(Helen's POV)
I know what these people are. What they do for a living.
I met them two years ago during one of my trips abroad. Thailand. A party on a yacht that seemed harmless until it wasn't.
I saw things happening in the back rooms and understood exactly what kind of business they conducted.
That made me leave before dessert was served.
And the worst part? They don't take money.
Money is too clean. Too simple. Too easy to walk away from.
No.
They take something far more valuable.
Heart. Body. Pieces of your soul you can never get back.
I spent months cutting ties with them after that night. Blocking numbers. Changing hotels. Making sure they couldn't find me.
And now here I am. Calling them myself.
"That's a tall order coming from you."
"Can you do it or not?"
A pause. I c
