Page 54 of Billionaire's Sins
Yet, even this far into the narrative, self-preservation kicks in and they try their best to wriggle out of it, to place the blame elsewhere.
"This stranger," I prompt him. "What did he want from you?"
"When I finally tracked down my dealer, he was waiting for me."
"Who?" I query. "The dealer?"
"The man," he snaps. "Are you following me, Father?"
I twist my lips. "I am right there with you."
"He was well-dressed, in an expensive suit, sunglasses, a hat... Looked like something out of a Mafia film."
My heart begins to thud. Sweat beads my temple. "Is that what he was? The Mafia?"
"So, I found out later." He swallows. "He wanted me to get information on some boys."
My pulse thuds at my temples. "What kind of information?"
"About their daily routines. How they got to school every day, where they went to football practice, what else they did in the afterschool hours."
"So, you did it?"
"Yeah." I sense him nod. "I got him all the information he wanted."
"And he rewarded you?"
"For my sins?" he says quietly. "Asshole, gave me drugs and kept doing so for the next... I don’t know, many years. They made me dependent on them. I ended up being reliant on them for my next fix, something they exploited, in every way possible."
"And do you still work for them?" I keep my voice even.
"What do you think?" He laughs bitterly, "Once you've interacted with them, they never let you go."
I rub at the pain that stabs at my chest. What the hell am I doing, encouraging him to speak? I should ask him to shut up. I should get the hell out of here, before I do something I’ll regret. I lock my fingers together, tuck my elbows into my sides.
"And the boys on whom you reported. What about them?"
He stays silent.
"You’ve come this far. Get it all off your chest. Pour out all the worries inside of you to make space for the Holy Spirit." I narrow my gaze on the screen and what I can see of his profile.Go on, you asshole, confirm to me what I already know. Do it already. Give me the chance to get even for everything that happened to me and my friends. Say it. Do it.
"The b-boys," he stutters, "the...they were kidnapped."
My heart stops, then picks up speed and slams into my chest. The blood thuds at my temples. My palms grow clammy and I flex my fingers.
"What school?" I force myself to say the words, "Which school did these boys attend?"
He draws in another breath, seems to hesitate.
"Get out everything, my son," I prompt him. "Every last memory associated with what happened. Lay it all out, so you can make a fresh start.
He swallows, moves around again, then finally lets out a sigh. "St. Lucian’s," he mumbles.
I freeze. "St. Lucian’s?"
So, he definitely is talking about me and rest of the Seven. Not that there had been any doubt in my mind. Too much of what he’d told me matched what had happened to us. But I had to be completely sure.
"Only the most exclusive private school in the country," he scoffs. "You wouldn’t think kids from such an exclusive school would be involved in something like that, would you?"
