by Ella Miles
I breathe out with a shaky breath, but can’t force my lips to say yes.
“Is there a reason you are cleaning in the dark?”
The power is out.
I couldn’t find the light switch.
I prefer the dark.
So many lies fill my head. But none of them can flow through my lips.
“I’m not the maid. I came here to steal something of value I could use to get off this fucking island. Something you wouldn’t miss. Something I could use to start a new life.” Something to heal my pain and fix my problems.
The lights flick on in that moment, and I’m exposed. The lights shouldn’t make a difference, but they do. In the dark, I could have spilled all of my secrets but in the light…I want to close up every thought I have and hide them away from this man.
Julian Reed is well-known on the island. I’ve served him in bars where I worked as a bartender numerous times. But seeing him now, pressed against me, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, his hair slicked back, and his eyes focused on me and not some business deal he’s working on, I realize how intimidating a man he is.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
Lie.
Don’t tell him the truth. Keep all of your secrets.
I can’t lie, but I refuse to answer.
His eyes light up when he realizes this.
“You can’t lie, can you?”
“No…I can’t.”
He shakes his head as he brushes more of my hair off my neck, fascinated by me.
I’m silent. I can’t lie. Every time I try, my body or words betray me. Even if it could have saved me now. If I had just pretended to be the maid like he guessed, I would be safe.
“What’s your deal, pet?”
“Pet?”
He grins as he puts his hands in his pockets as if trying to make me more comfortable by preventing himself from touching me. I’m not falling for it. I know this man will hurt me before the night is over. He’ll rape me. Torture me. Kill me. Him putting his hands in his pockets doesn’t make him any less of a threat to me. I turn to face him.
“Yes, you are now my pet. Unless you tell me your name, and I like it better than ‘pet.’ Then I might call you by your name instead.”
My lips beg me to lie. To tell him any name. I don’t want him to know who I am, but I don’t want him to call me pet.
He cracks his neck back and forth casually, waiting for me to answer.
“You’re an intriguing creature, pet.”
My eyes burn red.
He laughs, and then one of his hands reaches out automatically.
“I’m going to enjoy you so much, pet.”
“No,” I whisper, trying to step back as his hand strokes my face, but there is nowhere for me to go. I’m trapped between him and the counter at my back.
I turn my head, trying to be as defiant as I can.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have broken into your house and tried to steal from you. Let me go. I’ll owe you. I’ll work for you for free.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Will you now?”
I nod, hoping to god he needs free labor more than he wants to do bad things to me.
“I don’t think you really have a say in the matter, pet. You broke into my house. You stole from me. Now you have to pay the consequences.”
“Are you going to call the police?”
He laughs. “No, pet. I’m not going to call the police.”
“What do you want from me then?”
“I want your fiery spirit.”
His eyes heat over my body.
“I want your perfect lips that can’t spill a lie.”
I gasp as his thumb traces over my bottom lip.
“I want to own your desperation.”
He spins me around, and then I’m facing the mirror again. His hand is on my throat and hip. And I’m pulled tight to his rough body.
I can’t breathe, but not because of how he is holding me. Because I’m waiting for the rest of his words to fall. I’m waiting to hear what my fate is.
“I want to harness you. I want to teach you how to use your assets to my advantage. I want to own your body. I want to control your mind.”
I’m never breathing again. Maybe if I stop breathing, I won’t live long enough for any of his words to come true.
“And what if I don’t do what you want?” I ask, with words bolder than I’m feeling.
“Oh, pet. I always get what I want.”
4
Zeke
There has to be a different way I can repay Julian.
That sentence has played in my head over and over and over. Every day of the last week, I’ve tried to come up with a different plan—a different way to pay him back.
He saved my life. I could save his.
But he never puts himself in any danger. I’ve never seen a leader of a criminal organization keep his hands as clean as he does. Instead of doing the dirty work himself, he always has his employees do anything remotely risky. And the few times he has to take meetings in person, he does it in his mansion, where I know he has plenty of security features.
My old boss was in the security business. I know security when I see it, even though his is well hidden. I can spot the cameras, the infrared, the panic buttons. I can spot the bulletproof walls.
Julian knows he has enemies. He knows he is exposed if he puts himself out there. So he hides. People know who he is, but he rarely shows himself in public. Somehow, that makes him even more powerful.
But it makes it very difficult for me to be able to save his life to pay him back.
I’m stuck in the horrible position of getting him a partnership with a man who traffics humans. And I don’t see a way out.
I could run away. Not repay my debt.
But Julian’s not the kind of man who lets a debt go. He would come for me. And in turn, he’d come for my boss. He’d come for the Black empire I’m desperate to protect.
No way will I let that happen.
But I really don’t want a permanent mark on my soul.
I step out of my beat-up truck and look up at the enormous warehouse sitting on the edge of the island. It doesn’t look like anything special. Just four walls with a tin roof. It looks like any other storage facility. But this one has one main difference. Instead of storing merchandise or supplies, this building stores people like animals.
