Page 98 of Dominion’s Collar

I adjust my rearview mirror and check my face. Professional. Composed. A true-crime author arriving for a private research interview, nothing more.

The woman in the mirror looks like someone who does this for a living. She also looks like someone who hasn't slept a full night since she stopped wearing another man's leather around her throat.

Both things are true.

I gather my bag, my recorder, and my notebook. The recorder is real and visible and part of my cover. The notebook has prepared questions arranged in a careful sequence. Historical context first. The specific inaccuracy last. The one that will either confirm five years of work or blow the interview entirely. Rapier has people hidden throughout the building and across the street. The risk is controlled. The stakes aren't.

Claire's photograph is in my wallet. I slipped it in this morning. Superstition dressed as sentiment. My sister's face, younger than I am now, watching me walk into the building where the man I believe killed her has agreed to help with my research.

The lobby is bright, freshly painted over old wood. The event space is on the second floor, and the stairs are wide and newly finished. My heels echo against the treads. Each step is a sentence in an argument I've been building since Claire died, and the closing statement is waiting for me at the top.

Gaudet is already seated when I enter. He chose a table near the windows, where the light falls across his shoulders and makes him look approachable. Warm. Like a man with nothing to hide and all the time in the world to be helpful.

He stands when he sees me. The smile is genuine. That's the part that makes my stomach turn, and I smile back because this is what I do.

I interview people. I build rapport. I ask questions designed to make subjects comfortable enough to say things they didn't plan to say.

The fact that I want to break his jaw with my recorder is professionally irrelevant.

"Natalie." He offers his hand. "Thank you for reaching out. I've been hoping someone would take a serious look at Elysium's history."

"Prosper." The handshake is firm, dry. Decades of making people trust him in a single grip. "I appreciate you making the time. This chapter of the book has been the hardest to research."

"I imagine so." He gestures to the chair across from him. "Difficult history deserves careful attention."

I sit. Set up my recorder. Open my notebook to the first page of questions. The choreography is familiar. I've done this with dozens of sources across multiple books.

None of them murdered my sister.

None of them were this good at seeming harmless, either, which is saying something because I once interviewed a serial killer.

"I'd like to start with the community structure," I say. "How Elysium handled member safety."

Gaudet settles into his chair. He's comfortable here. This building wasn't a random suggestion. Everything about the offer was designed to look generous: the location, the flexibility, the willingness to accommodate.

What he actually did was select terrain he knows.

But Rapier surveyed it. A contact in the planning department gave them access to the blueprints. Cole walked every inch. Ezra checked the blueprints against the physical layout. Luc confirmed the exits. We accounted for what we could see. That should be enough.

"Elysium's safety protocols were progressive for their time," Gaudet says. He leans back in his chair. Relaxed. Open. He looks like he believes every word. "We had a mediation committee, incident reporting, regular reviews. I served on the committee for years."

"In what capacity?"

"Member support and incident mediation. When conflicts arose between members, or when someone had a concern about a scene or a partner, I was one of the people they came to." He pauses. The pause is calibrated. "I took that responsibility seriously. Still do."

"Can you walk me through how the booking system worked? For the private rooms?"

"Of course." He leans forward, helpful. "Members reserved rooms through a scheduling queue. Committee members with mediation roles had read access to the bookings, so we could coordinate around scheduled sessions if a conflict needed addressing. Standard administrative infrastructure."

I keep writing even though everything he's telling me matches Luc's research. The notebook is a prop. The recording is running. And in my ear, Luc says nothing, which means I'm on track.

We talk for a while. Gaudet is generous with detail, walking me through Elysium's governance and community dynamics. He talks about the people who built it with genuine fondness.

The fondness is real. That's the thing nobody wants to believe about predators. The man I believe killed Claire also loved the community that trusted him. Those two things coexist inside the same person.

If I think about that too hard right now, I'll lose the composure I need to finish this interview without vomiting on his shoes.

The conversation shifts toward the incident. Claire's death. Framed as one of several historical events I'm covering, not the centerpiece of my book. Gaudet's expression goes appropriately somber.