The coffee wasn't as good as I'd wanted, but it pleasantly burned down my throat and warmed my chest. Nathaniel barely got me to eat some toast. I couldn't stomach anything. The need to tell them and be done with it was too consuming.

Although telling them would only be the beginning.

We were sitting at a table in the hospital canteen. The white tables and chairs and the beige flooring would have made the place dull if not for the floor to ceiling glass windows, looking over a green garden, and the colorful menu board on top of the counter.

Nurses and doctors scattered around the sprawling space. Worn-out looking people hunched over coffee. A chair scraped against the floor, drowning out the constant hum of conversation.

Chris' phone rang. He checked the caller's ID before nodding at Nathaniel. "The men are here. I'll go work the details out with the hospital."

After Chris left, Nathaniel explained. "We think it's better if there are a few bodyguards around. At least for a while."

Right. Chris owned a private security company. "From his company?"

"Yes," Nathaniel said, wrapping his hands around his Styro cup. "He's going to station some in front of Mark's room before coordinating with the hospital security."

I would have to thank Chris.

"If he hadn't shown up yesterday..." I trailed off, then shook my head. I didn't even want to think about that scenario.

Nathaniel squeezed my knee. "I would've found you. We're lucky he happened to be around. But even if he didn't, I would've found you."

His words were spoken with such undeniable conviction, they rang as the truth. I smiled at him, relieved. He would find me. If anyone could do it, it would be him.

"Wait, what happened to the man who was trying to kidnap Mark?" I asked. With Mark hurt, I had completely forgotten about him.

"Dead," Nathaniel said. "He died on the way to the hospital."

I couldn't say I was heartbroken about it.

Chris returned shortly after. "Everything is set." He looked around the canteen. It was slowly getting crowded as people came in for breakfast. "I think we should talk somewhere more private."

We ended up back in the room I woke up in. Perks of being an important benefactor of the hospital. Apparently Nathaniel was very charitable.

I sat on the edge of the bed, refusing Nathaniel's offer to take the armchair. I needed to look at both of them.

I linked my hands in my lap to keep the tremors away. Bright sunlight streamed in through the window and touched the carpet and walls with golden fingers. A brief reprieve from the gray weather. I took it as a good sign.

Straightening my back, I looked at the men and took a deep breath.

"Chris, I don't know if Nathaniel told you about where I came from."

Chris shook his head, leaning forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees. Nathaniel shifted, his dark eyes fixed on me.

"No, he hasn't," Chris said.

"Okay," I said. "When he decided to take us in, I felt that he needed to know what I... was before. So I told him part of the truth. That I grew up in a brothel."

If Chris was surprised, he didn't show it. I continued. "My mother was a worker there. Although worker is a misnomer. I don't know who my father is, or Mark's father. Anyway, this is mostly the extent of what Nathaniel knows. But it's not entirely accurate."

I took a deep breath. "The place we grew up in isn't a simple brothel. It's an underground organization that offers all kinds of sexual services for people who can afford it."

Nathaniel and Chris frowned in confusion. "How is that different from a brothel?" Chris asked.

"Because, most of the workers aren't there of their own free will. We never leave the compound. We're not paid. We're basically prisoners there. And," I gulped. "They offer more than just women. They offer women, men, and until not long ago, children as well."

Shock and horror played on Chris and Nathaniel's faces. "Ch-children?" Chris croaked out.

My hands fisted. "Yes."

"But how...? That's... children?!" Chris said, his shock slowly morphing to anger. Nathaniel leaned back in his seat, running a hand down his face.

I shrugged, looking down at my lap. "It's true. I've been there my whole life. I was there when children used to... you know."

A heavy silence. Nathaniel shot to his feet and paced back and forth.

"Where do they get the children?" Chris finally asked.

"The women there. They used to just get them pregnant, one way or another," I said. "There were some women there who would get pregnant just for promises of drugs and stuff like that. I was born there. My mother had me for that reason."

