Page 25

We step inside an elevator. He presses the button for the third floor, but the elevator plunges down instead. A few seconds pass. We’re still moving down.

“What if someone actually wanted to go to the third floor?” I ask Alaric.

“There is no third floor,” Alaric says. “And someone who’s not here for the Resistance meeting wouldn’t even be able to enter the elevator.”

He points at the tiny pinhole camera above the elevator doors. We’re being watched.

I glance at my watch. We’ve been in this elevator for almost two minutes now.

The doors finally open, revealing a parking lot that could only be described as a motorhead’s wet dream. It’s filled with top-of-the-range Ferraris, limited edition Aston Martins, and vintage Rolls Royces.

“There’s a secret road in the city that leads directly to the parking lot,” Alaric explains.

“Why didn’t we take it?”

“Because you kept saying we were being followed,” he says. “I didn’t want to risk it in case you were right.”

We enter another elevator. This one isn’t subtle at all with the security measures. After scanning our IDs and invitations, we’re made to stand in front of a retina scanner.

Once the security measures are complete, the elevator doors close.

We plunge into the earth once more. It’s another full minute before the doors open to reveal the actual location of the meeting.

It’s a pristine open space located a couple of thousand feet underneath the dingy bar. Dark wooden paneling lines the walls, and golden chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm glow on everybody below. Men and women are standing in groups. The air hums with quiet conversation.

Subconsciously, I find myself searching for a certain scent—cupcakes. Lately, the sweet aroma seems to follow me no matter where I go.

But I don’t smell her scent here.

The most likely explanation is that she wears a popular woman’s perfume. Or maybe it’s just her skin, the scent so embedded in her pores that it’s become a part of her now. I can’t count the number of times I wanted to bury my face against her neck to see for myself.

“Dude, snap out of it,” Alaric hisses from beside me. “You look like a serial killer about to go on a rampage.”

“Where do we sit?” I ask him.

“We don’t sit yet,” he says. “We have so many people to say hi to first.”

“Nope,” I say, walking away from him before he can pull me into unwanted conversations like he always does. I’m really not in the mood for small talk tonight.

There’s a giant circular table in the center of the hall. I find the spot with my name on it and sit down.

I check my phone. There are signal blockers in here, so I don’t have access to the internet. But I do have access to the pre-downloaded videos from my home’s security feed.

I scroll through the various cameras until I find the one I want.

It’s the clip from ten minutes ago.

Emma fills my screen. She’s lying on her side wearing a silver slip dress. Her dark hair tumbles out on the pillow as she stares out of the window. I wish there was a device that could let me read the thoughts in her head.

This obsession has taken root inside me, and it’s only growing stronger by the day. I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.

When I was younger, I made a promise to myself that I would never let a woman rule my world.

But the second this girl entered my life, I knew everything was about to change. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Emma sighs and rolls over so she’s on her back.

I switch to a different camera. My breathing turns erratic when I see the way her full tits spill out of the silk lingerie.

I can see a hint of her rosy nipples. I want to close my lips around those hard buds.

I want to roll my tongue around them and see if she tastes as sweet as she looks.

“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Alaric says, sitting beside me.

“It’s none of your business.” I put my phone away. I notice that other people are taking their seats as well.

“It’s too much,” he says. “Even for you.”

“You saw nothing,” I say.

“I wish I saw nothing,” he mutters. “But really, man? How can your conscience allow you to place cameras in her bedroom? That’s wrong on so many levels.”

“After what happened the last time, I didn’t want to take any chances,” I say.

“That’s why we used the agency and did all those background checks this time. You don’t need to do all that.” He gestures to my phone.

I remain quiet.

“You know she can sue you if she finds those cameras. It’s not cool,” he says.

“She won’t find them,” I say.

“Yes, because you’re going to remove them when you return home,” he instructs. “Right?”

“Fine,” I growl.

I don’t like the idea of not keeping tabs on her.

She awakened an animal instinct in me. The beast in me is only concerned about staking his claim on the girl, no matter what that looks like. This possessiveness over her feels normal.

