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My tormented mind tried to convince me that the worst was over—living in Vandalla, where girls and boys were raped daily and punished for fighting back, was worse than anything I’d ever go through again. But even while living in my bubble of hope, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that as bright white lights rained down on me in the black room.
My bubble had popped, leaving me unprotected here.
I hid my heavy breasts and nipples, hardening from the chill, from anyone who might be looking. The thick black collar around my neck shocked me, punishing me for shielding myself from pervy eyes. I clutched the collar, pulling the thick material from my skin.
The bolts of electricity shooting through my veins stopped when my hands left my body, parading it to the crowd.
I almost tumbled, but I picked myself up, not wanting to expose any more of myself to these sickos.
I straightened my back, my unruly waves tickling my lower spine as I walked, wobbling in my heels.
Bells rang out, the piercing noise reverberating out from different booths. I neared the end of the stage, glancing away from the closed-off rooms to scan the girls behind me. Three of the four were blonde, and the last, a timid brunette. I scanned them all, paying close attention to the middle blonde, her champagne hair cascading over what was no doubt a beautiful face with a terrified expression. A shock jolted her upright, her hands reaching for her throat like mine had, like mine were now, as another shock screamed at me to keep moving.
My neck burned with a red ring around it, still trying to strangle me. I didn’t reach for the collar this time. My heart raced, struggling to pump blood through my tortured, tired body, and both hands clamped over it.
And, despite the pain, it would have been worth it. Worth it, if that girl with the pretty blonde hair was my sister, but as she straightened her back and flipped her hair, strutting after me and the girl between us like she was some kind of injured catwalk model, I saw that she wasn’t.
She wasn’t my Rhylie.
I took the final step before stepping down from the stage, all the blondes following me. The bells got louder, and hundreds of bids were placed on us for far less than we were worth, because how could anyone put a price on a human life?
I ignored the bidding bells. I ignored the footsteps approaching me, too, spinning and stretching to see the brunette, who hadn’t followed us off the stage, collapsed in the center, in a heap, and crying for her mother. For her father. A man who clearly no longer lived on earth because her teary brown eyes looked to the ceiling.
My eyes glossed over, seeing her through cloudy vision.
A shock had her screaming, and it had me, regardless of all my own pain and inevitable punishments, wanting to rush to help her.
A hand clutched my wrist as I took the first step, wobbling on my stilettos. My ankle twisted, the bone threatening to break from its joint and through my skin.
The tight grip held on, and a gasp fell from my mouth as my eyes trailed from the fingers locked on my bruising wrist to the face of the Devil. He had the bone structure that made it obvious he was once the thing of dreams, but the scars of hell covering every inch of his appearance, proved to me exactly who he was.
My mouth hung wide, my jaw feeling closer to the floor than any other part of my body as he hoisted me back onto the six inches I stood on.
“Can’t have you breaking an ankle. You’ll be worth less.” His accent was thick. French. Something like Pencil Dick and Gold Teeth’s.
His words drew me to his lips before my gaze danced through the crevices on his face, taking in all the details. I swallowed down my fear.
Burned skin wrinkled around his mouth as a sinister smile revealed beautiful teeth.
“I got a good price for you, and I don’t do refunds.” He winked, hiding one of his beautiful green eyes.
I never saw them again, dipping my head. He didn’t care about that, enjoying the sight of me, meek and lowly, my head bowed to him. He flicked my hair, feeling the length between his fingers and frizzing it. “Your new master will be so pleased with you, little girl.”
My heart cracked.
The tears in my eyes—no longer for the girl on stage, getting manhandled and dragged down the steps but for myself—finally fell, running coldly down both cheeks.
The Devil clicked his fingers, and by doing so, another demon appeared in a cloud of smoke that blew out from his mouth and surrounded his entire existence.
It was a demon I’d met before.
A demon called Daniel.
My eyes stayed pointed to the dirt on his shoes.
Hate clouded around me. “Where is she?”
When he didn’t answer, my eyes roamed up him. His cashmere suit crinkled as he moved closer. I hated the suit. So expensive, it mocked me, knowing how he afforded it. I hated the cloud of smoke he blew at me, causing a sharp cough to shoot from my mouth as my lungs sucked it in.
