Chapter 161

POV Emília Gray

I didn't know why the hell I had agreed to follow Dante.

Would he tell me who they were? Damn it, I already knew what those guys always were. I refused to believe all the rumors, but I had the proof I needed. They killed. They took pleasure in it.

The smell of blood, gunpowder, and death calling its victims was ingrained in my mind.

My skin hadn't been washed of all the blood I had been soaked in after going to Norman's house. I felt it infiltrating my insides, leaving the marks of every corpse left by Dante.

Watching his back covered by a short-sleeved white t-shirt, the typical black pants, and his wide steps was terrifying in that dark hallway.

His shoulder blades moved with skill, harmony, and austerity. Because that was how he behaved. As if he were a god. Maybe of chaos. Maybe of ruin. Maybe of my shadows and all the demons consuming me. But he acted as if he were justice and could condemn whoever he wanted.

Always.

Since that day, in the forest.

"How long are you going to keep that in your hand?" he asked, before opening the door to lead to another room.

I raised the gun.

If it weren’t for the lack of ammunition in the pistol, I would have killed him. I would have ended it all.

I hadn’t hesitated that night.

I hated myself for crying in front of him. Dante didn’t deserve any of my tears, but I couldn’t swallow it. Especially when I realized I was as blind with revenge as he was.

I wasn’t worse than the person who killed me.

"None of us needs to worry about her," I replied. "For now."

He didn’t argue, just led me into a warm room.

Dante turned on the light, revealing a space filled with more paperwork than a library. There was a storage shelf, clearly for storing weapons and other things important to them.

A huge, long table stood in the middle. It had a map on it, marked in different colors. On the walls, I could see various covers they wore, swords hanging, as well as weapons of all sizes. But I couldn’t deny the chill that ran down my spine when I saw saws, steel masks, katanas, and various other weapons I never imagined they would use.

My stomach turned.

"Come closer," he ordered, his passive tone reacting even more aggressively than expected.

I stepped forward slowly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Dante..."

"I told you I would introduce who we are. Come."

"I don't want to be in this room with you."

"Gray, if I wanted to kill you, torture you, or do whatever, I would have done it a long time ago. Don't underestimate me."

My throat tightened.

I took enough steps to be only a few centimeters away from him. I stared at him before lowering my head to the table to look more closely at what was there.

I read the title, and a click sounded in my head.

"It’s the Factory’s map."

"The outdated one," he added. "Jaxon made it. He finished it recently. It’s the most complete we have, but there’s still a lot of shit missing."

I couldn’t understand. What was marked were what seemed to be Sections. They were numbered by letters, but several things were written in a language I didn’t understand.

"Are you trying to find the updated one?" I asked. "Wouldn’t it be better to search on Google? Maps is really good. You can even see real images of how the places look."

Dante didn’t find it funny, as his jaw clenched.

"It’s not a place."

"What is it?"

"A network." Dante inhaled, his chest expanding to the point that there was no more room for so much patience. Then, he spoke: "It’s a human trafficking network."

The shock hit me directly in the stomach. His words punched me, making me stumble backward.

"Are you part of…?"

"It depends on how you interpret the story."

Dante turned to face me, a slight upward curve of his mouth burning my veins.

His fingers traced the map.

"The Factory is the name given to the largest human trafficking network in the world. For centuries, its existence has dominated the underworld, but in recent decades, the business has grown much larger. There’s more money involved, generations of families participating, corrupt politicians, and influential people putting their dignity at risk to feed their vices."

"Why did you think I had a map like this?" I asked, the indignation growing with every moment I understood what this was really about.

Dante stared at me for what seemed like an eternity, but ignored it. He continued with his explanation, not caring about my question.

"The Factory is divided into what are called Sections. Each Section is the destination. Depending on where they think you’ll be most successful, you’re sent there." His finger traced the map. "Section A is labor trafficking. Any age and gender is welcome. Section B is sex trafficking. It’s mostly women and children. They’re made into sex slaves in the most depraved ways possible. They’re also used for marriages for reasons that don’t always have a clear explanation. The porn industry is also involved. Section C is for organ trafficking. It’s one of the most macabre. People are sedated, and then tests are done on them in specific laboratories where..."

"Dante, stop."

I closed my eyes, trying to avoid the images in my mind. My intestines weren’t processing what they should. My stomach clenched, ready to bring up whatever little food I had left.

"I can’t understand the point of all this."

"You need to know."

"Why?"

"So you understand which side to be on."

I stood up.

"I don’t want to choose a side. I’d rather not be part of this. It’s not mine. It’s not something that involves me." My face contorted each time I analyzed his unyielding sketch. Dante showed no emotion. "I don’t want to know."

Dante’s dark eyes couldn’t say anything. He stared at me, probing my face as if waiting to find a place to settle. As if he wanted something.

He seemed to be choking on secrets. His chest rose and fell frantically, though he avoided showing it.

It was decadent.

I felt that when Dante decided to speak, it wouldn’t be good.

Then, he looked up to another corner, breaking our contact, and decided to sit down.

I froze.

"Section D was the last one until five years ago. The only one in the country," he began. I wanted to interrupt, but he kept going: "For two years, sixty-five disappearances were recorded across the country. Fifteen of them were from Olympus. Ten were never found, the other five..."

"Managed to escape."

Dante gave a half-sad smile.

I didn’t want to feel compassion. I didn’t want anything other than anger, but hearing his version was tearing pieces out of my soul.

"What was Section D about?"

"Human flesh."

I managed to stay standing, but inside, the fall was infinite.

My tongue dried, as did my whole mouth. My fingers dug into my arm, pressing harder against my chest.

There was nowhere to put the information. It didn’t fit.

I shook my head, my stomach creating a tornado that swallowed the rest of my organs. An acidic, burning liquid rose up my throat.

I was going to vomit.