Riding The Edge - Elise Faber Page 0,15

about to share part of that truth, part of the secret I’d hidden from everyone save Laila. But even she didn’t know the full breadth of my depravity, couldn’t begin to understand all the things I’d seen and done and blindly turned an eye to.

The memories of those deeds, those horrible events, those actions I would never be able to make right, meant I’d ended up in the gym with a need to run and sweat and work myself into oblivion. I’d been so off my game and too easily read and frankly . . . too fucking fragile. So after that conversation in the gym, I’d known I’d needed to go, had needed space to think without constantly feeling rubbed raw by Dan and his presence.

I should have been able to lock down my emotions.

From the moment I’d been old enough to finally understand my family was cruel and involved in absolutely abhorrent things, from the moment I’d stopped blindly abiding them, from trying to be like them—of course that had come far too late and was something I would never forgive myself—I’d worked to shut off all my feelings. It was the only way to survive as I’d worked to distance myself from them, from the things they did, and to buy me time to find an escape route.

They’d seen, though, understood they were part of something that had disgusted me, and they’d tried all methods of manipulation and gaslighting to bring me to their side.

And when it became clear I would never abide by what they were doing, they’d—

“Holy shit,” Olive breathed, thankfully pulling me from my memories. “Is that their shipping pattern?”

I sucked in a silent breath, slowly released it, then nodded. “Yes,” I said, highlighting the columns. “These are the shipments we’ve been able to confirm from the last six months”—most of which KTS had arrived too fucking late to help the men, women, and children from being trafficked—“and I believe these are their scheduled drops for the next three months.” I pointed to a row. “This is an example of a planned pickup.” I gestured to another. “This, I think, is for a merchandise drop-off.”

Merchandise being people.

“Holy hell,” Olive said. “Why are they all in Italy?”

“And they’re definitely not for fucking lettuce,” Dan muttered. “How did you—?”

His eyes, an azure that reminded me of the deep blue water of the Mediterranean. I’d grown up overlooking that sea, first walking on the sandy shores and later keeping hold of the barest sliver of my sanity by staring out the crack in the stone wall I’d managed to carve out.

My fingertips ached, remembering how I’d bloodied my nails, scratching against that wall, hour after hour.

I’d grown up in the arms of the Italian mob, had been honed in the blood and violence of turf wars and money laundering and drug smuggling.

It had taken me years to find my way out, years more to find KTS.

But I’d been working with the agency for almost a decade, doing good things, finding a way to erase my blood-stained past. All it took was one source, one flash drive, one set of files, and I felt like I was dumped right back there.

In that cell.

In that darkness.

Just a sliver of the sea keeping me sane.

“They’re working with the Mikhailova,” I said. “It’s why we haven’t been able to shut the Russian ring down before. They’re not running it out of Russia. They’re running it out of Italy.”

Ryker, Laila’s husband and their most experienced agent, frowned. “Where are you getting your information?”

I couldn’t deny I felt a slice of relief that Ryker didn’t know my past. Laila was the only one who knew a little of how I’d grown up—or well, not the specific how when it came to cells and darkness and torture, but Laila knew that I had grown up in the fold of the mob. I had trusted her with that information before I’d allowed her to bring me to KTS, and she’d helped me build my cover as Ava Mills when I’d committed to the agency.

But my friend hadn’t told Ryker.

Even though they were married.

And that made the brittleness that had filled my bones dissipate slightly. How much to tell the team would be my decision.

But there wasn’t any doubt in this situation.

I would tell them everything I knew, anything that might be helpful. Because I’d left any loyalty to the Toscalos behind the moment I’d escaped that cell and gone to ground.

“My information is from someone