SEVER

by Jane, Melissa

  The door smashes open and the same two men come in. Hauling Sam into the chair Joseph had occupied, they give her the same treatment they gave me until we’re both fully restrained. Mascara runs down my sister’s pink cheeks, and for a moment I feel sorry for her. She hadn’t expected this to happen when she was preparing for work earlier tonight. But another part of me wishes my hands were free so I could reach across and slap her.

  “What a collection we have here.” Joseph smiles like an asshole, passing his victory gaze between us. “I certainly did not see this coming. But I must admit…” he crosses one arm and taps his chin with a finger as if in contemplation, “this could certainly be used to our advantage. Mine, I mean. It will certainly not be an advantage to you.”

  “I don’t care what you have going on here,” I plead. “Just let us go and we mind our own—”

  I’m backhanded across the cheek so hard my chair balances precariously until Sam wraps her legs around mine, effectively stabilizing me.

  “I’ve got clients asking for Sam down—” The familiar voice cuts short when he rounds the door, eyes widening in horror when he sees his wife sitting tied up in front of him. He notices Sam in the same position and frowns in confusion. “What the hell is going on? Blythe, what are you doing here?”

  Joseph bursts out laughing in amazement, and we all look to him thoroughly enjoying himself. “Ho-ly. Shit,” he exclaims. “Just when I think it couldn’t get any better.” He lunges for me, his hand knotting my hair, a Glock pointing up under my chin. His humor has now vanished, replaced by an unrivaled rage. “Now tell me again, what the fuck you are doing here?”

  “Get the fuck off her,” Shawn bellows, making moves toward Joseph.

  Joseph takes a swing in defense, but Shawn expertly dodges it. They grapple, jabbing each other when possible, both fighting for control of the gun. It fires into the roof once more, and Sam and I both scream and duck, not knowing if we’ll be hit next. The men fall to the floor, Shawn on top when he delivers a punishing blow to Joseph’s jaw who sneaks one in return. The two men who’d roped us return and, in seeing the commotion, wrestle to pry apart Shawn and Joseph. It takes some effort, the Glock sliding across the floor, the mass of bodies moving unpredictably throughout the room.

  Finally, with the two men holding Shawn back, Joseph wipes blood from his lower lip and straightens his jacket. If he was pissed before, he’s raging now, nostrils flaring, a deathly promise in his stare. He drags the office chair around the table and adds it to his collection. The men, heavy-handedly, force Shawn to sit. One man leaves, most likely to find more rope, while the other battles to keep still an uncooperative Shawn. Having enough of the commotion, Joseph retrieves his Glock and pistol-whips my husband into submission. He’s left dazed, eyes fluttering before closing.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Sam snaps in his defense. I know it’s the wrong time to be angry about their affair, but I can’t hide my disgust. She glances at me, frowning at my response.

  Joseph again wipes his lip while Shawn’s wrists are tied to the armrests. “This sure turned into a fucking shit-show,” he growls. “Is it so hard for you bitches to give a fucking truthful answer?”

  “We did,” Sam and I reply in unison.

  Joseph chuckles at our supposed insubordination.

  “And you expect me to believe your bullshit story.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

  “I know it seems off that there’s three people from the same family here, but I can assure you, both Sam and Shawn had no idea I even knew about this place, let alone the fact that I’d be turning up here tonight.”

  Oh, how I wish I’d stayed home with Toby instead.

  Joseph backhands me once more and the room spins.

  “Stop fucking doing that!” Samantha yells. “She’s telling the truth. You ask for the truth and she’s been giving it to you this whole time.”

  “Shut. The. Fuck. Up!” he bellows in her face.

  The two men step forward, offering their services.

  “Stay here while I find out what the fuck is going on,” he orders them. “And if any of these cunts step out of line, I give you permission to fucking hurt them. Just don’t spill too much blood. I fucking hate blood,” he seethes before exiting the room.

  Joseph leaves us with the two men guarding the door. Unlike their boss, they’re indifferent to what’s going on, but they both pack some solid muscle I don’t wish to be on the receiving end of.

