by Elena Monroe
“I wish I could tell you all the ways they fucked me up. All the ways they buried your version of me and didn’t tell me where so I could dig it back up before this day came. I don’t know that I’ll ever be that person again for you. I think you’d understand, pretty sure they buried those parts of you too. I’ll hold onto what I remember if you hold onto the parts of me you remember. Maybe that can be enough... remembering, until it sticks,” his voice was somber and pulling every heart string when a single tear glided down my nose as I pretended to be asleep so he wouldn’t have to talk about it more.
His thumb brushed away the tear before whispering, “I can’t chase the bad dreams away but know I have them too. Haunted by the people we used to be.”
Too bad he didn’t realize I was mourning his confession that my Bowen was dead and buried.
BOWEN
Chevy was already behind her desk, boots kicked up, wearing a Harley Davidson shirt cut below her tits with ripped jeans and a flannel tied around her waist like always. “Donte called twenty times and it’s only eight o’clock.”
Her sassy ass tone wasn’t lost on me as her annoyed eyes landed on mine. Pushing my flat hand to my chest, I feigned some kind of giving a fuck that I never felt. “Oh my god, Chevy. Are you okay? God, doing your job for an hour is hard.” I didn’t stop at her desk when I kicked open my office door.
Slumping down into my office chair, I turned on my computer, ready to kill the hours I put in here so I wouldn’t have to bring any work home. I needed shit to stay here. I wasn’t adding more demons to my roster.
Looking up, I saw Chevy completely turned around with her middle finger in the air and a scowl that could have melted the skin right off my bones. We had a mutual kind of hatred towards each other that kept a wall between us.
Unlike the other girls who had worked my desk, Chevy didn’t warm up to the idea of Stockholm syndrome. Chevy stayed cold and distant, using her middle finger as her favorite response.
I appreciated it.
It would be a sad day when I hand over her new ID and debit card, you know, if I had a heart that cared.
“Get back to work, Chevy!” Shouting through the open door, I pressed Donte’s contact and the speaker button before dropping my phone down on the desk.
Pouring myself a few fingers of Henny, I listened to the grating ring until he picked up with his gruff voice. “Finally at work, sunshine? We have a problem with the shipments from Denmark and Germany.”
I stopped lifting the glass to my lips at his words, knowing today was about to go up in flames. When there’s an issue in my department of the Clave, it’s an issue only fixed with blood.
The thing about blood is, it doesn’t just soak through your shirt, it seeps down into your soul.
“What’s wrong with Denmark and Germany?” I knew the girls came from all over, but hearing Denmark only brought Eve to mind and it left a bad taste in my mouth.
“Romeo isn’t cooperating. He’s making demands, and I don’t call the shots on the money, only the pussy.” Donte’s voice was rough and full of grit the way you’d expect someone to sound when they walk a path of darkness instead of light.
I was part of a vicious cycle, a cog in the machine, the guy approving shit behind a desk when I had first-hand knowledge.
“Give him whatever he wants.” I coughed around my words, trying to cover up any emotion leaking out.
My hands were tied, people got whatever they wanted from me because I was the only one advocating for these girls. I was the only person standing between this being ugly and turning vile.
I kept things ugly because I know what it’s like to survive vile.
Looking up at Chevy on her phone with her boots once again kicked up on the desk, I couldn’t help but see the features that reminded me of Eve. Nothing else resembled her, they were two very different people, and her attitude was as sharp as a damn knife.
I was always saving anyone who resembled Eve and Chevy was just one of them.
Two months ago
I always stood in the shadows, hood up and low, making sure to cover my face whenever I showed up to oversee shipments.
Of people, not things.
I was truly there to be the buffer for anyone mishandling the product—the girls—which boiled down to Donte. He was as gentle as a fucking loaded gun aimed at your temple with a finger squeezing the trigger.
Most nights the girls were scared, shaking, and already broken. Most nights were repetitive, and I would hide in the shadows waiting for something to go wrong.
Chevy was a wrench in the machine, blending in until she didn’t. She waited for the perfect moment to lash out, using her tied hands as a fucking mallet against Donte’s tight grip.
I perked up, watching the raven-haired beauty fight back in all the ways I didn’t when I was in her place.
She was too small to actually overpower anyone when Donte’s hand wrapped around her throat, pinning her against the van, forcing me to step in. Her eyes shined in the dark, and the gleam almost touched my soul.
Almost.
My soul was impenetrable; it was a nice try though.
“Let her go. I’ll handle her,” I said it from the shadows, taking small steps forward until Donte’s anger unlatched from her throat.
I was above his pay grade. He was the muscle, but I was the funds.
Wrapping my fingers around the handcuffs, I could see her body shaking in the dirty clothes she must have been wearing for a week by the smell of her. Walking forward, I dragged her behind me to my office before I offered her the same kindness I had given countless girls before her.
My cage or Donte’s heavy hand.
They always resembled Eve in the way my mind had pictured her all grown up.
Now I didn’t need to wonder, I had been courting Eve for a year, but it didn’t change anything when I didn’t know my Eve anymore.
All I knew were these girls who looked just as broken as Eve did when she was dragged away to Denmark.
Chevy wasn’t the first girl I saved. I never noticed, but Donte started to see a pattern that I took a liking towards raven hair and bright eyes.
