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A small pause before Selix added, “I get that you’re torn. That not going home feels like betrayal, but you’re doing the right thing. Stay the course. Fight the head. Ignore the fucking tail because you’ve got men to do that for you. Focus on getting your head on straight and—”
“My head is on straight.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Selix snorted. “The mood you’re in? It’s fucking getting on my nerves.”
A warning grumble came through the wall followed by Elder’s retort, “Well, that makes two of us.”
“What’s up your ass?”
“I’m fucked off because I don’t understand how they knew she was with me.”
“What?”
My forehead furrowed with the same confusion as Selix.
Elder said, “When I hacked into the Monaco police records, I wasn’t the only one who’d infiltrated her record. Someone else deliberately looked up her file.” A slight pause. “They didn’t use her name, though…”
“What did they use?”
“QMB.”
“QMB?” Selix asked.
“Quarterly Market of Beauties.” Elder’s voice turned dark. “The place where Pim was sold.”
No one spoke for a moment; my heart roared so loud it threatened to overshadow my ability to listen.
“Oh, shit,” Selix said. “You don’t think…?”
When Elder didn’t reply, my mind ran rampant with questions.
Think what?
What did the QMB have to do with the Chinmoku?
Why had someone else accessed my file?
Was it Monty?
Was someone still hunting me?
Was whoever in charge of the slavery auction hunting me down to silence me?
What?
Elder finally muttered, “What if the Chinmoku are the directors of the QMB?”
The question hung heavy and unanswered, winding around my heart.
Selix didn’t reply.
Elder answered his own pondering. “I always knew they were into trafficking. I was too young to fully understand how deep their ring went, but what if they know Pim was sold? What if they were the ones who sold her? What if they’re not only chasing me for breaking my oath but also chasing her to take her back?”
I stumbled away from the wall as a sudden vicious, vicious panic attack hit from nowhere.
The thought of unknown strangers.
A faction filled with heartless slavers.
Ripping me from Elder’s safety.
Selling me to yet another life of misery.
I almost passed out from sick, icy fear.
My heart stopped beating.
My throat closed up.
Elder and Selix continued to speak, but I couldn’t listen anymore.
I was seconds away from collapsing to my knees and having a full-blown relapse.
Using the wall as support, I half-stumbled, half-bolted toward the elevator. There, I punched the button while clawing at my throat for air as the silver doors slid open and I threw myself in.
Please, please, please.
Breathless, careless, I barely managed to press the floor number before my knees gave out and I landed on them with a painful crunch.
I didn’t know if the lift moved or if the doors closed or if I was still alone.
All I knew was Alrik
and classical music
and whips
and chains
and blood
and agony
and begs
and the knowledge that if anyone, anyone, tried to do that to me again, I wouldn’t hesitate to see how bad my fate would be.
I would slit my wrists, eat a bullet, jump into the vast, vast ocean and be done with it.
I would say no.
No to the Chinmoku.
No to evil.
No!
My lungs struggled to convert air into oxygen, granting a much needed gulp, mixing with suffocation. My back rounded as I landed on all fours, gulping for more, noticing tears dripped down my cheeks, landing on the floor. My recent bruises from Harold’s kicks and fists swelled into an orchestra of old injuries—reminding me all over again that just because I ignored the pain didn’t mean it wasn’t there…haunting me.
The elevator opened, revealing the rose-gold accents of my corridor, beckoning sanctuary.
Hauling myself to my feet, I swiped at the tears, opened my mouth wide for scraps of oxygen, and hugged myself as tremors and shivers added to the quick attack.
I thought I was through with them.
That every day away from such events patched up the final holes in my damaged psyche.
I hated that I was so weak the very thought of going back to where I’d come from was enough to shove me straight into suicide all over again.
I entered my room, closed the door, and collapsed on the floor against it. I gave into the sobs and allowed the rest of my attack to take me.
I wasn’t weak knowing I would rather die than survive that again. I was selfish because I understood what life and love should be like. I was grateful to have a comparison.
It wasn’t weak to know my limits.
It was strength because now I knew where the lines were drawn. How far I could be pushed and how far I could bend before I broke.
If what Elder suspected was true, I wanted every last Chinmoku to die the most horrific, agonising death. In a way, I wanted Elder to pay for the small part he’d played as their errand boy, no matter how young and naïve he was.