  “Blythe,” Samantha hisses. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Don’t you dare take that tone with me. You’re not in the position to—”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? We’re both in the same damn position.”

  “I’m not talking about being tied to a chair. But while we’re at it, I’m tied to this goddamn chair because of you.”

  “Me?” she demands, eyes wide.

  I scoff, incredulous at her audacity. “Where do I start? I could be home with Toby, but no, I’m out sleuthing after you because your whole life has been a fucking lie, like this…” I awkwardly kick Shawn in the shin and he murmurs to life, “piece of shit. You two seem more than happy sneaking behind my back having your affair and sinking yourselves into this perverted cult. What the hell happened to both of you to make you think ‘oh, this is a fucking great idea?’ And thanks for your fucking comradery, sister. The last person I ever expected to stab me in the back was you. But it feels real fucking good, not that I’ll ever get the chance to repay the favor, because I’ll most likely die in Satan’s den and then Toby won’t be able to fend for himself because no one will ever guess that Blythe Cooper… Blakely… whoever the fuck I am, died in a fucking human trafficking ring!”

  “Wh… Who’s Toby?” Shawn stammers, eyes narrowed in confusion.

  “Shut up,” I snap. “And wait your damn turn.”

  “First of all…” Samantha starts. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I never lied to you, I just never revealed where I worked.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised. It’s not somewhere you’d want to add to your fucking resume now, is it?”

  “This place saved my life, and to be honest, I don’t know why you keep referencing to it as something so terrible. And human trafficking, I don’t get it.”

  “Are you purposefully playing dumb? Is it not bad enough that dickhead Joseph thinks it runs in the family? Look where we are, Sam… it’s the end of the road. The least you can do is be honest, since we might not survive the hour.”

  “She doesn’t know,” Shawn adds, helpfully.

  “Know what?” we say in unison.

  “She doesn’t know about the auctions.”

  “How could she not? I had fuckwit pervert with the bad breath sink himself in it when he told me all about the auctions. Are you telling me I found out in one night what Sam has been so blissfully unaware of for months?”

  “Yes,” he nods, blood trickling down his temple. “It was never her place to know. She had her role, I had mine.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Well, you should.”

  “Well, I don’t. Because you’ve been lying to me for a year now about… Every. Damn. Thing.”

  “Can you two save you marriage issues for later and tell me what the hell you’re talking about? I simply introduce clients from Othello’s to here. And Shawn takes care of the legalities.”

  I laugh and everyone in the room stares wide-eyed.

  Granted, I do look manic.

  “Shawn doesn’t take care of the legals. He’s doing the complete opposite to that and committing crimes by grooming women to be sold at auction.”

  My sister looks between us, waiting for someone to say it’s a joke. When we don’t, her response isn’t what I expect. “Fuck off,” she replies slowly, debating if I’m speaking the truth.

  “I’m not lying, Sam. You’ve been recruiting the men, while my husband has been recruiting young women. Your men have been
buying said women.”

  “No, that’s not right,” she says but I can see the wheels turning. “I was simply taking men from one club to another—”

  “And why is that, Sam? Have you ever wondered why you’re taking them between clubs owned by the same person?”

  “How did you piece all this together?”

  “It’s fucking Shakespeare for fuck’s sake!” When she stares blankly, I start yelling. “Othello, Ophelia… the fucking Tempest! That’s not a coincidence. Othello, all ego. They’re the rich egos you hand your business cards to. Ophelia? Virginal! Shawn recruits the young women. Then you both bring them back here to…” I pull on my rope hoping loosen it. “Back to this shitstorm… the Tempest. You get it? And Prospero? Prospero is the watchword to get in this fucked-up place. In The Tempest, Prospero is the master of the monster! How does this not connect with either of you?” When nobody answers, I grunt in frustration. “Now I know how dickhead Joseph feels.” Shawn really has no excuse. We’ve attended countless Shakespeare productions, which in hindsight must have been under sufferance.

