Sanctum (Sacred Series Book 1)

by K. Michelle

  “He’s a part of a very powerful company and started training Evan and me when we were young.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad. Family business and all.”

  I stare at her. “Let me finish, Little One.” She rolls her eyes, and I pause, contemplating how I want to say this, but it’s best to tell it like it is. “He taught me how to torture people, Dessa. He stole my innocence and my childhood at a young age, just so I could become a tool for him to use. I’ve done things you’d find despicable, and you know what?” I chuckle and look down at my hands, picking at the skin on my palms. “I don’t feel bad about it, Dessa. What does that make me? A man that doesn’t have remorse for torturing someone for information. Doing everything necessary except killing them. He, at least, had the decency to have someone else for that job, God forbid I have the guilt of murder on my conscience,” I scoff. “He’s had one purpose for me my whole life, and it wasn’t to bring up a son he’d love. It was to mold me into something useful so he can get what he wants. The name Cohen, it literally means priest. He was the one who started that stupid fucking nickname with the idea I would bring people to justice under his standards.” I chew the inside of my lip, waiting for her response.

  She turns her body towards me, her eyes looking nowhere else but mine. “You know, I don’t feel bad for you, like you don’t feel bad for me. You also don’t scare me because I know you. You’re surviving in the way that you know how, just like I did. Like I am. But I know you, and you’re up to something, and that’s why I’m here.” Her words are taunting.

  I’m on her within seconds of her response. My fingers grip her neck, and her skin flames red, begging for release to breathe. My lips pull in a snarl. “Not scared of me, Little One? That’s really fucking stupid because I could snap your neck right now. The fragile vertebrae torn right apart like a piece of paper, and I wouldn’t even blink an eye.” Her response pissed me off because she couldn’t have given a better one, and she also couldn’t be any more stupid. She needs to know how serious this is. How serious I am.

  “What are you waiting for?” Her words strain from my grip.

  “The right reason, I guess. Consider this a warning, Little One. If we’re so alike, then I know you’d do anything and screw anyone over to find answers. If you fuck me over, just remember I’ll fuck you ten times harder.”

  With my palm against her neck, Dessa tries to swallow the lump in her throat, eyes flaming, and her skin turning a beautiful shade of pink. Her plush lips open, breathing short and quick breaths onto mine. Our eyes don’t stray away from each other. They couldn’t if they wanted to.

  “Every puzzle piece of you was designed to fit mine, Dessa. Some pieces of you may fit with another man, but you’ll never be whole unless it’s with me. But you know that already, don’t you?”

  Just as she’s about to speak, my phone rings, and I already know who it is.

  “This better be good, Evan.” My hand is still on her throat, my body on hers.

  “What? The fact that Sanctum is a whole lot fucking deeper than we ever knew about? Yeah. This is fucking good, dick,” Evan mutters.

  I pull away from Dessa, gripping the phone closer to my ear. “Talk.”

  “We’re dealing with a whole new bird. Think big fucking chicken. Turkey even.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I rub my forehead. He’s already giving me a headache.

  “I was digging up information on a third-party client who I’d never heard of. Small-time stuff that’s very regular, bank accounts, names, the reg. Well, something about the numbers and dates stuck out to me. Call it lucky intuition because I dug deeper into the deposits to an account labeled Sanctorum, which seemed a little odd. So, I went a little further.” He pauses and takes a deep breath.

  “What is it, Ev?”

  “It’s a sex ring—a huge one. I’m talking kidnapping, auctioning, everything. They log in online and bid each other for these girls. I wanted to throw up, Cohen. The fact I’m associated with anything remotely close to this pisses me the fuck off.”

  “And you’re positive it’s Sanctum?”

  “Yeah, man. I went in between the layers, and Sanctum is there, with Henry’s name and everything, tied with a pretty red bow.”

  “Holy fuck.”

  “That’s what I said. You need to keep your eyes glued to Dessa. If they have pictures of her, who knows what they’re planning.”

  “How soon can you get over here?”

  “Already on my way.”

