CHAPTER 87: THE INTERROGATION...

Slater

I watched as the empty coffee cup hit the inside of the trash can with a dull thunk.

The noise was nothing compared to the thumping bass pulsing from the Red Rouge club’s thick glass walls. I exhaled slowly, sighing for the hundredth time that night as I adjusted myself against the rear of Trish Canary’s car.

It was well past midnight, and Trish still hadn’t come out.

I was tired physically, mentally and emotionally, but this was important too. I’d returned the pills just like Jex had advised, slipping them back into the hollow book in the book section I’d taken it from.

I was still waiting to hear back from the lab about what kind of substances those pills contained. So, while that was still pending, I needed answers.

Now that I knew that my sister Riley was still alive, I desperately needed to understand why she had to go into hiding after escaping. There was no way Riley would cut herself off entirely from her family without a compelling reason.

She hadn’t even tried to contact anyone to inform us that she was fine, and she wasn’t the type to stay quiet. Not unless something or someone was forcing her to.

I pulled my cap lower over my brow and tapped the face of my phone again, watching the minutes crawl past 1:00 a.m.

A few minutes after 1 a.m., the club doors finally opened and a group of girls stumbled out in slinky dresses, heels and glitter, laughing loud enough to wake the dead. They supported each other as they navigated the steps in their high heels.

I scanned the group until I spotted Trish. She was the blonde, wearing an expensive designer dress with one arm around a friend’s shoulder while the other clutched her phone. She was staring down at the screen while talking animatedly to her friends, gesturing with her free hand in the way that drunk people do.

I adjusted my jacket and walked forward, holding my phone as if I were checking a rideshare notification.

"Trish Canary?" I asked, looking up from my phone and scanning the face of the women as if I didn’t know who she was.

The fake moustache I’d applied earlier had transformed my appearance, and I was confident that even a sober Trish wouldn’t recognise me, let alone one who was intoxicated.

Earlier that evening, I’d tipped the security guard at the entrance of the upscale estate where her penthouse was located. The man had been more than happy to provide information in exchange for cash.

Trish went clubbing every day.

Every day of the week, she attends a different club. For today, which was Wednesday, her location was Red Rouge, a high-end club in Ravenspire. After she parties through the night, one hour before she leaves, a designated driver from Rex Taxi company would arrive to take her home.

Obtaining a Rex driver uniform and ID had cost me a fortune, and ensuring Trish’s call to the company was intercepted and redirected to my phone instead had required additional, expensive technical assistance. However, I didn’t mind the cost; this was my only opportunity to get close to her without raising suspicion.

She looked up at me, squinting her eyes as if trying to focus, and smiled, then waved her hand dismissively at her friends.

"That’s me," she said, tossing her hair backwards with a flourish. "You’re the first handsome driver I’ve ever been paired with. How are you, darling?"

Her friends giggled, but I only laughed as I gave her a non-committal smile and gently collected her swinging handbag from her unsteady grip.

"Let’s get you home, Ma’am," I said, taking her from her friends and supporting her as we walked towards her car.

"Oh, aren’t you sweet?" she cooed, leaning into me like a cat rubbing against a warm lap. "You’re tall, you know that? I like tall men. I bet you’re really strong too."

I helped her into the passenger seat and drove out of the club’s parking lot.

"You know, you are quite attractive," she rambled, staring at me. "I don’t notice drivers, but you’ve got these strong hands and such a nice jawline. Are you single?"

I kept my eyes on the road, ignoring her completely.

"I used to be someone, you know?" she slurred, leaning her head against the window. "I had dreams. Dance. Music. Thought I’d open a studio. But dreams don’t pay bills... not when your father is a greedy Delta and sells you off to a politics-obsessed cousin."

I kept driving, giving her zero insinuations that I was listening to her.

"I did what I had to do," she continued. "I made the right connections. Flirted with the right men. Kept secrets for the wrong ones." She hiccuped. "Goddess, I hate Wednesdays. I always end up crying or puking."

"You’re not crying," I said quietly, meeting her gaze in the back seat.