  There’s a moment of silence, and for Sam it’s a rather profound moment. “Holy shit,” she finally whispers. “I’m so stupid, I’ve never made the connection. Not even once, and I studied Shakespeare for two years in Mrs. Lindsay’s class.”

  I shrug trying to make it better. “To be fair, she was an awful teacher. I’m not surprised you didn’t retain anything.”

  “How did you know?” Shawn asks, voice laden with guilt.

  “I followed Sam and stalked her house until she left for work. Then I followed her,” I reply bitterly, leaving out the visuals from my last post. “How I got in here is nobody’s business. But once I was in, I started seeing familiar faces.” I turn to Shawn with scornful eyes. “Including Mr. Burton, our asshole, thieving banker, who won one of your girls from Ophelia. Thanks so much, by the way, I really love how you and he worked together so well to screw me over. Fucking me with a pineapple would have been a much sweeter experience.”

  Shawn chuckles but it’s solemn. “I fucked up, Blythe. My explanations may not be good enough, but if we make it out of this, I promise to make it all better.”

  “You’re too late. Besides…” I look to my sister and him, “I’m not into sloppy seconds. Or, in this case, would I be sloppy thirds? Or being that I was first to start with, does that really qualify me as sloppy anything—”

  “What are you talking about?” Sam interrupts my rant.

  “You and Shawn. Shawn and you. How long has that little charade been going on?”

  “There’s nothing going on,” my husband states as a matter-of-fact.

  I scoff. “And it’s expected you’d say that.”

  “He’s telling the truth.”

  “I saw you both the other day at Sam’s house. You had your shirt undone and you zipped Sam’s dress.”

  “I had a shower at your sister’s because I was running late and her house is closer.”

  Plausible.

  “And the conversation that followed? Tell Blythe. No, don’t tell Blythe. She’s unstable. She’s—”

  “She’s got things totally wrong,” Shawn interjects.

  “So, what were you debating telling me? That you, husband, fought so much for me to remain in the dark?”

  “I…” Sam begins. “I wanted to tell you about my work, the money, the situation I’m in.”

  “Are you pregnant?” I turn to Shawn. “Did you get my sister pregnant?”

  “No!” they reply in unison.

  “You’re my fucking sister, Blythe, give me some credit. Shawn and I have been at loggerheads because I wanted to tell you how I was helped out. How this job literally stopped me from winding up on the street. How I now have the security of a home, a car, regular income—”

  “I’m sensing a but…”

  “It’s a big but. It’s all given as an advance. Estimated, it will take two years to pay off. I wanted to tell you all about it, but when Shawn found out I was working here, he begged me to keep it quiet. Well, I guess, now I know why. I didn’t know about the auctions. I didn’t know Shawn recruited young women. I didn’t know any of that. My time is mostly spent at Othello. I simply come here to make sure my clients are comfortable and happy.”

  I exhale, relieved my sister is still of the same moral standing. Guilt wracks my soul. “So, you two aren’t having an affair?”

  “Absolutely fucking not!”

  So, Sam’s riches haven’t come from our joint bank accounts after all.

  I meet Sam’s eyes, which not-so-subtly indicate for me to discuss matters with Shawn. I don’t want to because I won’t be able to wipe the snot from my nose when I cry. He, however, has other plans.

  “I’m sorry, Blythe.”

  “I feel like the apologies need to be saved for the women you bring here.”

  “I never bring anyone against their will. They’re in full knowledge of the process and are happy to oblige.”

  If my hands were free, I’d slap him.

  “Are you kidding me? Did you not see the two girls brought out tonight? The first looked barely legal and drugged off her nut, and so did the third one. If you see that as consensual, then I don’t know what sort of monster you’ve become.”

  “Everything is consensual. Some girls take the drugs prior because their nerves get the better of them.”

  “Why are you even here, Shawn? Why the hell did you leave Usher and Gainsburg to come here and watch young women being auctioned off, whether it’s against their will or not?”