Nathaniel paced still, his face set into a blank mask. But his eyes were dark with fury. Chris shook his head. He looked at the window, unblinking. When he looked back at me, it seemed as though he'd aged twenty years. "You said they used to offer children. They don't do that anymore?"

"Technically, no. Years ago, a couple of women who gave birth there couldn't watch their children be used that way. So they escaped. We didn't know how they did it or what happened to them, if they caught them or not, but after the incident happened again, the management decided to stop women from getting pregnant and stopped offering children as workers. At least from what I've seen."

Those women had made a great difference in the lives of the workers in the House. Women were no longer afraid of getting pregnant, of watching their children go through such horrible things.

Their maternal instincts had not just saved their children, but many others who would've come after them as well.

The same couldn't be said for my own mother. She was a selfish drug addict who couldn't care less about Mark or me. It was a wonder Mark and I were born normal with the amount of drugs she used while pregnant.

"Are there still children there?" Chris asked.

"The youngest person there was Mark," I replied. "I made sure he was out of sight. But I left girls and boys there younger than me. Seventeen, eighteen, still locked there."

I looked down at my lap, shame and guilt gnawing away at my insides.

Chris stared at the ground in silence. Nathaniel stopped next to the window.

"Wait, you never went outside?" Nathaniel looked at me, disbelief and anger coloring his voice.

"No. We weren't allowed to go outside the compound," I said.

"But how were they able to keep it a secret for so long?" Chris said. "You're twenty, this means it has been going on for at least twenty years."

"It's been going on for a lot longer. There were people older than me there, people who had been born there. My guess would be thirty to thirty five years," I said. "And to answer your question. They have connections everywhere. One of the supervisors in the section I worked at was a police officer. And there were doctors who made sure we were healthy enough to... perform."

"Doctors?"

"Yes. Our health was relatively well taken care of. Most of the clients are extremely wealthy people who like the secrecy the organization provides. The management made sure all the Dispensables are in good condition to keep the clients satisfied."

"Dispensables?"

"That's what we're called," I explained with a humorless smile. "The workers there. Because we're, well, dispensable."

The men weren't amused. The tension in the room was suffocating. Nathaniel resumed his pacing. His shock was replaced by a cold, calculative anger.

"That's why you didn't want the police to know about you," Nathaniel stated.

"Smart move, if you ask me," Chris said, clasping his hands together. "They'll probably do anything to protect their secret. And with the kinds of resources you say they have, they'll find you easily-" He straightened, looking at me with wide eyes. I guess he finally caught up.

I nodded. "It's them. They're the people who were trying to take us yesterday. I recognized some of the guards from the House."

"The House?" Chris asked.

"It's what we call the main section of the compound where the Dispensables are."

Chris shook his head. I looked at Nathaniel. He was quiet in a way that made me wary. What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Would he finally be disgusted?

Chris looked at me with determined eyes. "Daphne, do you remember where the compound is?"

I slowly nodded. Without another word, he stood up and left the room.

It was only minutes, but felt like hours when Nathaniel finally stopped stalking around the room. He sat beside me on the bed, angling his body to face me. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek and looked anywhere but at him. "I was afraid," I said. "If I told you then we'd have to go to the police, I was afraid they'd find us. I don't care what happens to me, but I can't watch Mark grow up in that place. I won't."

He let out a loud sigh. His fingers tilted my chin to look at him. "You're important, too. Do you understand?"

Was I? After everything I had been through, all the decisions I had to make at the House and after we escaped, did I deserve to live a normal, carefree life? Was I even able to? I didn't know. Was living with the weight of my past sins enough punishment? I doubted it.

But I didn't have to worry about that now. I had more than enough to deal with.

"Alright, we'll take this slow," Nathaniel said. "Chris will have a clear idea about how to handle the police. But they'll still want to talk to you."

"Should I tell them, too?"

Chris walked in before Nathaniel could reply, closing the door behind him. He seemed a bit calmer. He gave me a small smile.

