Page 62 of Ignite

“Oh, I got in,” Alaric says darkly. “Clever thinking on the tattoos. But, Cain? This shit… it’s next-level disturbing.”

For him to say that, after years of working at Sinro, brings a chill to my bones.

“Send it to me,” I order, already bracing for what I’m about to witness. Can’t be worse than what I’ve seen in this lifetime.

An email pops up on my computer. I click into it. My brows furrow at an archaic-looking snapshot of what appears to be a grocery list.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at. Explain.”

Keys pound in the background. “So, it looks like your standard list of non-important grocery items, right? But each item on the list is coded with details on where to pick up kids, Cain. It’s a shopping list for traffickers.”

My lungs compress. I hang up my desk phone to video chat Alaric instead, so I can watch him work through his screens at lightningspeeds.

He clicks on the first item: Milk $2.96 x 13. Seemingly harmless, but then he clicks on the picture of a milk carton, revealing additional information that has nothing to do with a grocery store:

Mika Williams

296 Lynsey Rd

13 years old

“Jesus,” I utter.

There’s a folder with images of the child, too. I squeeze my eyes shut, grateful when I hear him click out because some of those pictures had to have been taken by family members.

He moves on to the next item: Wine $24.09 x 10

Wade Henderson

2409 Winston Ct

10 years old

“Alaric. How many?” I force the words through my teeth.

“I’ve opened up thirteen different lists, all with over a hundred names. This list dates back fifteen years. This operation has been around for a while, Cain. There’s no way Gabriel’s been dealing in this shit for that long. We would have caught it. Someone else is pulling the strings. I think that someone gave Gabriel the drive and instructed him to start collecting.”

My vision swims with fury, blurring the screen in front of me. How could this have been going on so long in my city? We should have caught wind of this shit. Unless someone powerful was involved, helping with cover up.

“See if you can find any current records or names that haven’t been crossed off a list. We could use them to head Gabriel off.”

“I’ll do my best. I need a fucking raise after this shit,” Alaric mutters. “Or a gallon of bleach for my eyes.”

Both Alaric and Rev deserve raises. Honestly, all of my staff deserve more than monetary compensation. They’ve stared evil in the face and never once backed down from it.

Head spinning after my call with my brother, I can’t help but continue down the list, horrified by the amount of items crossed off. Kids taken from their lives, some willingly sold by the people they trusted most.

It tears my insides apart to think of the outcome for these kids, but I know the statistics. I know how many don’t survive. And the ones who do? Spend their lives in slavery or in prison or on the streets addicted to substances to help them forget.

My hand hovers over Lemons, brain snagging on the lack of listed price, just an Out of Stock x 8.

Leo James

185 Northwind Ct

8 years old

The break in the pattern has me clicking on the image. Instantly, I regret it. The revealed photos crush me because I recognize that face. Know those hazel eyes on an intimate level. His bone structure has sharpened, but it’s nearly impossible not to identify him.