Broken Princess: Ruthless Rulers Book 3

by Hart, Stella

  Without waiting for a response, I pulled my phone out and pretended to dial a number. The guards exchanged nervous glances, and one of them finally held up a palm. “Wait, sir… it’s okay. I’m sure we can make an exception for Mrs. Thorne’s son.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “I really don’t mind calling her and getting her to come down here. She doesn’t hate the cold that much.”

  “No, it’s all right. Just go through,” he said, hurriedly stepping aside as the other guard fumbled with the lock on the gate.

  I gave them a thin smile and headed through. When I reached the other side, I turned around and snapped my fingers to get their attention again. “Look, I understand that you were just doing your job, so I won’t tell my mother about this trouble. Okay?”

  They both nodded, and the one on the right let out an audible sigh of relief. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  My promise to keep them out of trouble with their boss ensured their reciprocal silence about my arrival.

  When I finally reached the manor, I headed up to a side entrance and slipped inside, being careful to keep my head down in case my mother showed up somewhere nearby.

  Even though this place was obviously a viper’s nest, I had to admit it was beautiful. The hardwood floors in the passage stretching ahead of me were bathed in golden candlelight from the ornate candelabras that hung from the ceiling, and high windows with stained glass and oil paintings lined the paneled walls. An expansive foyer with marble tiles and a grand double staircase lay at the end.

  On one side of the foyer, there was a table with black and gold Venetian masks. I took one and slipped it on, grateful for the disguise. Then I ventured farther into the mansion, taking a right down a wide hall which seemed to run all the way through the ground floor.

  The doors around me were open and the rooms were buzzing with activity. Masked men in various states of undress were fucking or playing with submissive, smooth-skinned girls who looked like they were barely out of their teens. There were a few masked women there too, lying in the laps of naked young men.

  None of the naked young people in the rooms were smiling with pleasure or grimacing with pain. Instead, they were completely devoid of expression. Their impassive eyes stared ahead as they were fucked from behind or beaten with braided whips, like nothing was even happening to them. They weren’t making any noises, either.

  With my lips set in a grim line, I kept heading down the hall, deeper and deeper into the den of iniquity.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  I whirled around. A man in a suit was standing by an accent table with a polite smile on his face. “Can I help you?” he repeated.

  “Yes, you can,” I said, straightening my shoulders. “I’m here for the auction, but I think I’m lost. Can you take me there?”

  He frowned. “Sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

  I narrowed my eyes and let out a derisive snort, figuring I’d have to play the arrogant ‘do you know who I am?’ card again. “You must be joking,” I said, voice dripping with condescension. “Do you have any idea who the fuck you’re dealing wi—”

  The man held up his hands and cut in. “Please, sir, I didn’t mean any disrespect. I only meant that I can’t take you to the auction because it’s already ended.”

  “What?” My brows shot up. “It’s over?”

  He nodded. “Yes, sir. It ended a few hours ago.”

  My heart sank. I rubbed my chin and affected a mildly frustrated expression. “I see. I must’ve been confused about the time.”

  “That’s a shame,” the man said with another polite smile. “You can still participate in the parties, if you want. Would you like me to take you to select a girl or boy?”

  “No, thank you. I was only here for the auction,” I replied, chest tightening. “How did it go, anyway?”

  “Very well, sir. The girl sold for almost a hundred million dollars.”

  Jesus fucking Christ…

  I swallowed the hard lump that had formed in my throat. “That’s a spectacular price,” I said, arching a brow. “Who was the lucky man?”

  “I believe it was the Keshari Crown Prince.”

  “Ah, I see,” I said, nodding slowly. “I’d love to pay him a quick visit to congratulate him on the acquisition. Is he staying here at the mansion tonight, or did he head back to the resort?”

  “He actually left, sir.”

  My eyes widened. “Already?”

  “Yes. I believe he was quite excited to take his prize home. He took off on his private plane a couple of hours ago.”

  It felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over my head and shoulders, a paralyzing flood of pure fear that left me unable to do anything but stand there staring with my mouth open.

  “Are you all right, sir?” the man asked, forehead creasing.

  “I… yes. I’m fine. I’m just disappointed that I didn’t get the chance to see the auction or congratulate the buyer,” I said. “Are you absolutely sure they left?”

  “I’m afraid so,” he said, stealing my last fragment of hope.

  My mouth went slack as heat rose behind my eyelids. I mumbled something unintelligible to the man and stumbled back down the hall before ducking into the first empty room I came across. Then I crumpled to my knees and closed my eyes, chest shaking with violent shudders.

  I failed Willow.

  Again.

  She was probably halfway across the Atlantic by now, terror-stricken as the Crown Prince loomed over her with a sadistic gleam in his eyes. There was nowhere for her to run. No chance of escape.

  I was too late.

  10

  Willow

  I was stuck in a state between sleep and wakefulness; those fuzzy moments of confusion when your brain reboots and starts to tell you who you are and where you are after snapping out of a dream state.

