote as if recited from memory.

"And what are those policies designed to achieve?" Toven asked, leaning forward, his gaze boring into the Doomer like a drill.

Whatever inner struggle Noxmore was waging must have come to a halt because the floodgates opened. With surprising clarity, he described how they used blackmail to influence legislation, promote destructive social policies, redirect resources away from the military and law enforcement, and funnel funding intoorganizations that sowed further destabilization. He detailed, in almost proud terms, the carefully orchestrated attack on society at its moral and institutional core.

"Destabilization through moral decay," he added, as though reciting a mantra. Perhaps the compulsion was forcing him to volunteer more than was asked, or maybe he took twisted pride in the Brotherhood's clever program. "Create chaos, erode trust in institutions, turn people against each other. When the economic empires fall, wars will erupt all over the globe, accelerating the decline of the world's population. Then, when everything lies in ruin, Earth will be ripe for enslavement by the Brotherhood. We will conquer without having to wage war. All of those who are in power today will grovel at our feet and beg us to step in and save them from their own stupidity."

A tense hush fell, and Max could feel the coiled energy in the room ready to spring. He slanted a glance at Kian, whose fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white. Kian's jaw muscle twitched, and even though Max couldn't see his eyes from where he sat, he was sure that Kian's eyes were blazing with the same anger that was boiling Max's blood.

They had all assumed that Navuh was busy building a smarter army of Doomers with his new breeding program to achieve that objective, but it turned out they had underestimated him. Policy manipulation and infiltration to strike at the heart of established governments and communities had always been part of his modus operandi, but before, his methods had been less vile and more obvious.

The Doomers' island was one big trap for men of influence, where pictures and videos of them in compromising situations were taken and later used for blackmail. It hadn't been the only tactic he used, though. His army of mercenary immortals hadbeen great at starting regional wars and ensuring victory for Navuh's protégés.

Evidently, though, Navuh had discovered a much simpler, more insidious path to achieving his goals—one that didn't require an army to storm battlefields or mount large-scale attacks, nor did it require luring influential men to the island. He'd found a way to rot and collapse those who thought of themselves as advanced societies from within.

"How long has this operation been going?" Toven asked.

"About six years," Dondish said flatly. His throat bobbed in a hard swallow as if speaking the words tasted bitter. "It started slow, and at first, our leader was not enthusiastic about this operation, but once he realized how effective it was, he gave it his full support."

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