The remaining men backed out of the room, pointing guns until the lock snapped securely.
I spun slowly in the centre of the dungeon, looking wide-eyed, at the women. Some held sheets to their throats, some gawked open-mouthed.
What did they see when they looked at me? A feral woman who signed her own death sentence, or a fierce warrior who saved herself from rape?
The pretty Asian girl with long black hair, dropped her sheet and clapped. “I’ve wanted to do that since they stole me from the nightclub with my friend.” Her voice trembled but the glint of fire in her eyes reminded me of myself. “We’ll be free again,” she added.
I stared, startled and silent, as a voluptuous black girl joined her clapping. One by one, the ladies clapped and smiles stretched unhappy faces.
One by one, fire lit in their gaze.
One by one, they rallied, and I knew we wouldn’t be passive anymore.
We were right, and they were wrong.
Righteousness would set us free.
* * * * *
The next day, I was taken by rope leash to shower again. I’d learned to live with the pain in my joints and muscles—they reminded me of victory, not weakness. A badge of honour.
Once I was clean, Jagged Scar pulled me down the corridor and up a flight of stairs. This part of the house, factory, trafficker hotel—whatever it was—was different. Ugly artwork graced the walls, and the room he shoved me into was a normal study. Glass windows with an industrial view, a desk, chairs, and a man reclining, stared at me.
He was as white as me with blond hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes—the same bright blue as Brax.
My heart twisted.
Jagged Scar forced me into a chair, but I never took my eyes off the man in a business suit.
“Who are you?” I rasped.
The man narrowed his eyes, placing palms on the desk. Jagged Scar retreated to lurk by the wall. Tingles of fear darted down my back, but I refused to bow to terror any longer. I’d drawn blood—that counted for something.
“I’m the man who holds your fate in his hands.”
“I’m the only one who owns my fate. Not you. Not your guards. Not your sick operation. No one.”
He chuckled. “Ignacio was right. You’re a fighter.” He leaned forward, twirling a pen. “Being a fighter is what gets you killed. You should let go. Let us guide you.”
Ignacio? Was that Leather Jacket? I twitched in anger. “Let you guide me to my death by rape and mutilation?”
He leaned back as if I slapped him. “Stupid girl. If you behave, you will be sold to a gentleman who will treat you like a prized possession. Lavish attention on you. Buy you whatever you want.”
My mind ran crazy. I was right. I was to be sold into sex slavery, into bondage.
“I am nobody's possession.”
He shook his head, smiling. “Ah, but you’re wrong. You already are. Sold. Contracted. The deed is done.”
My heart tried to claw its way out of my throat, but I sat frozen, brave. “You won’t get away with this.”
He stood and threw a package into my lap. I caught it on reflex, horrified to find my photograph on a fake American passport, and papers written in Spanish.
“Already have, pretty girl.” He came to the front of the desk, stopping in front of me. He trailed fingertips along my cheek, just as gentle, just as adoring, as Brax used to. “What is your name?”
“You’re not worthy of my name,” I snarled, trying to bite his fingers.
He stepped back, laughing. “Well, I hope you are worthy of the client who bought you. I don’t do refunds.” He nodded at Jagged Scar, who’d snuck up behind me. “Do it.”
My world ended as hands smothered my face, pressing a rag, reeking of chloroform against my nose and mouth. I tried not to breathe, fought to get free, but the fumes stung my eyes, entering my bloodstream.
A fog descended, whispering and stealing.
Unconsciousness claimed me.
Chapter 7
*Nightingale*
My ears popped on descent.
I instantly recognised the hum of aircraft engines and gentle thrum of metal. I’d been on a plane only a week before. Had it been a week since I’d been a prisoner? It felt much, much longer. I’d changed so much. My life no longer evolved around exams and when I could get Brax naked. Now, all I focused on was survival.
The black hood rested over my head, and I tried to remain calm. Freaking out wouldn’t help.
My ears kept popping as the airplane left the clouds, returning to earth. Where was I? They’d given me a passport for a reason, so I must be overseas somewhere.
Time ceased to have meaning as we landed, then taxied a fair distance. Finally, the engines ceased and abrupt silence hurt my ears.
As I sat there, with hands bound and head aching from being drugged, I mentally prepared for the worst. The next stage of my new life. I had to protect myself. Be ready to fight and run.
I couldn’t think about regrets and my past. I couldn't think about Brax.
And I definitely couldn’t think about what was in store for me.
A sad smile graced my lips. If someone asked a week ago what I was most afraid of, I'd have said crickets. Those damn flying grasshopper creatures scared the bejesus out of me.
Now, if someone asked me, I’d say three little words.
Three little words that terrified, stole my breath, and made my life flicker before my eyes.
Three little words:
I was sold.
Noise.
The cargo door of the airplane opened and footsteps thudded. My senses were dulled, muted by the black hood, and my mind ran amok with terror-filled images.
Male voices argued and my arms were wrenched painfully as someone pulled me to my feet. I flinched and cried out, earning a fist to my belly. The blow landed on a particularly tender part, and suddenly, everything was too much. I’d been so strong and it hadn’t changed my future. Tears streamed down my face. The first tears I shed, but definitely not the last.
The wetness on my cheeks wasn’t cleansing, it made me feel worse.
A cold wind whipped, disappearing up the baggy brown sweater I wore. Icy fingers of winter said I was no longer in Mexico.
I kept moving until one set of hands released and another set secured me tight, dragging me against a hard torso. “This is for Mr. Mercer?”
“Sí. Our boss hopes he enjoys this one. She’s got spirit. He should have fun breaking her.”
My stomach twisted, threatening to evict empty contents. Oh, God.