“For good,” I say, filling in what he didn’t say.
“Yes.”
I glance between Ryker and Slade, narrowing my eyes as I figure out what exactly they’re trying to say. Daire is now petting the girl’s hair, zoned out of our conversation.
“You assist in suicides.”
Slade’s stare turns grave. “Consensually. These are people who have a low quality of life. Whether they’re terminally ill, old and tired, or suffering from other mental illnesses. Whatever their reason, it’s their choice, and they agree to donate their organs. Kace puts them in a deep sleep, extracts the organs, and then they pass. Completely painless.”
I nod my head slowly, turning that information over in my head. People often only care about life when it’s inside of a woman’s stomach but stop caring once that life is born. Makes me wonder if people choose this route because they couldn't get the help they needed.
I purse my lips, then state, “Oregon is a state that passed the Death with Dignity Act.”
“The people who come to us are not from the states who have passed that law. In order to qualify for a physician-assisted death, you have to prove your residency,” Slade explains.
“And the money you get for their organs—where does it go?”
“Depends on their wishes. Sometimes they ask it to go to the family, and we honor that. But in most cases, whether it’s because they are not on good terms with their family or they don’t have any at all, they don’t care what we do with it, as long as it’s helping someone.”
Ryker cuts in, “It’s a stable income, and they pass with dignity when they otherwise would not be able to. It also allows us to maintain our secrecy. As much as we want to be like the big, bad Z and go around killing all the evil guys, they’re the ones who deliver the victims directly into our hands so we can save them.”
I cock my head. “The little girl that was shot. How did that happen?”
Shadows fall over Ryker’s eyes, darkening them to a moss green. “That’s how one of the traders brought her to us. He didn’t say how it happened, just that she was now useless and that we could sell her organs since she was going to die, anyway.”
In this corner of the world, even the dead are valuable.
“If you killed them, that’s one less person capable of stealing innocent people from their lives. One less child getting shot and sold for their organs.”
Ryker leans forward, resting his elbows on his spread knees.
“We do, when we’re able to, which is why our reputation as ruthless, murderous assholes is important. But if every single tradesman in the black market were killed, it would raise suspicions. The second that happens, we’re out. We don’t have a worldwide organization like you, we’re only four men. This means if people catch on to us, that’s thousands of lives we don’t save. You know as well as I do that they’re parasites and breed like rabbits. Snuffing out a few doesn’t even put a dent in the cesspool of sick fucks. We save more lives this way, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have our fair share of blood on our hands.”
I nod, pursing my lips. “Fair enough,” I concede. “Good thing you have a mass organization at your disposal now. Maybe hold on to the next IOU paper, yeah? You can even sell it on eBay after—those are valuable.”
Slade tightens his lips and looks away.
“Fuck off, smartass.”
Chapter 17
The Diamond
If it weren’t for the collar wrapped around my throat, I’d consider swiping one of the guest’s pocketknives and slipping out the back door, disappearing into the night. I’d cut the tracking device out of my neck, and take off, uncaring if I’m wearing nothing to protect me from the elements. I’d rather die alone in the middle of the woods than at the hands of a sex trafficker.
And Francesca knows that. She knows all of us would risk that. That’s why simple black metal collars with a ruby pendant in the middle are currently dressing our throats. Something she made very clear houses another tracking device—one that can’t be removed without a key.
The house is engulfed in distraction and glamor. So many men, dressed to the nines with hundreds of thousands of dollars dripping from their icy wrists. So many opportunities to slip away unnoticed while eyes are turned.
I never understood why the sickest of humanity go out of their way to appear the prettiest. You can throw glitter on a snake, but the bitch still bites.
“You look beautiful,” a deep voice whispers in my ear from behind me. I startle, turning to find Xavier, a salacious grin on his face.