  It was a blissful few minutes, my mind whirling through all sorts of scenarios in which I could be anyone, be doing anything, be anywhere in the world. Then my brain finally woke all the way up and told me none of it was true. I wasn’t a French archaeologist working on a dig in an imaginary crystal cave. I wasn’t an environmental lawyer campaigning on behalf of an endangered rainforest animal. I was none of the things I’d imagined.

  So who was I?

  A great wave of panic washed over me as I realized I had no idea. None whatsoever. I didn’t know where I was, either. All I knew was that I felt a crushing sense of fatigue, so intense I couldn’t even peel my eyes open. My limbs ached too, and there was a stinging pain on the side of my neck.

  I tried to move, but my body refused to cooperate. A singular word flashed in the front of my mind. Coma.

  Yes, that had to be it. Whoever I was, I’d been in a terrible accident and suffered severe head injuries. I could remember words and concepts, but my identity had been shattered to smithereens, extinguished from my brain.

  That meant I had to be in a hospital right now.

  I tried to concentrate on the smells and sounds around me to confirm that, but all I could hear was the low hiss of a heating unit. No voices or beeping heart monitors, and no scent of disinfectant in the air, either. I could feel a thick blanket pulled over my body, though. The fabric was luxuriously soft and smelled of rich, spicy cologne.

  It occurred to me that I might be in a hotel. Perhaps I was a rich heiress who attended far too many parties, and I was deeply hungover after a particularly wild evening. That made more sense than a coma. My head didn’t hurt that much, after all, and I couldn’t feel the cold, foreign sensation of a feeding tube in my throat or a drip in my veins.

  I saw a shadow behind my eyelids a moment later, and a deep masculine voice murmured somewhere close to me. “Are you awake yet, beautiful?”

  I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

  A hand started stroking my hair, slowly and gently. I stayed as still as possible and kept my eyes firmly shut as my body flooded with inexplicable terror. E
ven though I didn’t know who I was or how I got here, some primal part of me knew I should be afraid right now. Something about that voice…

  The man went on. “Don’t worry, you’re okay,” he said in a soothing tone. “I had to give you a strong tranquilizer before we left, but you’ll feel fine when it wears off.”

  I stayed frozen in place, silent and stubborn.

  Smooth fingertips went to my cheek, moving in soft little circles. “Poor Willow. I’ll let you sleep a while longer.”

  Something sparked in my mind at that, and a few key fragments of my identity flew back to me.

  My name is Willow Rhoades.

  I’m twenty-one years old.

  I live in Washington, D.C.

  What else made up my life? Was I a student? Did I have a job? Did I have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? I had no idea. Even though I could remember my name and age, my story was largely incomplete, like most of the pages had been ripped out.

  I saw shadows moving behind my eyelids again, and I realized the man was finally walking away.

  I remained in my spot with the blanket pulled up to my neck, brows furrowing as I tried my best to unearth the rest of my memories. Something dark was clawing its way to the surface. I recalled lots of voices, raised and excited, and some sort of stage with bright lights. Accompanying those fuzzy memories was an intense, bone-chilling sense of dread.

  Something very bad had happened to me.

  But what? When? Why?

  I didn’t know. My mind was failing me again.

  Shit.

  A golden dollar sign suddenly appeared in my mind’s eye, sending me spiraling into confusion all over again. Why a dollar sign? Was I supposed to buy something? Sell something? Was I having financial issues?

  Another memory crept back as the symbol kept hovering in front of me. My father sold me to a rival family. The Thornes. That had to be the bad thing I was starting to remember… and yet, something told me that it wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg.

  Sold, sold, sold. The word was taking up most of the space in my brain now, flashing like a big neon sign. With it came an overwhelming sense of urgency and anxiety.

  Finally, every single memory flooded back to me, making me feel like I’d been dunked in freezing water.

  I recalled the bright lights of the stage at the mansion, and the way all of those avaricious, predatory people stared up at me as they called out their bids. Bids for my ownership. Bids for my life. Then I recalled the auctioneer announcing my sale to Prince Darius of the Kingdom of Keshar for ninety-six million dollars.

  I’d actually met the Keshari prince a couple of times at state dinners thrown by my mother. While I always got a slight creepy vibe from him, I never thought he’d be the kind of guy who would throw away almost a hundred million just to defile the American president’s daughter. I suppose he could afford it, though. His family was worth billions, thanks to the oil and gas reserves in Keshar.

  The Keshari monarchy had also experienced a tense, rocky relationship with America over the last thirty decades, despite the outward appearances of civility and friendship, so that gave the prince some serious motive to take me.

  Tears gathered in my eyes as I pictured the life that lay ahead of me now. Constant pain. Torment. Misery. I would be pushed to the brink every day, and when death finally came, I would probably welcome it with open arms.

  A low, defeated moan escaped my mouth. At the same time, my eyelids finally fluttered open.

  I sat up a little straighter and looked around. I was alone in a lavish cabin on what appeared to be a private jet. That made sense. I remembered Jamie Torrance dragging me off the stage when the auction ended, telling me that the prince wanted to take me home immediately, and after that, I was taken into a small room for ‘flight preparation’.