  I hang up the phone, grip it deathly tight in my hand, and close my eyes, taking a slow breath to calm my raging heart. This just got so much bigger than my mom and the pictures of Dessa. I need to sort this information and figure out where to start. All arrows point to the stack of files still in my living room.

  “You look like you want to punch a kitten. Or even that cute little baby Yoda.”

  I look over at Dessa, who has yet another piece of sushi shoved into her mouth.

  “You’re not far off.” I run my hands down my face, feeling like I’m walking into a war I know nothing about. I turn and look at the beautiful creature stuffing her face full of sushi in my living room. How she’s still eating is impressive. “Still willing to help go through these bad boys? And before you answer, heed my warning, Little One.”

  She rubs her hands together with an evil smile on her face. “What am I looking for?”

  “Three things. Anything to do with my mom, a sex ring, and then you.”

  That combination makes her choke on air, and she coughs, pounding on her chest and reaching for her water to wash down the shock. “I’m sorry, what was that last one?” Her face pinches into a snarl, automatically on the defense. “I know you didn’t say me.”

  “I sure did.”

  Her eyes widen. “Are you going to explain … or do I need to beat it out of you?”

  I chuckle through a heavy chest and take a deep breath of air. “Short and simple because I don’t want to rehash all this shit.” I take a seat on the floor in front of the pile of papers, annoyance seeping into my body from this whole situation. “One, I think Henry is responsible for my mom’s death. Two, we found pictures of you at USC in Sanctum’s files. Three, Evan just found a sex ring right under our fingertips.”

  “I have so many questions.”

  “I’m sure you do, as do I.”

  She blindsides me with a jab right into the side of my neck.

  “The fuck was that for?!”

  “That was for not telling me your crazy ass company had pictures of me!”

  “Why do you think I’ve been following you like a damn puppy?”

  “How am I supposed to know that?” she says, a little calmer. Her face transforms into determination before she crawls towards me, confident glare back in place. Those eyes. Those fucking ocean eyes that drown me in every emotion, are pinning me in place. “But if you try and hide your agenda from me again? I don’t care who you are or what they call you, or even if your intentions are good, I will fuck you up, Cohen.”

  Let the record show I tried. I tried so damn hard at keeping the laughter back, but I couldn’t. This gorgeous girl, who I could break like a toothpick if I wanted to, threatening to fuck me up will be my favorite new memory. And judging by the look on her face, my laughter has pissed my little rebel off.

  “Sorry, I’m sorry,” my hands go up in defense, “that was adorable, is all.”

  “Whatever. You’re on probation. No touching. No talking. Don’t even look at me. Your face is even pissing me off.” She scuffles through paperwork, and I chuckle to myself and roll my eyes before joining her.

  Evan comes through the door shortly after, and I pull him aside to the dining room. “How big is the ring? What’s going on with it?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s big. They have viewers internationally, man. Once we dig deeper, we might need to expand our team, if you know what I mean.”

  I groan and pull my hair. Evan want
s me to call Aidan, who has a few guys we use when we need more manpower. But I hate involving him, mainly because Aidan’s a prick, and it takes everything in me not to dropkick him every time our paths cross.

  “You’re right. Let’s sort through what we have and go from there.” He pats my back as we head back into the living room to help Dessa.

  What the hell are we getting into?

  This is insane. Insanity. Bat. Shit. Crazy. My life is insane enough as it is, why am I signing up for this? Plus, nothing pisses me off more than lies out of Cohen’s mouth. The bastard. I’m fuming at the audacity. Had I not even come over tonight, who knows if he would’ve told me about the pictures? About his mom? About a sex ring? A sex ring. My heavy heart lodges in my throat at the weight of this situation. Do I honestly want to know? Do I really need to help deal with this on top of finding my sister? Would I rather expect an attack or just be surprised and kiss my miserable life goodbye? I purse my lips in consideration. I’m no bitch. I save myself. That’s how it’s always been.

