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But it wasn’t a movie. It was a livestream of a beautiful redhead chained up and being raped by three men.

Still invisible, I stepped closer to Patrick and narrowed my eyes at the screen. My heart leaped into my throat. It was Severin’s fiancée—maybe his wife by now. Neeve Callahan, the Irish mafia princess.

Every muscle in my body stilled.

The sick and hateful part of me wanted to leave her to her fate, but the better half of me prevailed.

Dammit. I needed to find a way to rescue her.

A tear slipped down my cheek as the truth settled in. My revenge would never be enough.

I had to save the other Forgotten.

I needed to give them back their names and lives. Before they were murdered like me.

I swallowed hard.

This changed all of my plans.

Patrick wouldn’t die tonight. To save my ex-boyfriend’s fiancée, I needed this fucking man.

I drew the knife from my thigh holster and materialized, pressing the blade against his throat.

“Where is she?” I demanded, my voice seeping with darkness.

Patrick’s eyes widened. “I don’t know.”

The blade bit into his skin, drawing a bead of blood. “Liar.”

“We only know where they’re held once we rent them.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Then rent her,” I snapped. “Because we’re going to get her.”

“I can’t afford to rent her like that.” His gaze shifted to the screen. “I’m only allowed to rent girls on marathon days. I’m not high enough in the Order for more.”

“When is the next marathon day?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“In five weeks.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. Five weeks was far too long, but without Patrick, I had no way to find her, let alone reach her. “Then do it. Tell them you’re bringing your girlfriend. It’ll be our first date, Patrick.”

I patted his cheek condescendingly.

Five weeks later, I sat beside Patrick, our hands bound and black hoods covering our faces. They escorted us first to an armored SUV, then onto an airplane, and finally into another car. After fifteen hours of travel, we arrived at the compound where they were holding Neeve.

We kept our hoods on until we were inside, but from the god-awful heat and gritty dirt beneath my feet, I knew we were somewhere in the desert. The smells confirmed it. Dry sagebrush, juniper, and that unmistakable mineral scent of parched earth.

Stepping one foot in front of the other, I was being led back to my prison. Only this time, I returned as the monster, not the Forgotten.

Acid singed my throat.

Every breath I took felt too shallow, but no one would see me struggle. I swallowed the tears threatening to spill, refusing to give these villains another ounce of my pain. No. I'd paint the walls with their blood instead.

The guards ushered us into our seats. You'd think the room would be more comfortable, considering how much these men were paying to use these women. Instead, we got fold-out chairs… some of the most uncomfortable I'd ever sat in.

When we were finally settled in, a guard hooked his fingers beneath my hood and pulled it off. Light accosted me. I blinked once, then again, struggling to adjust.

Concrete surrounded us and was suffocating.