  That meant handcuffs, a blindfold, a gag, and a hypodermic needle in my neck. Apparently, the prince and his entourage wanted as little trouble from me as possible during boarding, and those measures would ensure it.

  In a twisted way, I couldn’t blame them. If they didn’t drug me and restrain me, I would’ve fought them tooth and nail all the way up the ramp leading into the plane. Like Jamie said the other day, I was a wildcat.

  Wildcat and proud of it.

  Unfortunately, my claws would soon be clipped. Prince Darius would make sure of it.

  I heard a door slide open somewhere up ahead, and I squeezed my eyes shut again, heart racing. Loud footsteps echoed in the cabin. Then the silence returned as a shadow loomed over me.

  He was back.

  “Still asleep,” he muttered. “Ah, well.”

  I thought he would walk away again, but he kept standing over me, presumably interested in watching me and my phony slumber.

  Under his gaze, I felt terribly small and colder than ever before, even with the thick blanket covering my body. Despite all of the awful things that had been done to me over the last few months, I’d never known a terror like the one taking hold of me now.

  Please leave, a little voice whispered in the back of my mind. Please just let me have these last few moments to myself.

  The shadow finally vanished from my eyelids, and I heard more footsteps. Then the door up ahead clicked shut.

  I waited a minute or so before slowly opening one eye, just a crack. I was alone again.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned to the window on my left and quietly slid the window shade upward. Then I craned my neck and peered out into the darkness.

  We must’ve taken off fairly recently, because we hadn’t reached the maximum cruising altitude yet. I could tell from the sight of the red and green lights shining below; most likely ships on the ocean. If we were all the way up in the air, the lights would be much smaller specks, or I wouldn’t be able to see them at all.

  I closed my eyes again and slumped back into the buttery leather seat. All I could think about was the time I woke up on another private jet with no idea where I was or how I got there until Logan showed up to smugly inform me that he owned me.

  Back then, I thought that was the worst possible thing that could happen to me, even though Logan had made it clear that I would still live in the same city and see my friends and family again, once I was trained.

  How incredibly naïve of me to think that was as awful as life could possibly get. How foolish and ignorant. Things were so much worse now that I was on this plane instead.

  This time, I would never see anyone I loved or cared about ever again.

  This time, I was never going home.

  This time, I was going to find out just how bad life could actually get…

  11

  Logan

  I wasn’t sure how long I waited in that little side room, the sound of my heartbeat thrashing in my ears as I pictured Willow being shoved onto that plane like cattle onto a truck. The Kesharis were known for their poor human rights record, especially when it came to their treatment of women, so out of every single possible buyer in the world, Prince Darius was probably the worst Willow could have hoped for.

  Not that she should have been hoping for anything other than freedom.

  “Fuck.” I gritted my teeth and slammed my fist into the wall again and again. This was my fault. If I just got here sooner… did something different… tried harder…

  She could be free.

  I wouldn’t even care if she wanted to leave me afterwards and live alone in the middle of a jungle, just to escape the cruel reality of the world she’d lived in until now. All I cared about was her safety and freedom.

  Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. I would care if she left me, but at the same time, I knew she had every right to, and I would respect that.

  Now I might never get the chance to respect her the way she deserved, and it was all my fucking fault.

  I finally slipped out of the room and headed back down the twisted mansion’s ground floor hall. When I reached the guarded entrance to the tunnels, the white-clad guards left me alone, knowing bette
r than to bother the son of their employer.

  As I passed them, I wondered if they were even her employees. They could be slaves for all I knew, raised from the stock of trafficked babies my mother and her cronies traded in.

  Jesus, there was so much shit to unpack at this place.

  First things first, though. I needed to find a way to get Willow home before I could rest or worry about anyone else. She was my number one priority and always would be.

  I headed into the dank tunnel, keeping my mask on in case I ran into any other shadow council members on my way back over to the main estate. With every step I took, another crack appeared in my heart.

  I couldn’t get Willow off my mind. The thought of the defeat and terror she must be feeling right now chilled me to the bone, and the thought of that fucking man putting his hands on her sent rage tearing through my veins like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. Even the thought of him looking at her made bile rose in my throat.

  By the time I reached the main tunnel, I was so fired up that I couldn’t even feel the cold anymore. I was wrong when I thought it was too late. I wasn’t going to give up on this rescue mission. I couldn’t. As long as Willow was somewhere on this planet, I would find her. Save her. Worship her.

  The Kingdom of Keshar wasn’t exactly a tourist destination, but they still accepted foreign visitors, especially those with money. It wouldn’t be too hard for me to make my way there. The hard part would be figuring out a plan to get Willow the fuck out of the prince’s insanely fortified palace.

  I’d get it done, though. Failure simply wasn’t an option. Even if I had to kill a hundred men around the palace, I’d do it for Willow. I’d do anything for her.

  I finally reached the main tunnel exit and ditched the mask before striding back up to the resort. When I arrived at my suite, I was surprised to find the white barn doors which separated the room into two sections wide open. My father was wide awake and sitting on the couch in my section, forehead wrinkled as he stared down at his cell phone.