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His eyes narrow on me, and he smirks. “Home, huh?”
“Where are we?” I sob. “Please…help me out of here.”
“You must be one of Aleksei’s new girls. Is that right?”
“No, please,” I cry out, taking one step back and pretending I want to leave. “Don’t bring me to him.”
He grabs my upper arm violently. “No one’s helping you out of here. Now walk.”
I lower my head, my hair covering my face, and can barely stop the smile that attempts to spread on my lips.
This man sees me in the same light everyone does. The cute, innocent girl he desperately wants me to be. Little does he know I murdered my ex-fiancé for abusing me. There’s a demon inside me that’s been hungry for years before I stabbed Conor countless times. And now she’s insatiable.
He drags me to a mansion and passes me over to another guy. “She’s Aleksei’s. Must have attempted to escape when this whole mess started.”
The other guard growls something and grabs me by the hair. “You new?” he hisses at me with a Russian accent, looking me up and down.
“I want to go home,” I sob.
“I show you new home.”
He drags me along endless hallways, going up a flight of stairs and then in front of a steel door.
He pushes the door open and shoves me so hard I almost fall down the stairs.
“Come on, hurry.”
I miss the last step and catch myself against the wall.
“In there.” He shoves me again.
My stomach recoils when I see the five girls in worn-down sweatshirts and sweatpants. There are six single beds, three aligned against opposite walls.
“What is this place,” I breathe out. This is not pretending anymore. Who keeps women in these conditions just so he can use them for his own pleasure?
“New home.” This time he pushes me hard enough for me to trip and fall on the dirty floor.
I wince and turn around so I’m on my back.
He squats beside me and rips my shirt some more. “No need for this. Aleksei will come to join you, girls, while we clear the compound. Got it?”
There’s a widespread fear that settles within the group. He gets up and leaves us.
I turn to the girls right away. One of them must not be older than ten and my heart skips a beat.
“I’m Rachel,” I tell them. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
None of them react. They just go back to whatever they were doing—reading, playing a board game, sewing a hole in a sweatshirt.
The youngest one comes to me and gives me a lopsided smile. “I’m Juliette. Don’t mind them. You’re not the first one who came in here and said that. Yet, here we are.”
She gives me a gentle, reassuring squeeze on my upper arm. “It’ll be hard at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
My throat clogs. I know I’m not staying here, and Iamgetting them out, but the fact that they all have accepted that this was their new life breaks my heart.
“Do they lock the door?” I ask.
“No,” Juliette shakes her head.
