Chapter 11

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“I want to go home. I want to go home.”

The mantra filled the cells for hours and there was no stopping it. The words could have come from my own mouth, but they weren’t. They were coming from the girl who shared a room with me. Over and over, she cried and begged.

“I’ve told you, this is your home now.”

“No,” she sobbed. “I want to go home.”

“The sooner you accept that you have no home anymore, the easier this will become. Trust me, you’re only making this harder on yourself.”

Bloodshot green eyes stared at me as I paced. The redhead’s lip quivered and her balled fist rose to her mouth. The desperate sound that came out had me slowing. “They put something inside of me. T-they did something to my insides. I hurt.”

I frowned. I knew what she was referring to. My Master talked about the changes plenty when they’d discovered the new ways. “It’s a type of hysterectomy. They do it to all of us. No periods, and no pregnancy. You’re lucky, and you’ll be thanking the heavens for what they’ve done when you get your master. Besides, your procedure is new. I have the scar on my stomach to show what I went through. You got it the easy way.”

“Hysterectomy? But … I’m only eighteen! If I get out of here, I won’t be able to—”

“You’re not leaving,” I stressed. “It’s impossible. I’ve been here for fourteen years. If there was a way, do you not think I would have found it?”

The crying grew louder and I closed my lids, trying to calm. I had no right treating her so coldly. Truth was, I was on edge. The louder she cried, the more attention she was drawing from the guards.

I walked over, sitting on the edge of her bed. Her short red hair was chin length, just as mine. She wasn’t beautiful, but her dark green eyes made up for her commonly face. They were speckled with yellow, capturing attention, which might not be a good thing.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I know you’re scared. So am I. But I’ve been through this before. I know things.”

The sobs died out as her attention focused. “What sort of things?”

I paused. “What’s your name?”

“J-Julie.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Your new name. It’s a number.” I pulled down the white shirt I wore, exposing my cleavage. The tattoo was small, but couldn’t be mistaken. Her lip trembled as she tugged at the collar of her own shirt.

“Twenty-six-nine-seventy-five. That is your new name.” She sobbed, wiping back the tears as she let go of the shirt.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

Her head did a quick shake. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything. We’re slaves of anything our Masters want. Anything. And you’re in the same predicament as I am.”

“What do you mean? Masters? Who are these men?”

“They’re the rich, the famous. The ones who can afford to buy us.” Something flashed over her face. Something I couldn’t understand.

She didn’t seem so afraid suddenly. She seemed intrigued.

“Our prices will be lower than most of the girls. That’s not good, but it doesn’t have to be bad. There are men here who are just looking for sex. For a woman to do things that maybe they can’t find out there. My best advice is to catch the attention of an older man. The older, the better. In my experience, they can be gentler.”

“Old?” Repulsion swept over her face. “If I’m going to be bought, I don’t want some old man.”

“You don’t understand. Most men here are cruel. They do things to the girls that you can’t even imagine. Yes, some of the older ones do those sort of things too, but in my experience, it’s the younger ones who are more … out for blood. With the money they have, they aren’t incapable of finding a woman on the outside world. What they want here is what they can’t legally have out there. Do you understand? They want to hurt you.”

“Blood?”

Again, fear. Good.

“Some men will pay a lot of money just to slice open your skin. To kill you. Do you want a younger man who enjoys death, or an older, nicer one who may beat you on occasion, but takes great care of you?” At her silence, I rolled my eyes.

“I’m trying to help you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because you don’t know what to expect. This isn’t a game. You’re not going to wake up one day and have men bursting through the door to rescue you.

No one is coming.”

I stood to start pacing again, freezing as my eyes met with a pair from one of the guards. He was staring through the small window in the door. Up and down he traveled over my body. I couldn’t help but jump when a hand grasped mine.

“Who is that?”

“Just a guard,” I said, quietly. “Don’t look at him.”

I turned, facing her as I stole another glance. He was still there. Still watching.

“They’ll be here for me. Not you. Don’t be afraid. They’ll know you’re still healing. They’re forbidden to touch you until … after.”

“Touch me?”

I took a deep breath, stealing another look. He was gone, replaced with someone else. Someone who left me shaking even more.

“Shit.”

“Who’s that?”

The interest in her tone had me wanting to shake her. She was so naïve. So unaware of how this place worked or how the people who resided here acted. A handsome face only meant one thing at Whitlock—pain, and possible death. The better looking, the more dangerous they were.

“That’s Mr. Whitlock. This fortress belongs to him.”

The door opened and I took a deep breath as he stepped in. The way his stare was narrowed, the guilt left me swallowing. He knew.