Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(92)

He was always, ‘my brother’ or ‘the facilitator,’ or as of recently, Uilleam just referred to him as her husband.

It was then she knew.

She knew.

“Tell me what you did,” she said, feeling like a fool as emotion clogged her throat.

Uilleam sighed, but there was no regret in his eyes as he pushed away from the table, tossing his napkin on the table. “It wasn’t what I did that matters, it’s what I didn’t do.”

“I swear to God, I’m not in the f*cking mood for your word games, Uilleam. Did you do this to me?” she demanded, pointing her knife in his direction.

She expected him to make an excuse, to continue with his word games until she grew too frustrated to continue.

The last thing she was expecting was his answer.

“Yes.”

All the fight drained out of her as horror took its place. “What?”

“You asked if I’m responsible for you being here, right now, wielding a knife—the answer is yes.” His words were unapologetic, blunt in the pain they delivered. “I had you taken from your home and brought to a warehouse—the one on 42nd and Hamilton.”

Luna realized almost belatedly that her hands were shaking, that she didn’t have a firm grip on the weapon she was already picturing plunging into his neck.

“How … why …” But she couldn’t think of the right question to ask.

Uilleam answered them both. “The how is rather simple. I sent a team to extract you. The why, however, is a bit more complicated.”

“Then make it uncomplicated!”

He sighed as he regarded her, as though he knew what he was saying would hurt her, but he would tell her anyway. “You were a job.”

I’m talking about a martyr—about a girl whose life was taken to give another power. The words whispered in her mind, but her brain still hadn’t caught up to what she thought she knew.

“A job,” she repeated, disbelieving. “I was a job … I don’t understand.”

Uilleam, a man that always seemed so sure of himself, hesitated. “Luna, leave this. The answer is unimportant.”

She lost it.

It only took two steps for her to get close enough to press the blade against his skin, digging just hard enough to draw blood.

“Speak.”

“About six years ago, your mother came to me—she wanted to have power, and all the money that came with it. Her idea was to run for local government. Carmen wasn’t doing it for the people, mind, she was doing it under the notion that she would get close with the cartels that worked with them. Morals, she had none, nor did she care what needed to be done to ensure that she got what she wanted.” Uilleam didn’t take his eyes from her as he spoke, nor did his tone soften as he delivered deadly words that she had begged him for. “But her vision was too narrow, she lacked the vision to know what she could become, so I made her an offer as I’ve done hundreds of others. I could give her power, for a price.”

“A price,” Luna echoed, feeling tears betraying her. Her arm had fallen to her side, the bead of blood she’d drawn sliding down his throat.

He made no move to wipe it away, nor did he make a move to retaliate.

They just stood there.

“The masses, you see, they love a victim. They can relate to one because they’ve all felt the pain of losing someone they love—and a woman advocating for change once she loses her daughter to vicious human traffickers? A prime candidate. You were the price she had to pay.”

Luna wanted to take it back.

She wanted to erase going to Belladonna’s offices entirely. She wanted to pretend like none of it had happened.

Because this—this crushed her in a way that Lawrence had never been able.

Her mother.

The one person in the world that was supposed to love and protect her had …

She was going to vomit.

But a sudden thought hit her. “Then why did you buy me?” she asked.

It didn’t make sense. If he had ensured she was out of the way and her mother could do as she pleased, why had he bought her from Lawrence?

Uilleam sighed. “My intention had always been to use you against your mother. While she plays checkers, I play chess. I’d wagered she would make it just far enough that I could make back my investment by using you as leverage.”

Beautiful girl, she was, made into a pawn in a game she didn’t know she was playing.

Belladonna had told her everything.

Luna gave a bitter laugh, a tear spilling over. “How? By showing her that you made her daughter into a whore? You’re proud of that? She didn’t even care!”

It felt like she was dying with every breath she took, the agony of it all bearing down on her shoulders.

“You’re not a whore—you never were,” Uilleam returned viciously, as though he hated the very idea. “Things didn’t go as I intended.”

“But you told them to give me to the first buyer—whoever would pay the most,” Luna said, remembering the goons that had grabbed her and their conversation.

They hadn’t thought she was paying attention to what they were saying. They didn’t realize she was crying because of how callous they sounded as they discussed her life like it was theirs to destroy.

There was a split second of confusion on his face before he masked it.