The double doors slid open silently in the background. He barely heard it, but the high heels certainly got his attention.

“Ah,” M began. “Right on time.”

“I would not miss this for the world,” Quinn said.

He fought against the shiver running down his back. He turned himself just enough to get a view of her and that big wide grin. It was clear this had been planned, and Quinn opted not to inform him of it.

While R eyed him with a narrow gaze, it was M that smiled. Although it was so slight that I may as well have been a case of indigestion.

“Her profile on OnlySade indicates that she’s a natural submissive,” M said. “We believe that she is your leverage.”

From his point of view that was akin to asking him to beat an old dog and use that pretext to get inside the owner’s home. The fact that there was merit in leveraging Éveline caused the contents of his stomach to tumble.

He was starting to wonder if L was a subscriber. Briefings like these were usually far less explicit and to the point. Somehow none of the letters appear to be bothered by the footage shown. Just me?

“We believe that’s how Éveline met Tessa,” L droned off.

“Sir,” Smythe said. “Is there a point to this?”

Smythe was not surprised, Éveline was like a meteor crashing to Earth. The only way to stop her from getting this way is to inject yourself in her life when she had a chance. You’d have to actually be there for her.

The screen transitioned to a new shot, this time it was of a page profile. Until now he had never even heard of OnlySade but could guess who the clientele was. On the front page there were a half a dozen shots of Éveline in various poses and fetish gear most of which he often associated with what they would find in a third world despot’s dungeon. Front and centre was someone paddling her behind to the point of leaving vicious welts, all the while she was bound in chains to something that looked like a sawhorse.

The image changed again, showing the woman again. This was clearly a mugshot, and by the looks of her she was barely aware of where she was. Those green eyes were glassy, vacant, eyelids droopy, and face neutral. That bruising and torn skin around her left cheek was also very telling.

“She has an extensive criminal record, both before and after reaching the age of majority,” L said. “Prostitution, solicitation, living off the avails of prostitution, public indecency, petty theft, and the occasional assault charge. She spent a year in juvie, but that did not alter her trajectory.”

“Éveline Fortin,” L said in a mangled French. “19 years old, foster child, who made it to grade 8 before dropping out and turning tricks.”

While L’s choice of words was a bit colloquial for his tastes. This certainly painted a grim picture of the woman. A lot of kids were ground up by the very gears of the bureaucracies that were meant to protect them. It looked like this one not only slipped through the cracks but never found her way out of the bottom. She’s still in freefall if she gets involved with a crime syndicate boss.