He leaned forward, and I froze. I underestimated him. Because he brought us food, I stupidly thought he was nicer than the others, but he wasn’t. The same blackness lived in him, too.
“Follow.” He strode off, yanking the rope. My back arched with the pressure, forcing me to trot to catch up. I’d been demoted from human to dog with just one act.
Lowborn reactions rose; I wanted to growl and sink my teeth into his arm. If he wanted me to be an animal, I could be an animal.
The shower block disappeared as I padded behind by leash. Where the hell is he taking me? I squeezed my eyes closed. I didn’t want to know.
What if, now I was clean, they were going to rape me? Put me in some whorehouse and force me into a sea of chemicals and drugs. I’d never return to who I was. Never get free.
No!
I slammed on the breaks, digging bare feet into the floor. My toes ached as Jagged Scar slammed to a halt. My neck screamed as the rope pulled tight, choking.
“Move!” Jagged Scar glared, pressing his body hard against my towel-wrapped figure. My entire being rebelled at being so close, but I gritted my teeth. I wouldn’t step away in defeat. I wanted to hiss and head butt him, but I stood there, glaring into his endless black eyes, standing as regal as possible.
“No. I will not move. You have no right to treat me or the other women like this. Let us go.” My voice wavered with fear, my heart wild. I could lose my life by disobeying, but I couldn’t go down without a fight. I couldn’t give up so easily. I let my family walk all over me—I wasn’t about to let these bastards do it, too.
A gathering of shocked murmurs rose behind me. I glanced back, horror widening my eyes. My roommates were roped and standing in line, like sheep to the slaughter.
They were shoved out of the way as Leather Jacket stormed toward me. Jagged Scar dropped the end of my rope, stepping backward.
Oh, shit.
Ducking, I threw my arms over my head, trying to protect, but it was no use.
Leather Jacket threw me to the ground and kicked. His steel-capped boots cracked a rib as I collapsed under his abuse; the snap resonated, making me scream and curl into a ball.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even cry, the pain was insurmountable. Kick after kick. My br**sts, stomach, thigh, ankle. Each blow exploded with heat worse than the last one.
Another scream erupted as one kick caught my solar plexus, causing the towel to unravel. I was beyond simple agony. I was in hell.
He raged something in his native tongue, fisting a hand in my hair, pulling me upright. My skin puckered in terror as he pulled back, gaining momentum to slam my head into the wall.
“Basta!”
I knew that word. Enough.
Leather Jacket released me; I slumped to the floor. Every inch wailed with pain. The chill of wood against bare skin reminded me I was beaten and naked. So stupid, Tess. So, so stupid. You can’t win. Just give them what they want. I was worse off by disobeying: a shivering mess on the floor, incapable of anything but weakness.
Brax. How I wished Brax was here. He’d know what to do. How to keep me safe. I was such an ignoramus to think I could stand up to these men.
Who were they anyway?
I latched onto a word: trafficker. It blared like an angry hurricane, hurling me further into terror. As much as I wanted to deny the realization, I knew.
I was being trafficked. Me and these women were about to disappear around the world, exchanged for money, no regard for us as people—we were belongings.
I’d read enough horrible news to know the window of saving a smuggled woman was very short—only a few days before they were never seen again.
No one but my parents and Brax knew I was in Mexico. My parents wouldn’t know I’d ever gone missing—they never called or texted. It would be months before they noticed my absence. And Brax. My heart choked. Brax might be dead for all I knew. Dead and cold and blue under a man’s urinal.
The man with the scar shoved Leather Jacket away, reclaiming my leash. He tugged the rope, twinging my neck. “Get up.”
I wanted to laugh. He expected me to stand when my body was cracked and broken? The beating taught me something, though. Obedience was paramount. Nothing wrong in following orders if it meant I survived another day. So, even though it killed me, I fumbled to my feet.
Breathing hard, my entire body wanted to weep, but my eyes remained dry. These men didn’t deserve my tears.
Jagged Scar wrapped fingers around my bicep, holding some of the weight. He gave a lopsided grin, shrugging. “You can make this easy. It’s only temporary. Keep your fight for your new owner.”
My mind blanked with shock; I blinked. He confirmed my suspicions and I wished I was wrong.
Jagged Scar pulled me forward, both by his grip and the rope. Injuries screamed, especially the cracked rib, but together we shuffled down the corridor. The line behind started up again, each woman taken into a different room. Would I ever see them again?
Leather Jacket smirked as he opened a door, and Jagged Scar guided me inside. Just like the cell we lived in: a windowless room with only one door.
The lock clicking closed set off panic in my chest like an atomic bomb.
Everything about the space was non-descript, apart from the torture contraption in the centre of the room, half dentist chair, half gynaecologist table with stirrups and levers.
Beside it rested a stainless steel table full of instruments from my nightmares, all glinting wicked sharp under the huge spotlight hanging above.
My mouth snapped shut, and I huddled, trying to become invisible. Switch off, Tess. Disappear from this hell.
Needles, scalpels, glass vials full of crystal liquid, and leather straps heralded my doom as Jagged Scar pushed forward. I had no energy, zapped with pain, but I spun away. I couldn’t get on that chair. I couldn’t.
The rope around my neck squeezed tight, and I clawed at my throat with broken nails and anxious fingers. “No!”
Another set of hands from an unknown person wrapped around my nakedness and half-dragged, half-carried me to the chair. Together, they threw me on the squeaky, blood-stained leather and Jagged Scar went behind, jerking the rope, making me lie down or choke.
Skin stuck to the leather, making sucking sounds along with my panicked breathing.
The person who’d helped throw me on the chair appeared above.
My heart squeezed with indignation. A woman—young, cruel, with a glossy curtain of black hair framing her face. Her lips lined with early smoker creases, black eyes as vacant as the men. A surgical mask hung from one ear, and rubber gloves sheathed her fingers.