  “Because I bought into something that it wasn’t. I was sold a dream and ended up with a fucking nightmare. Before I realized what was happening, I’d sunk myself into such a deep hole it wouldn’t matter how or when I escaped because I’m just as guilty as the next person here.”

  “I’m happy you can admit it’s fucked up.”

  “Blythe, it’s more than fucked up. That’s why I couldn’t tell you. I was approached with a business deal I thought could earn us millions. So, I bought into it. I was lied to, I was cheated. I was blackmailed. I was beaten when I tried to leave. That time I disappeared for three weeks straight, I was laid up in a hotel because I didn’t want you to see the state I was in.”

  I feel my face pale. I had no idea about any of this. No fucking idea.

  “This has been happening all year?”

  He nods. “I learned quickly after that how far I could push the boundaries. All my… our assets, are tied to this place. Financial records will lead right back to us, and I couldn’t have you implicated in such a thing. Something I was only learning about myself. The whole endeavor became a rabbit hole full of the most fucked-up shit I’ve ever seen. And there’s no way I can get out of it.”

  “You could have told me, Shawn.” Tears start to fall, and while I’m still mad over his poor decisions, he isn’t totally at fault. He’s been royally screwed over.

  “I couldn’t tell you. There were threats made against your life if I did. I could never have allowed you to get hurt like that. So, I had to hurt you with my constant lies and behavior instead. If I told you, you would have looked at me with such disgust, and I couldn’t bear that thought.”

  “Did you cheat on me with any of those girls?”

  “Never. I flirted, but that was only to win their trust, but I never broke those boundaries. I wouldn’t do that to you, Blythe. I love you more than you can ever comprehend. I never stopped.”

  While my heart surges at hearing the words I’ve longed to hear for so long and said with such sincerity, I’m wracked with so much soul-destroying guilt. Because I can’t say the same, despite wishing I could go back in time and undo it all.

  “Blythe, please look at me.” I don’t even realize I’m crying but my chest aches and my cheeks are sodden. “Babe, please don’t cry. Just look at me.”

  I swallow hard and meet his eyes which are loaded with hope.

  Hope for an us.

  An us th
at may not survive this, mentally or physically.

  “I’m sorry, Shawn,” I say through broken sobs. He may have royally fucked up but so have I. “I’m so sorry for—”

  “You don’t need to be sorry. I could see how much I was hurting you, and all those times I walked away leaving you in tears was because I just wanted to hold you in my arms. We can get through this, Blythe. We’ve always been a team, and we’ve always loved each other. We can get through this.”

  “I don’t think we—”

  “Do you still love me, Blythe? If you still love me, say it, and I promise we can get through anything. We can go to Cabo like you said and—”

  “We can’t get—” I break, sobbing hard because our marriage will never be the same despite how desperately I want it to be. We’ve both committed heinous crimes against each other. Shawn tries to shuffle closer, but stops when one of the thugs at the door lifts his Glock in warning.

  “Babe, if you say you love me, we will work all this out and nothing will matter. If you don’t, I promise I’ll let you be. I won’t harass you. I won’t contact you. But I need to know if there’s still a chance I can make it up to you. Just tell me, do you still love me?”

  “Yes, Blythe. Do you?” The familiar voice is like a knife through my heart. He rounds the corner slowly, his presence filling the room. Eyes are narrowed with challenge, his strong jawline set like stone. There isn’t an ounce of warmth to be had, and when I see little Toby asleep in his arms, I start to panic because I realize he isn’t here to save me.

  “Kane,” I say, momentarily confused. “You’re Prospero?”

  “You didn’t know?” Sam interjects my thoughts.

  “This is all you?” I ask, feeling a panic attack coming on.

  He smiles wickedly and sweeps his arm in a grand gesture. “This is all me, beautiful.”

  I close my eyes and breathe deep hoping the nausea will pass. When I reopen them, Kane watches me curiously, his head tilted to the side. “Surely you must have had some idea.”

  I didn’t. Because I was blindsided and now I feel the ultimate fool.