Alaric pats my back. “I believe in you. You have what it takes to be a decent man.”

A hush falls over the room as Alexander Radcliffe, head of the Dark Web division, stands up.

There’s a haunted look in his eyes as he looks at everyone in attendance. These are eyes that have seen too much. They’ve seen what hell on earth looks like. As the head of the Dark Web division, he works with his team to investigate the kind of sinister crimes that end up on the dark web.

“Let’s begin,” he says, his weathered voice calm but commanding.

“First, I want to thank you all for making it here on such short notice. We don’t call meetings like this unless it’s absolutely necessary, and this is one of those times.

My team has uncovered information that demands our full attention—something that requires all hands on deck. It’s an international problem.”

The screen behind him comes to life. It’s a global map that’s glowing with scattered red dots. It’s a sinister map of hidden servers and encrypted paths.

“It’s worse than we thought,” Alexander says. “We’ve uncovered a network operating deep within the dark web. They’re trafficking and distributing…videos. Exploitation of children, some as young as five.”

Everyone sits up straighter in their chairs.

“I assume you’ve already tried tracing this network?” Tracey Hughes, the head of the Narcotics division, asks.

Alexander nods. “We’ve traced payments through several shell companies, but the servers hosting these files are constantly moving. Whoever’s behind this is tech-savvy. They’re taking every precaution to make sure that they remain hidden.”

“Who’s funding this?” someone asks.

Alexander shakes his head. “All the transactions are through cryptocurrency, so it’s nearly impossible to trace. This is why we need to leverage all of our resources to work on this. It’s not just about taking down a few servers; we need to dismantle the entire operation.”

There’s a chorus of agreement from around the table.

Cases like these are the very reason the Resistance was born. It’s to protect humanity against the evils of the world. These wealthy, influential people hold power and know how to use it well.

“I can’t imagine how sick someone has to be to hurt children like this,” Alaric says from beside me.

I nod, silently agreeing with him.

The leaders of the divisions spend the next two hours coming up with an action plan. The tech team plays a vital role, but there’s also a plan to figure out if a new criminal syndicate is behind this.

By the end of the discussion, my entire body is filled with unadulterated disgust.

The meeting is followed by food and drink, but nobody has much of an appetite left after the things we’ve just learned. I stand beside Alaric as he greets a few people.

When we’re alone, Alaric glances over at me. “We’ll hit the gym later?”

I nod, beyond grateful that I don’t have to say a word for him to understand me. He always knows the right thing to say.

“Can we leave now?” I ask. It’s been a long fucking day. I know sleep won’t come to me until I release these pent-up emotions.

“I just made eye contact with the Winslows,” he says, waving at a famous British actress and her husband.

“My social battery is drained,” I say. “I’ll be in the car. Don’t make me wait too long.”

Before he can protest, I walk away from him.

I didn’t always have social anxiety. During our college days, Alaric and I used to throw parties that would last all weekend. We invited everyone we knew, and I never felt the need to escape from all the noise.

But everything can change in the blink of an eye.

A crowded room now feels like a battlefield. Hidden danger lurks in every corner, and I’m responsible for keeping everyone alive. It takes too much mental energy to even exist at these big events.

Alaric tries to get me to talk about it, but I can never find the right words to explain.

Once I’m in the car, I turn my phone on. There are company emails and important updates from my team, but I go straight to the security cameras. I check on the kids first. They’re sound asleep in their beds.

Eventually, I switch to the feed of Emma’s bedroom.

She’s asleep in her bed now. The gentle rise and fall of her chest makes it easier for me to breathe. The frustration of the day melts from my body. For the first time tonight, I let myself relax.

She looks even more beautiful in her sleep.

I splay my fingers over the phone, wanting to brush away the loose curl that has fallen over her face.

I don’t understand why she has this effect on me. All I know is that I’m drawn to her. She gives me the kind of peace that my psychiatrists promised with pills.

But I’ll never let myself have her.

I’ll never sully her angelic aura with my darkness.