  When Evan walked in, he and Cohen went into another room. I hurry my ass through some of these files and look for my name specifically. My heart pounds in my ears as I scan through the papers. I set a couple aside that has his mom's name on them, and then, in the middle of all this mess, something stands out. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. In my hands is a folder with my initials on it. I peek through it with furrowed brows. My birth certificate, social security number, everything about me, is in here. Documents my mom never even kept track of. I grab my bag from the side of the couch and shove the folder inside. My cheeks are hot, and my hands are shaking. After zipping my bag closed, I set it to the side and sit back, pretending to look through more files as the boys walk in.

  “Hey, Dessa.” Evan half-smiles at me. He looks tired, which says something because Evan is the guy everybody loves. He’s always smiling, cracking jokes, and never tired, so it’s weird to see him so melancholy.

  “Hey, Ev,” I say with a lift of my head.

  “Sorry we took so long. Find anything?” Cohen speaks up.

  “Actually, I did.” I sure did. “I found a couple of things with your mom’s name on it.”

  Cohen’s head snaps up to me. I hand over the papers and he scans them immediately. Once he gets to the bottom of the pile, his face transforms into a look I’ve not seen before, and I’ve seen him livid. His jaw is pumping, and I’m pretty sure the veins in his forehead will explode if he gets any more upset.

  “DAMMIT!” It’s like the flip of a switch, and the demon he keeps simmering has boiled over. He grabs a barstool from the island and throws it across the room, knocking several things over and leaving a hole in the wall. He paces back and forth, fists balling, and spit spewing from his lips.

  “Jesus, Cohen. What?” Evan apparently isn’t in the mood for dramatics tonight, and here I am, watching this weird as hell evening unfold in front of me. You could cut the tension in this room like butter. Sitting here, my eyes move between Cohen and Evan repeatedly. Cohen hands the papers to Evan, grabs his coat and keys, and walks out the door. Now, I’m sitting in his living room with Evan Costa, and this is officially the weirdest evening I’ve had in a long time.

  My eyes turn to Evan’s, waiting for some sort of explanation, but all he mutters is the word, “Shit.”

  I point my finger to the papers in his hand. “So, I take it whatever is in that folder explains what just happened.”

  “Yeah, Dessa. It does.” He takes a deep breath, chewing on his lips, his head slightly shaking in disbelief. “This seals every suspicion we’ve had.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His brown eyes snap to mine. “Henry had Sanctum kill Cohen’s mom.”

  My eyes widen. “What?”

  “Sanctum has what’s called kill orders. No one would be able to decipher what these are unless you’re apart of Sanctum. This right here? This paper states to make it look like her illness took her,” he scoffs. “We look Vex in the eye almost daily, and he doesn’t even flinch.”

  “Vex?”

  “He’s the KG. Well, I’m the only one that calls him that. Kill guy. My acronym, not theirs.” He adds a playful smirk, but it’s not entirely genuine.

  “Why is it called Sanctum anyways?”

  “It’s a holy place. A place you go to guarantee you and your family are in God’s good graces when you die. The place where you’re promised a good life for your family once you’re a part of it. They brainwash you into thinking this is the way things should go. But what they really do is string you along, inch by inch, desiccating any ounce of normality inside you, so you become dependent on them. So, you feel like they’re doing you a favor, getting you out of the real world and into theirs where you’re untouchable. But in the end? It’s you doing the dirty work for the big guys at the top so they can get richer and more powerful, and you just become more tired and guilty.”

  “How did this even start? It sounds like crazy documentary shit you’d see on TV, so don’t mind my prying.” This time, his smile is genuine.

  “I never mind you. You’re one of the few that don’t get on my fucking nerves.”

  “Now, that’s surprising.”

  “Nah. I love women and don’t hide it. But fuck if I can’t stand them for more than a couple hours at a time.”

  “Wow. Just wow.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Honestly, I’m not completely sure. I wouldn’t even be a part of Sanctum if it weren’t for Cohen and I being best friends. I always thought his dad was taking me under his wing with Cohen because he felt bad mine was a deadbeat, and my mom isn’t all there. But ever since we caught on to the possibility of them killing Rebecca, I’ve been beginning to think otherwise.”

