My hands are shaking uncontrollably and my vision is going blurry. If the suppressants didn’t make me sick, I feel horribly ill right now and barely able to stand. I feel Callum holding my sides and trying to get me to focus, but everything feels foggy and I can’t hear him. 

How could Ramsay join the trafficking ring? One of Dad’s golden rules is to never get involved in that kind of business; even though humans don’t have powers or know about supernaturals doesn’t mean that they deserve to be held as slaves to vampires! 

I kneel over the toilet and throw up, my head pounding. I feel a hand gently touching my back, and I’m sure it’s Callum trying to comfort me but it’s not going to work. I’m struggling to take deep breaths but I know I need to get it under control because we can’t ask for help here. 

“We need to go,” I say. I sound breathless and my voice is scratchy. 

Callum helps me to my feet, but I still need a lot of support in order to stay standing. He unlocks the bathroom door after flushing the toilet and basically drags me to the front of the trafficking auction club. 

I turn briefly as we make our way to the front and, while my vision is still blurry, I see Ramsay leave the back room. I pause in my tracks, stopping Callum from getting me out of the building. I know it’s stupid, but I need to talk to my brother. 

He can’t be involved in this. He’s been blackmailed, kidnapped, brainwashed… something is making him do this, he didn’t choose to do this. It’s inhumane, cruel, and completely disgusting. Ramsay knows this. He wouldn’t choose this path. 

Before I can rush up to my brother, Callum locks his arms around my waist and ignores my protests, dragging me out of the club. I assume I’m struggling and putting up a fight, but with how weak I feel, I assume I’m not fighting as well as I thought. 

Callum drags me down the street, not speaking the entire time. He opens the door to a car and I recognize the driver, but I still can’t pick up any scents. The medication is still working a little too well and I’m not a big fan of it. 

My mind is a little more clear now, but I still feel like I’m floating outside of my body. Like I’m just existing and have no control over my limbs or body. I’m leaning awkwardly against the door of the car, my mind racing with everything that we learned tonight. 

I almost wish I didn’t obsess over what he’s been doing. I wish I just assumed the best and ignored whatever suspicions I had; I think I’d prefer to know nothing than to face everything I learned in one night. I hope that Ramsay was forced into this and that it’s not his choice. 

Gods, please don’t let it be his choice. 

Something cold touches my hands and I turn to my right and see Callum trying to hand me a water bottle. He doesn’t say anything as he tries to hand it to me, and I take it from him. Callum touches my wrist and I notice that my hands are still shaking when I try to open the bottle. 

Callum takes it from me and opens it since I’m struggling. Once it’s open, he hands it into me but puts his hand over the back of mine to stabilize it while I drink. It’s still a little difficult, but I appreciate the gesture and his attempt to help me. 

The car ride is silent until my phone buzzes. 

Dad: It’s almost eleven. Are you with Callum?

Me: Yeah, at his place. Everything’s good. 

I toss my phone on the seat of the car, laying back against the seat. I don’t know what the next step is supposed to be in this kind of situation. It’s not every day that you find out your brother who was close enough to be your twin is actually secretly working within the human slave trafficking group. Gods, I never thought it would be possible for Ramsay to get involved with that. 

The car stops in front of Callum’s house. Thankfully, Helen is still at her club and apparently only comes home to check on Callum every now and then. Since I started spending the night here, I’ve only seen her a handful of times, and a couple of those were when we went out with the intent to meet up with her. 

“Thanks for driving us,” Callum says, opening the door to the car. 

It’s raining out, which makes sense with it being mid November. It’s a heavy rain and by the time we make it to the front door, my shirt is already coated in little patterns from the raindrops. A chill runs down my spine from how cold the rain is and Callum is struggling to unlock the door. 

When he gets it open, he puts his arm on my shoulder and we both enter the house. The house seems colder than it usually is, but I’m sure that has a direct correlation with how demoralized and depressed I feel right now. All I really want to do right now is lay down for a few days. 

Callum locks the door behind us. “How’s your stomach feeling?” he asks, guiding me to the kitchen before I can escape to the stairs. “Clubbing should never be your thing. It seems to make you vomit.”

I sit at the bar. “Good joke, usually I’d laugh, but I think realizing that my brother is part of a human trafficking ring ruined my sense of humor for the night,” I deadpan. 

“That does ruin things, huh?” Callum asks, opening the fridge and taking out a can of biscuits. “How does some comfort food sound?”

“You’re trying to keep me from hiding in one of the rooms.”

Callum nods, turning on the oven. “Yes, I am. We learned a bunch of heavy shit tonight and hiding isn’t going to make it go away. We need to figure out how to confront what we’ve learned, but we don’t have to do that tonight.”

“So… since we’re not confronting the problem, I think hiding is a good idea.”

“Nope. You’re going to eat some biscuits and gravy because you need some food. Have the suppressants bothered you at all?”

I shake my head. “No, just the whole revelation and the events of the night got a… physical reaction from me. The suppressants didn’t bother me at all, though, which is kind of surprising.”

Callum pops open the biscuit container, which makes me wince because I hate when those containers pop open. He lays them out on the sheet pan and sits on the counter while waiting for the oven to heat up completely.