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Stale walks up behind me, unlocks the cuffs, and then points at a chair "Have a seat, Ryler"

Rubbing my wrists, I drop my ass down into the chair

Stale slips off his coat, drapes it on the back of the chair, and sits down across froers near the doorith his arms folded

"Don’t worry, son You can trust us," Stale says for the umpteenth time as he rolls up the sleeves of his button down shirt

He keeps saying it as if it’s so easy to trust

It’s not

I know this way too well

Trust is rare

Almost unattainable

Stale slides his notebook and pen across the table toward lances at the scars on my throat, scars that tell the story of how I lost my voice Without my voice, I refuse to tell the story, refuse to let anyone kno it happened

Before he can ask anything, I scran: What’s this about? I shove the notebook back at Agent Stales

He collects the notebook, and his lips move as he reads what I wrote then his eyes rise to me "It’s about Donny Elder my reaction

I cross , "I’ my damn mouth for you"

Why would I? I have no idea what this is about, what they’re after If what I say could be incriain "We know you’ve been hanging out at one of the warehouses a lot lately, Ryler We’ve had reports that you’re there at least three ti about are owned by Donny Elderman and is exactly what it sounds like--a massive warehouse secluded out in the middle of the desert There are actually quite a fearehouses that he owns all over various states The larger ones are hidden in bare, untouched areas and surrounded by several of his h--to hide illegal activity A lot of gaal activities like drug trafficking and prostitution

When I don’t respond, Stale leans over the table and lowers his voice "Ryler, ant you to help us bring down the main warehouse"

The main warehouse is where Donny Elderman spends most of his tioes on in there All I know is that even theof the warehouses seems to terrify everyone