“Ah, you must be Mr. Zeke,” a man says as soon as I step out of the car.
He’s dressed in a sharp-looking suit just like Julian. But unlike Julian, this man has a gut that sticks out, defeating the purpose of the suit. He looks weak, not powerful.
“It’s just Zeke. You must be Oscar,” I say as I walk to him and force myself to extend my hand.
He takes my hand and shakes it. And I can’t resist squeezing his hand a little too harshly.
He just grins at my forceful handshake.
“Mr. Reed has said many good things about you. He said you were his best up and coming man. That you could easily be his number two.”
I nod. “I’m the best at my job.” My stomach churns bile into my throat. I’m good enough to actually do this job; to convince this man that he should work with Julian and me. I have the skills to ensure shipments happen swiftly and accurately.
“Come, come. Let me show you around, and then we can talk business,” Oscar says, extending his hand to lead me toward the building I want to empty and burn to the ground.
I don’t smile, as opposed to the petite man as he leads me into the building, showing me around the building like he’s giving me a tour of the Louvre instead of where humanity comes to die. Good thing I almost never smile. Frowning feeds into my scary appearance. It makes me look more menacing.
Fuck, how did my life lead me here?
I’ve seen a lot of sinful shit in my life. I’ve seen more men killed in front of me, by me, than I ever thought I would. I’ve tortured people. Watched the life leave their eyes. I’ve known women who were ra
ped. But nothing in my life could prepare me for what I saw when I entered this building.
I could feel the fear, pain, and anger the second I entered the building. I have an uncanny ability to feel emotions emanating from nearby people. I don’t understand it. I can sense things others are feeling. I haven’t even seen another person so far on our tour, but I’ve never felt so much pain in one place before.
“This way,” Oscar says excitedly.
I glare as I follow the pudgy little man.
He opens the door, and I step through to a room I wasn’t expecting to see.
“What’s this?” I ask.
He grins like he’s about to show off the Sistine Chapel instead of his demonic headquarters. “This is where we hold our main event. We only hold an event here twice a year for our biggest clients who spend the most money. It’s an auction of sorts. We parade our best women in front of them, and the highest bidder wins the prize.”
A low growl escapes me as he speaks about selling women, but the asshole is too busy to notice as he gloats about how he turned this part of the warehouse into a fancy showroom filled with tables, bars, and a stage that shows off the women’s best assets.
“Why don’t you hold more frequent events here? That way, you wouldn’t need us to transport and sell your remaining women for you. You would get all the money yourself,” I say, hoping this man is just an idiot, and once I point out the obvious, he will have no need for us. Sure, I’ll fail the task Julian gave me. But maybe he’ll let me try again with a shipment of drugs or weapons, anything but people.
He sighs. “It would make business a lot easier. But it’s just not feasible. The richest people in the world come here for the event. It’s our biggest money earning night of the year. But we hide it under the guise of the weekend-long yachting event. That’s how we keep suspicions low. The men all stay at the Four Seasons, the luxury hotel where the event is held. They all attend, and then we sneak them here under the darkness of the night. Our little island would get too much press and attention if the richest in the world were all flying here on a monthly basis on the same weekend.”
I frown. “But this island is beautiful with plenty of luxury hotels. Why couldn’t you just house the women here, and when one of the buyers comes, bring them here individually to have their pick?”
“It’s too expensive to feed the whores while we wait for the men to come to us. And even though this is one of our most profitable nights, not all of the men can travel to us. Sometimes we need to go to them. Which is why we hire out. You take on all the risk, while we get all the reward.”
Tell me about it.
“So then why would we want to do business with you if we take on all the risk?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrow. “Because we aren’t the only ones who get a reward. If we strike a deal, then we split profits fifty-fifty. And the amount of money we pay is bigger than the petty little drugs and weapons Mr. Reed currently moves. This would put him on a whole new level. Supposedly, Mr. Reed is the best at transporting things while flying under the radar.”
“He is,” I agree.
“Well, that’s why you are here. To prove to me you can handle the job, not question why I run my business the way I do.”
“No, I’m not here to convince you of anything. You know of Julian’s reputation. You can see I mean business.”
He laughs. “I don’t believe anyone who shows up in ripped jeans and a man bun is serious about doing business with me. And I don’t think anyone who calls his boss by his first name respects him.”
I snarl, this time, he hears it. He freezes.
“I’m here to see if we can strike a deal. But I won’t let my boss enter a relationship with a man who is an inadequate business partner. I’m doing my due diligence.
“And if you don’t already think we are a good partnership for you, then you are an idiot. You didn’t choose our island for the scenery. You chose our island because of Julian. You knew he was the best at transportation. You need him; he doesn’t need you. He will be just fine without your business. And I respect Julian greatly. And he respects me, which is why we are on a first-name basis.”
Oscar’s eyes dart side-to-side as he takes me in—how fucking serious I am.
