Caris Roane - Chains of Darkness

Lucian didn’t care. “The day we set the worth of our society above the value of the individual is the day we’ve lost the right to survive as a species.”

“Lucian, as much as I want to believe that, we needed you here, doing what you’re doing now. I didn’t know what else to do. Adrien had to go underground to protect Lily and Josh. And you needed out of that hellhole. Daniel would have found a way to force you to do his bidding.”

“You had no right to do this.”

Claire felt so sick to her stomach that she struggled to hold down the meal she’d just eaten. Daniel had bought Zoey, and Rumy hadn’t told her something so critical that Lucian was actually yelling at him.

And though she’d asked if Zoey was still alive, something about Lucian’s outrage indicated that her friend was probably long dead.

She stared at the beige carpeting beneath her bare feet, working at taking in long deep breaths and trying to ease the constriction of her throat.

Lucian paced now, while Rumy sat like a schoolboy in trouble staring up at his teacher.

Claire spoke up. “I want to know everything.”

Lucian turned to her and nodded. He stopped next to his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, then turned to glare at Rumy. “Give her the statistics. All of them.”

“Fine.” Rumy met her gaze, but he’d never looked sadder. “The sex trafficking of humans in our world is brutal beyond description. I don’t allow anything like that in the clubs in my complex. There are organizations, like Starlin, that have built empires around trafficking, but everyone knows I disapprove of slavers of any kind. Everyone who works for me earns a decent wage.”

“I believe you, but I think you’re tiptoeing around the subject. What stats was Lucian talking about?”

Rumy drew a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “In the initial stage of captivity, a small percentage of humans, about fifteen percent, will not live beyond the two-week mark even if they’re treated well.”

Claire’s throat hurt. “And after two weeks?”

“A second transition occurs at six months, but the survival rate at that point drops to fifty percent.”

Claire tried to process what he was saying, but she kept stumbling over the 50 percent figure.

Half.

Half died at six months.

Had Zoey even made it to the six-month mark?

She stared at Rumy, her eyes narrowing all on their own; maybe if she squinted it would help her brain figure this out. “We’re talking about a diminishing chance of survival. So what happens after six months?”

Rumy grew very still. His tongue once more made a nervous appearance between the fang-tips then disappeared.

She looked at Lucian. He stared at her from beneath his heavy scowl and thick straight brows.

She felt it again, that weight in him, the heaviness he carried around in his soul that had more to do with the responsibility he felt toward his world than anything else.

He didn’t take his eyes off her as he said. “Tell her the rest, Rumy.”

She shifted to stare at Rumy once more.

He continued, “By the two-year mark, there’s only an eight percent chance she’s still alive.”

“Eight percent?”

“In a decent situation, eight.”

“And Daniel bought her.”

“Yes.”

Eight.

And Daniel was the one who’d killed his own son, Marius, in front of Lucian.

Once more, her stomach seized. She wasn’t even sure her heart beat any longer. It was one thing to not know; another to suspect the worst. But hearing a figure like “eight percent” shifted Claire’s perceptions of the situation. These were the hard facts, and given the solemnity that vibrated against her neck, the reflection of Lucian’s emotions in this moment, she knew Rumy was telling her the truth.

Lucian drew close to her and took her hand. “He should have told you, Claire.”

She stared up at Lucian, her heart heavy. He’d lost Marius today and maybe she’d lost Zoey, though she couldn’t be sure. Maybe she should be angry that Rumy hadn’t told her everything, but she wasn’t. She’d done a good thing, perhaps even a critical one in bringing Lucian safely to The Erotic Passage. If anyone had a chance of ending Daniel’s reign, Lucian did.

Rumy’s phone rang, and he stepped into the hall to answer it.

“I’m so sorry, Claire. This isn’t good news, and again I wish like hell that Rumy hadn’t used you the way he did.”

When Lucian let her hand go, she rose to her feet. “You know what? I’m fine with it. Because you’re safe and after what I saw Daniel do, Rumy’s right, your world needs you here right now.”

“I think that’s really generous of you.”

Rumy reentered the room, a slight frown on his brow.

Lucian glanced at him. “Anything we should know?”

Rumy still held his phone in hand. “I’ve got several calls to return, which is a good thing—one of them might actually be a lead that will pan out. As soon as I heard that Daniel was offering a reward, I alerted my network, asking for any information that might surface about the extinction weapon. Let me see what’s going on.”

He seemed to consider the situation, then addressed Claire. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

“It’s okay. I understand your reasoning, and I actually agree with you. Lucian is needed here. You did the right thing.”

Rumy held her gaze for a long moment, finally nodding several times in a row. “All right then.” He shifted to Lucian. “Listen, let me follow up on the leads. In the meantime, why don’t you show Claire the main part of the club.” He then slapped his pant pocket, dipping inside. He drew out two crimson tickets. “And Eve sent these along.”

Lucian glanced at them, scowling. “I’m not taking Claire to a sex show.”

Rumy shrugged. “You know Eve. She thinks everyone will love her stuff. But it might be a good thing to expose Claire to other parts of the Erotic Passage because who knows what will happen down the line. At least take her to see the band. Well, keep your phone handy.”

With that, he took off.

Claire stared at the tickets, then picked them up. They shimmered. “The Ruby Cave.” She glanced at Lucian. “Am I to understand that Rumy just suggested we go clubbing, then hit a sex show?” She didn’t know whether she was more appalled or amused. She decided it was the latter and laughed.

“You know, Rumy might be right, maybe not about Eve’s show, but let me ask you something. What’s it been like since Rumy brought you here?”

“Like being thrown into a giant washing machine during the agitation cycle.”

“That’s what I thought. So why don’t we do exactly what he said? Or at least the first part. The club does have a great band.”

“You’re serious. But what about the extinction weapon? We should be looking for Zoey.” She felt panicky, afraid that if she changed her focus for even a second, she’d miss a critical opportunity.

Lucian put his hand on her shoulder and gave a squeeze. “There’s nothing either of us can do right now. Rumy’s put out his feelers and he’ll get a hit back—you’ll see. Then we’ll move forward. In the meantime, he is right. We’ll both function better if we pace ourselves. This is going to be a tough process that will not resolve itself overnight.”

Claire allowed herself to relax into the moment. Her experience as a social worker, which involved managing frequent crises among her clients, kicked in. “You’re right. I need to let events unfold and I would like to see more of Rumy’s club.” She glanced down, looking at her pants. “Are jeans acceptable?”

Lucian smiled. “No. This isn’t exactly a casual atmosphere, but no worries.” He gestured to the rack near the dresser. “Rumy provided a wide array of attire.”