Wilder starts the engine, following the SUV down the access road.
"The girls," I say. "Where are you taking them?"
"Same thing as yesterday. Safe house," Reaper answers. "Doc's waiting. They'll get medical attention, food, clean clothes. Then they decide what they want to do."
"What options do they have?"
"Return home if they have one. New identities if they don't. Or..." he pauses. "Or they can work for us."
I turn to face him, searching his expression. "Work how?"
"Legitimate businesses. The club owns a diner, a garage, a couple of other places. We help people disappear when they need to."
"You really would do that for all of them?"
His eyes meet mine, gray and unflinching. "Someone did it for me once."
Before I can ask more, Naomi makes a muffled sound from the back, drawing my attention.
She stares at me with hatred, recognition dawning in her cold eyes. She was always the worst. The one who would slap us for crying, who would describe in vivid detail what awaited us if we didn't cooperate. Who seemed to enjoy our fear more than the men did.
I turn in my seat to face her fully. "Remember me? The one you said was too damaged to be worth much?" I let my lips curve into a smile I don't feel. "Look who's tied up now."
Reaper says nothing, but I feel his attention on me, assessing.
Naomi tries to speak through her gag, her eyes promising retribution. I laugh, the sound hollow even to my own ears.
"Save your threats. You're the merchandise now."
"Evelyn," Reaper's voice is low, a warning I don't want to heed.
I turn back around, my heart pounding with emotions I can't name. Anger. Triumph. Fear. A dangerous cocktail that makes me reckless.
"Are you going to kill her?" I ask.
"Questioning first," he answers, his tone neutral. "We need information about their operation, their contacts, their supply chains."
"And after?"
"That depends on what she tells us."
I understand the implication. She'll die if she’s not useful. I should be disturbed by this casual approach to murder, but I'm not. Not after what she has done.
"I want to be there," I say. "When you question her."
Reaper exchanges a glance with Wilder.
"That's not a good idea," he says finally.
"Why? Afraid I'll see the monster behind the rescuer?" The words come out sharper than intended.
His expression doesn't change, but something flickers in his eyes. "No. Afraid you'll become something you'll regret."
The insight stuns me into silence. He's not protecting me from him; he's protecting me from myself. From the darkness he recognizes because he carries it too.
We ride in silence for several minutes, the tension thick enough to touch. Finally, I speak again, my voice quieter.
"I need to face her. To show her she didn't break me."