"The police are here. I think it's a good idea you tell them everything," he said. "I know the detective who's coming, so we'll try to keep things under wraps until we can make our next move. Since you've kept quiet this long, let's hope they think you won't report them this time either."

I took a shuddering breath. "Okay."

The detective arrived shortly after. He sat on one armchair while I took the other. He was dressed in a worn black jacket, the buttons of the blue shirt underneath straining against his prominent girth. His dark hair was peppered with gray and messy, and his face looked mellow. He seemed like a kind, regular middle-aged man, if you didn't notice the razor sharp glint in his green eyes.

He pulled out a small notebook and a pen as soon as he sat. Nathaniel and Chris stood by while I reiterated what I'd told them before. The detective's gaze alternated between surprise and suspicion.

He didn't believe me.

If I was in his shoes, I wouldn't either. The story was fit for a movie plot.

He interrupted me on a few occasions to ask questions, but other than that, he was quiet. His green eyes remained apprehensive.

"So the men chasing you yesterday were guards from that facility? And you think they wanted to take you back?"

"Yes," I said evenly. He scribbled something in his notebook. Leaning back in his seat, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"Ms. Renata, I'm not saying I don't believe you. But you do realize what you're saying is extremely far fetched. To have an organization like that exist under the radar for so long, with so many people and children..."

Nathaniel's expression tightened. He almost jumped in, but I shook my head slightly. Looking back at the detective, I explained, "I know. But I told you their network includes a lot of people in positions of power, including the police."

His eye twitched at the mention of police involvement. But I didn't back down. I kept my eyes level on his. I would not sugar coat facts to anyone, not anymore.

"And that's another claim I find hard to believe. If the organization has been going on for as long as you claim, it means several generations of government officials are involved."

"So you're not even going to consider investigating? There were children there, there are still minors there, being abused right now."

"And yet you kept silent this entire time," he said with a raised brow.

I took a deep breath, frustration and guilt a heavy rock in the pit of my stomach. "I told you I was afraid that if I went to the police, they'd find me."

The officer sighed deeply and closed his notebook with a snap. "Ms. Renata, I'll see what I can do. If you can give us a location, we'll start off with that."

I hesitated. I'd watched enough crime shows to know they would need a warrant to search the place. By the time they got it, if they got it, everything could be gone.

Frustrated and angry, I stood up, shrugged off my jacket then took off my sweater. Amid the wide-eyed, bewildered gazes of the men, I gave my back to the officer and pulled my tank top up to reveal my lower back.

"My God," Chris muttered.

The officer sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of my brand. It covered most of my lower back and looked like the skin was burned, stretched and disfigured to form my code number. D189. I could still remember the feeling of the burning hot metal against my back, the scent of scorched skin and my muffled screams.

"Every child used to get branded when they reach the age of ten. The number represents their identity for the organization."

I lowered my top and spun around, looking at the shocked officer. "If you can sleep at night knowing there are people going through worse things, then I guess I was right in not going to the police sooner. It wouldn't have made a difference anyway."

I picked up my sweater and stormed out of the room. I needed some air. It was all too much. A humorless chuckle escaped me. Of course he'd doubt me. Who would want to believe such monstrosities are truly happening in the world?

I looked over my shoulder when I heard footsteps trailing me. One of the guards waiting outside my room followed me from a distance. Far enough to give me privacy but close enough to intervene quickly if needed.

I made it to Mark's room. The two guards on either side of the door nodded at me. The two men filled their black suits to the seams, looking like they ate weights for breakfast.

Their presence gave me some peace of mind. Inside, Mark was still unconscious. Worry bubbled in my chest. The doctor had said Mark would wake up this morning.

It was still early, though. He'd wake up.

I put on my sweater, dragged a chair near Mark's bed and sat down, taking his small hand in mine. His other arm was wrapped in a cast, and a couple of scratches marred his cheek and temple. He looked peaceful. Color returned to his cheeks and lips. I pushed a brown curl back from his forehead.

A few minutes later, there was a light knock on the door, then Nathaniel slipped in.