  “What do you mean?” I’m genuinely curious, even if this is the first conversation I’ve had with Evan that has any sort of substance to it.

  He scratches his chin with his hand, then drags it through his short dark hair as he contemplates his next words, which I can appreciate. I respect people who choose their words specifically, giving meaning to each and everything they say. It means more than just a bullshit off-the-cuff reply.

  “Like I said, he took me under his wing with Cohen. But the more I look back, the more things seemed too … planned. It wasn’t that he wanted to spend time with us like we’d thought when we were young, but more like he was building us into specific tools no one else had, so he’d have the advantage over everyone else.”

  “What is it that you do exactly?”

  “I like you, Dessa. But not that much.”

  “Pussy,” I say, and he chuckles. “Well, I’m going to get going. This evening definitely distracted me from my issues, while also giving me a new set of issues. So, I’m not sure if I should be thanking you or putting you higher on my shit list.”

  “I’m surprised we’re not already at the top.”

  “Me too, but don’t worry. You’re getting closer, and the night is young.” We smile at each other as I grab my bags and stand. “Take care, Costa.”

  “You too, Collins.”

  I smile and make my way out of the front door, and exhaustion hits me like a brick wall. I walk down the stairs and to my car, grabbing my phone and keys, unlocking my car before I get there. I throw my bag in the back seat and get in the car, turning on the heat to replace the chill in the air. It’s getting colder, and I love it.

  Once I make it to my place, I head inside and take out the folder in my bag. I’ve had enough crazy for one night, so I set the folder on my nightstand. I’ll deal with whatever is in there tomorrow. I change into a nightshirt and climb into my bed, my fluffy down comforter hugging me in warmth. Cozy calls my name, but before I get comfortable, my phone chimes in my hand as I’m plugging it in.

  Russo: No goodbye?

  Me: Awe, did I hurt your feelings?

  As soon as my finger hits send, I regret it, feeling like a bitch and forgetting what he just found out about.

  Me: Sorry,
that was insensitive.

  Russo: Did you just apologize? Thank God this is a text. Now I have a paper trail proving you have humanity.

  Me: Har-har.

  Russo: See you soon, Little One.

  Me: Night, Creep.

  I roll my eyes and lay down with a smile. My last thought before I go to sleep? Cohen. And I’m in trouble because he seems to be the only one I have lately.

  This is, by far, the worst night of sleep I’ve had for as long as I can remember, which says something for a girl who was homeless for a year. I get up and go to the bathroom, looking at my pale, tired face in the mirror. Bags are under my eyes, and I don’t have enough coffee in my system to look at the folder glaring at me from my nightstand. I splash water on my face and fix my ragged top knot before heading into the kitchen. I fill up the biggest cup I have with the cold-brew coffee from the fridge and pour, what most would call, an unreasonable amount of creamer into my cup. As I take the first sip of my ice-cold coffee, life returns to my body. I grab the file out of my room and set up shop in my living room.

  My personal documents I found yesterday stares back at me, and I move it to the side when my eyes come across information regarding my mom. It’s not much, a few reports on her hospital stay, which is odd because I’ve never heard about a visit. Just as I set it aside, something catches my eye. The date. It’s not my birthday. It’s about one year after mine, and, holy shit, this is my sister’s birthday. This document is the first solid lead I have connecting me to her, and the beating in my chest refuels the hope that was depleted. I write down the hospital address and the date my mom was in there, hoping I can find more information out. What am I going to say when I get there? Hell, if I know, but I’m not leaving until I figure something out.

  It’s about eight in the morning when I race to my bathroom and throw on a quick face of makeup, some clothes, lace up my Doc Martens, and head out the door to the hospital. The whole ride, I’m on edge. The fact I’m so much closer makes this entire situation more real to me. About twenty minutes later, I pull in and realize I’ve no clue where to start or what I’m going to say. I’m just going to go with the flow on this one. Improvise. I lift my head, feigning confidence and normality, and walk to the general information desk.