"Yet," she replied, chuckling. "I’m so lonely, you know. People think that because I have money and a nice apartment, I must be happy, but it’s not true. I wake up every morning and wish I could go back to being the person I was before...before everything changed."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Sometimes, I wish I’d never taken that job at Ebonvale. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve had to do... I have so much blood on my hands now. So much guilt."

She laughed bitterly. "But the money’s too good to walk away from. Once you’re in, you’re in for life. There’s no going back to being innocent."

My grip tightened on the wheel as I continued to drive. When we arrived at her penthouse complex, I spent several minutes in the car, disabling the security cameras in the lobby and elevator. I knew they would come back online automatically after five minutes, so I had to work quickly.

Trish was half-asleep when I lifted her from the car, murmuring something about my chest being ’the perfect pillow’. I keyed open the door to the penthouse using her key card, then carried her inside. Once inside, I laid her gently on the couch.

I was struck by the opulence of her living space. Expensive artwork filled every space in the room, complemented by designer furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows with a beautiful view of Ravenspire.

She rolled onto her side and mumbled. "Don’t go yet..." Then something else about loneliness and regret.

I ignored her.

Moving to her kitchen, I prepared a strong coffee mixture designed to help her sober up more quickly. I returned with a cup of the drink and nudged her shoulder.

"Drink this."

She obeyed, taking the cup and giving me a sleepy smile. "If I die, at least it was in the arms of a handsome stranger..."

Once she drank the liquid and dozed off, I pulled a pair of silver-threaded cuffs from my pocket. I brought a lounge chair into the centre of the room and placed her on it. Then I secured her hands behind the metal arms of the chair, reinforcing the cuffs with binding seals.

Then I settled into the chair opposite her, waiting for her to come around.

While I waited, I searched the house but found nothing tangible. She was smart enough to keep anything implicating in the house, but there were hidden cameras everywhere. I counted up to eight cams in the living room alone. She must truly live in fear.

Two hours later, she finally stirred.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly. She tried to stretch but froze as she realised she couldn’t move. Her wrists strained against the cuffs.

"Wh-what the hell?" she whispered.

I turned her chair to face me. I still wore the moustache.

"Rex driver?" Her eyes widened in recognition. "What do you want? Why do you have me in cuffs? Who sent you?"

She was already shaking with fear as she moved her body around the restraints.

"Whoever sent you, I have nothing else to say. If anything happens to me, there are instructions to release the file. Don’t fuck with me, you know I don’t bluff."

I didn’t answer her.

From my coat pocket, I pulled a syringe and filled it with clear liquid.

"What is that?" Her voice shook with fear. "Please, don’t kill me. I-I can give you money. Anything, but please..." she cried.

I stepped closer and jammed the syringe into her upper thigh.

She screamed out in fear rather than out of pain. "W-Wha did you just do? What did you give me?"

I smiled coldly and settled back in my chair, raising the now-empty syringe like a trophy.

"That, Trish, is a Tenebrex-47."

She swallowed. "What the hell is that?"

"It’s a concentrated compound derived from the purest form of wolfsbane extract and venomous manticore secretion," I said calmly. "They’re extremely rare insects and illegal in fifty-seven werewolf packs."

Her pupils dilated in terror.

"You have forty-five minutes before your respiratory system begins to shut down," he continued. "Sixty before full paralysis. Seventy before cardiac arrest."

"You’re lying."

I held up a vial of glittering green liquid. "This," I said, "is the antidote. It’s One-of-a-kind and the rarest thing you can ever find. It’s costly. And unless I’m satisfied with your answers, you’re not getting it."

She yelled, straining against her bind. "What did I ever do to you? I thought we reached an agreement."

"I think you’re mistaken, Trish," I said quietly. "I didn’t come here from Ravenshore or Ebonvale..."

"What?" she whimpered. "Who are you?"

I reached up and tore the moustache from my face.

Her mouth fell open.

"Riggs?"

"That’s me," I smiled. "So, Trish Canary, are you ready to talk?"