He had my jacket. Dragging another chair next to mine, he put the jacket around my shoulders and sat down.

"He's not waking up," I whispered, rubbing my thumb on Mark's knuckles. "Should we call the doctor?"

"Let's wait a bit longer. He said he'll be up sometime this morning."

"Okay," I said. "The detective doesn't believe me."

"He won't have a choice in the matter," Nathaniel grumbled. "Don't worry about him. We'll take care of it, one way or another."

Mark stirred. I jumped to my feet, hovering over him. His eyes slowly blinked open, hazy and confused. "Mark, sweetheart?"

He squinted, his eyes shifting to mine. "Daphie," he whispered.

"Oh, thank God." I exhaled loudly, my body shaking with relief. Nathaniel stood up and pressed the call button on the other side of Mark's bed.

"What ... where-?"

"It's okay, sweetie," I said, putting my hand on his forehead. "It's okay, we're in the hospital."

"My head hurts."

"The doctor will be here soon."

He frowned. Then his eyes widened. He looked around, trying to sit up.

"It's okay, Markie. It's just us. Those men are gone," Nathaniel said in a soothing tone. His hand moved toward Mark before he pulled it back.

"Gone?" Mark asked, looking between Nathaniel and me.

I nodded. The door opened then, a nurse and the doctor walked in.

"Ah, the little champion is up," the doctor said approaching Mark's bed. Nathaniel and I stepped back.

As soon as the doctor's hand neared Mark's forehead, he flinched back, closing his eyes tightly. The doctor raised his brows and looked at me.

I gave the doctor a tight smile and moved closer to Mark, whispering in his ear, "It's okay, sweetie. He'll just check on you, okay?"

"Would you feel better if the nurse checked you?" The doctor said in a gentle tone.

Mark looked at the nurse. The old lady smiled kindly. He nodded. The nurse checked him while the doctor asked some questions. After a few minutes, the doctor smiled at me.

"He'll be fine with some rest and care. I would like to keep an eye on him for another night."

"Alright," Nathaniel replied. The doctor and the nurse left us.

I needed to tell Mark that I had spilled the beans. If something happened to me, I wanted him to know he could trust Nathaniel with everything.

As I spoke, Mark's eyes grew wide, his chest heaving with loud breaths. He glanced at the door.

I had instilled in him not to talk about the House to anyone, that if he ever did, they would find us. It was no surprise he was alarmed.

"Shh, it's okay Mark," I said, cupping his cheek. "It's okay. They won't get to us, alright?"

His eyes flickered to Nathaniel. Nathaniel must have thought that Mark felt uneasy with him in the room. He stepped away from the bed and smiled slightly. "I'll be outside if you-"

His words died in his throat. His wide eyes looked down at Mark's hand. My little brother was holding onto Nathaniel's fingers, his hand looked so pale and small next to Nathaniel's.

"Don't leave," Mark said. Shaking his head, he looked at me. "Daphie, tell him he can't leave. He has to stay with us."

I shook myself out of my shock, but still couldn't utter a word. Mark was touching Nathaniel. Touching him. That was a moment I'd never thought I would see so soon.

"I'm not going anywhere." Nathaniel cleared his throat when his voice came out thick with emotions. "I'm not going anywhere, Markie. I'll stay right here."

Mark nodded, tightening his fingers on Nathaniel's hand. Nathaniel was frozen, as if afraid if he moved, the moment would shatter and Mark would flinch back.

But Mark relaxed, his breathing slowing down. I pulled the covers up, careful of his arm. His hand didn't slip from Nathaniel's until he fell asleep, surrendering to the pain medications.

I sat back in my chair. My eyes met Nathaniel's for a long moment before a heart-stopping grin appeared on his face, softening his features. I grinned back just as widely. He plopped down in the chair next to mine again.

"Thank you," I whispered, leaning my head on his sturdy shoulder. He pressed his lips to my hair.

"You're welcome, love."

My heart squeezed. But it was a good ache I didn't mind suffering.