More than she’d hated the people who kidnapped her. More than she hated the men who had trained her and prepped her for sale. More than the four men she’d belonged to in the years that had passed.
He had no right to be nice to her when he had stolen her choices from her.
“Breathe, babydoll, just breathe for me,” the man continued, and she was moved again. Rolled onto her back against her will, the movement seemed to make her eyes pop open.
She hadn't even known they were closed.
Rage simmered beneath her skin, she didn't care who these people were, didn't believe their lies, and had no intention of trusting them. If she had the strength to do it, she’d kill every single one of them and not feel a drop of guilt about it.
“Everything is going to be okay,” the man leaning over her said. Those ridiculously stupid words, possibly the most idiotic she’d ever heard, stoked the fires of her rage, and she lifted a hand and slapped away the one he had resting on the top of her head, his fingers brushing almost hypnotically across her forehead.
For a second, the man’s eyes widened, and she braced herself for his returning anger, but instead of screaming at her, hitting her, or reprimanding her in any way, a huge grin suddenly broke out on his face, and he laughed.
Actually laughed.
Not a slight chuckle, but a full-on head thrown back, belly laugh that rumbled through the otherwise quiet night.
Was this man as crazy as she was?
“There’s my girl,” he said when he calmed down enough, and his hand rested on the top of her head again, ruffling her hair this time.
Definitely crazy.
She wasn't his, and she didn't like him saying she was.
Didn't like him touching her either.
When she lifted her hand, intending to slap him away again, he merely grinned at her and removed his hand.
“Got it, no touching,” he said, his voice strong and sure, confident, secure in the knowledge that he had the upper hand and held all the power.
He wasn't wrong.
What power did she have to save herself? Her one chance at freedom at the bottom of the ocean had been snatched away from her, and she was furious about it.
“Not that I want to make you angrier, babydoll, but we need to get you out of here, and unless you're going to cooperate and come with us, there’s going to have to be a little touching.”
Of course, there was. This man—thesemen,because she could see all six of the shadowy figures circling around her—would touch her however he chose. He could have sex with her, she was too weak to fight him off, and she’d been trained not to resist anyway. He could kill her if he wanted, but she knew she wasn't lucky enough for that outcome.
“I know you still don’t believe me, but we are not going to hurt you. We are going to get you the hell off this island, and once you tell me your name, we’ll find your family and make sure they know you're okay.”
When the man paused, Maya knew she was supposed to offer up a name, but she couldn’t do it.
It had been too many years since she’d last spoken a word, and she had no intention of changing that. She didn't believe these men would take her home, and even if they did, she didn't want to go home. That part of her had died a long time ago, and she’d made her peace with letting them go, recognizing that after what she’d been through, there was no going back.
Since she didn't offer up a name, the man nodded to someone else, who moved in closer.
Panic flared to life inside her, but she was too slow to react.
Missed her opportunity.
“Sorry,” the man whispered as he grabbed her and held her down while someone else stuck her with a needle.
Whatever was inside it acted quickly. Her body grew heavy, her mind grew lighter, and as she slipped into unconsciousness,Maya tried to prepare herself for whatever horror she would wake to.
Chapter
Four