“Then he sent the right man. Because I don’t do business with desperate men, and that’s exactly what I thought Mr. Reed was when he called trying to get my business. You just changed my mind.” He turns to continue the tour.
“We want sixty.”
He pauses, his head swiveling to look at me.
“You heard me. We want sixty percent. And we want half of it upfront.”
He narrows his eyes. “The deal was for fifty-fifty. That’s my final offer. It’s the arrangement I have with all of my partners. I capture the women and hold them for no more than a week. Then you arrange deals with buyers and transport them. It’s a fifty-fifty arrangement.”
“No, it’s not. Finding sellers, vetting them, and then transporting the women takes a lot longer than grabbing them and holding them here for a week. We could have to hold onto the women for weeks, months even. We take on the risk of selling and transporting them to a client who could be working for the cops, while you sit back here protected from everyone.
“If we get caught, we go to jail. We lose everything. While you just lose your partner. We want a bigger cut—sixty,” I say, hoping this will ensure we don’t have a deal. If I push him hard enough, he will back down and say that he won’t do business with us. And if Julian asks, I can tell him I didn’t think it was a good deal because we deserved a bigger cut. And I’ll personally find him a deal that will make up for the lost income—one selling drugs, not people.
“You better be worth it, Zeke,” he says with a frown.
Dammit.
“Come on, let me show you where we store the women. Then I can see if we have a suit that fits you. You aren’t showing up for the biggest night of the year dressed like a bum.”
I frown. I’m not wearing a fucking suit. That is not my style. And I’m tall and bulky enough to know there is no way he will find a suit big enough to fit me.
I follow Oscar behind the stage, trying to prepare myself. But nothing could prepare me to see women in chains. And not the kinky, consenting kind. The kind no woman has the strength to break free from.
I prepare myself to hear begging, to see tears, but these women don’t look at me as their savior. They think I’m just like Oscar. They think I’m a villain that one of them will eventually be sold to. They don’t know I would never buy any of them. If I could, I would set them all free.
Instead, I look at hollow eyes, tight lips, and women trying to hide their bodies from my view.
“They are bewitching, aren’t they?” Oscar says, grabbing one of the women by the chin and lifting her face up to examine her like an animal.
I tense, but don’t react. How can this be real? How can people be this cruel?
“We already have a transporter for this group. But we will have over a hundred women for you in a few weeks.”
A hundred women—fuck.
“And then we will have a new shipment for you in three weeks after that if the first deal works out. So I suggest you move quickly.”
We will get another hundred women in less than a month—fuck, fuck, fuck.
We walk further down the hallway to where there is a large cage filled with twenty women. Each of them is shackled at their arms and legs as if they would have the strength to get through the metal bars holding them in.
“These are the women for tonight. The most beautiful, attractive high priced women we could find. Some are virgins; some are women from high-class families. All will go for more than a million a piece.”
Jesus Christ.
“But if Mr. Reed wants first pick, of course, that can be arranged for the right price. Take a look,” Oscar says.
I’m sick. I’m seconds away from puking up everything I’ve ever eaten. My face turns green, bu
t I’m not going to let Oscar know that. I don’t have a plan. Not yet, but I will.
I look over the women with a deep scowl, knowing I can’t save them. I can’t protect them.
I glance at the last woman, and my heart stops. I squat down in front of her, getting a better look at this exquisite creature.
The most alluring eyes look back at me. This woman isn’t scared. She’s full of fight. I see the wheels in her brain turning, determined to find a way out of this situation. She’s not going to go down without fighting.
But she’s going to lose. I know the amount of security Oscar has. I can’t save her. If I find her leaving, I will be forced to capture her and turn her back in. She needs to accept this is her new life. It will be easier for her.
But the fight in her eyes, long gone in the others, isn’t the only thing that makes me pause looking at her. There is something else about her. Something that has my brain spinning, trying its best to remember why I know her. A wash of déjà vu crashes through me when I look at her.
“Aww, this one is going to go for the highest price tonight, guaranteed. She’s beautiful and a fighter. The others are already broken. She’s going to make me a lot of money. I’d guess three million. The men prefer a fighter. They want to be the one to break a woman. And she is begging to be broken.”
“Where did you find her?”
“This one washed ashore during the last storm. The ocean finally gave us a gift for once.”
The ocean.
Julian didn’t pull me from the ocean.
This angel did.
Siren—that was her name.
I still owe Julian for getting me medical attention, but I don’t owe him as much as I first thought. Because Siren was the one who pulled me from the ocean. She stopped me from drowning. She put her hands over my wounds to keep me from bleeding out. She sang to me to keep me calm. She dragged my lifeless body to her car. She brought me to the only person on the island with the money and power to save me.
And what did the world give her for saving me? Imprisonment and the verge of being sold into sexual slavery.
She glares at me. She remembers me. And she hates me. She blames me for her predicament. And she thinks she saved a monster. She thinks I’m just like the men who took her.