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Prologue
Eight years ago
Aisla
Everything is dark around me. The only sound is the one coming from the chains around my wrists.
I involuntarily touch the key pendant draped along my neck, providing some semblance of comfort.
I’m cold. So cold.
My clothes are in tatters, leaving my skin exposed to their eyes.
They are coming.
I know they are.
They always are.
I don’t know where I am, and I don’t know how long I have been here.
I don’t remember much, but I know he drugged me before bringing me to this place.
I can only blame myself for it. I should have listened to Blakely when she told me my boyfriend was doing shady stuff. I should have listened to my brother when he told me this guy wasn’t for me.
I did none of it, thinking I was special. Thinking some drugs wouldn’t hurt anyone. I should have known better.
I know they will blame themselves, convinced they haven’t done enough.
But they did. They have been present for me more than they think.
My biggest regret is not telling them enough how much they meant to me.
And my sweet Bailey. I’m so sorry.
The doors burst open with a loud bang, and my body tenses up as Fergus and two other guys enter the room.
“My precious little thing is awake, I see.” He comes closer, which startles me.
“What do you want?” The words leave my mouth like venom, and hot tears stream down my face.
“Hush, that’s not how you speak to the person feeding you.” He gestures towards a plate with a slice of bread and what I think is a piece of cheese.
“Why am I here?” His predatory glare roams over me from head to toe, and I feel exposed.
“You see, my wee Aisla, the thing is, I owe a lot of money,” he starts.
“What does it have to do with me?”
“Oh, but you’re a fine piece of arse. I could sell it for a lot of money.”
My heart races as I gaze at him in shock. “W-what?”
“You heard me. It was fun while it lasted, and when my friend told me I could make big bucks selling your arse, you can bet I didnae think twice about it. I’m sure you could make someone very, very happy with that body of yours.” I press my back into the rough, cold surface of the wall as he approaches.
“You’re willing to sell me,” I say, my voice shaking with rage, “to pay off a debt to your drug dealer?” The weight of his statement hits me like a ton of bricks and leaves me reeling.
Panic sets in as I realise what is happening.