Scrubbing my hands over my face, I threw my phone across the room, watching it hit the wall with so much force that Chevy snapped upright with a terrified look taking over her normal scowl.
Standing up, she stepped over the threshold dividing us and walked over to the bar cart that wasn’t for show—it was used plenty, and Chevy replaced the bottles almost daily. Dropping another glass next to mine, she pulled the cap off and poured two shots.
She was too smart for her own good.
She knew more than anyone by eavesdropping, playing dumb, and studying me in ways no one else did.
Chevy saw something other than the demon.
“Rough morning, boss?” She offered some kind of comfort, but the drink was enough. She hated Donte as much as I did.
If anyone earned a spot in my mangled heart, it was Chevy. She deserved better as much as Eve did, but I had no choice in condemning her soul. At least I could save hers.
Get her out before I have enough courage to burn it all down.
“Just close the door on your way out.” Turning around, I stared at the blacked-out window, trying to dismiss her. Taking the hint, she placed my now cracked phone back on my desk before I heard the door close softly behind her. I exhaled trying to swallow the emotion stinging the back of my eyes.
Taking another sip, I dehydrated the shit out of those tears.
Passing out at work from over serving myself wasn’t unheard of. When I looked at my phone it was already way past after hours, and a shipment was due to come through Sins & Forgiveness. Whatever problems we had with the Romeos around the world would wait because there were more girls to serve up on a silver platter in exchange for a wire transfer.
Romeos were the ones grooming the girls who weren’t just stolen the way Chevy was. No, these girls were a different breed. Troublemakers and innocents
alike—all raised by the powerful, and all products of the rich.
Did you think celebrities just marry the elite by chance?
Did you think washed up actresses just fall into the hands of elite families?
Where did you think all the ones go that are just too much trouble?
Through us.
All roads lead to the Clave.
No one was off limits. You could be like Chevy—the ones who don’t expect it that will be sacrificed or trafficked or be like the others who get sent to “reform programs” because they need to be taught a lesson.
Standing up, I pushed the bottle to my lips and swallowed the rest of the big gulp left at the bottom of the bottle before I grabbed my keys from the desk. I had somewhere to be, and if I was a better man, I would get so drunk that the lines on the road blurred and I could send myself to hell.
Showing up at S&F put me on autopilot—only more numb than usual. I couldn’t save any more copies of Eve now that she lived with me. I was pretty sure she already noticed the cages and wondered what kind of freaky shit I was into.
Saving damsels in distress.
Parking out of sight, I watched him complete his normal antics of antagonizing the girls and making this process more of a pain in my ass. Shouting over the yelling he and his men did, “Who is the Romeo in Denmark?”
Halting almost every movement, every word, everything except a look of concern, he finally acknowledged my presence. Donte’s hand maneuvered my shoulder, forcing me to turn away from the girls left in the van who weren’t accounted for. “That’s above your pay grade. You’re just deep pockets with money to burn. You approve the money, the women—not the clients.”
Above my paygrade? I was a founding fucking family.
I gave him a scowl that felt so full of rage, it would scar my face forever.
“None of those girls are Eve. You saved her, lover boy. Don’t get soft on me. You can’t save them all.” He thought that made a difference in him going behind my back without my permission and it didn’t.
Stepping towards him, I didn’t think twice when I used all my boxing training to strike him across the jaw. I was hoping it was made of glass, but in fact, it was solid. The reverberation rattled my knuckles and instantly stung in a way that I could easily add to the pile of pain I carried around.
Stepping back on some wobbly legs, I watched Donte nurse his jaw while he mumbled around profanity: fuck, motherfucker, and a fan favorite cunt.
My shoulder checked his with enough force to knock him over, but he only put his weight on a different leg. “You fucking cunt. You were such a good little cult member until you fell for the bait we sell. Now what, suddenly you don't feel like being the villain because your new wife wasn’t such a virgin by the time you got her?”
Every last drop of control I had was dissolved against Eve’s name rolling off his tongue when we both lunged towards each other, starting an actual brawl. My knee dug into his stomach while my fists rained down heavy shots over his face, sloppily hitting whatever I could.
“You don’t know shit about her. She isn’t like these girls.” My hoarse voice came out breathless as I took the advantage of having the upper hand.
Donte pushed me off him with a kind of ease that made me think he was just acting like a punching bag. He knew I needed to cut myself deep enough to let the evil pour out, and he was doing that for me.
His forearms rested on his knees with the Burberry jacket falling around him like a pair of fucked up wings. After a heavy inhale and fishing for his cigarettes, he spoke, “There’s a lot you don’t know. They don’t all look as desperate as the ones we deal with. Some of them are royal, special, one of a kind, groomed to be better than the scraps you’re used to saving.”
Rubbing my hands of the tiny rocks stuck to my skin from breaking my fall to the pavement, I let my ass fall down next to him. “She wasn’t groomed just because I paid to be the one to marry her.”
“No, but Romeos pay more for polished products. That doesn’t involve you. You don’t get your hands dirty enough to stain them—that’s above your pay grade.” He practically growled the words into the air like the brutal truth it was. I chose to stay in the dark as much as possible, hiding in my office, letting Donte be immune to the insanity.
I wasn’t an idiot; I knew the words leaving his mouth might as well have been a closed door on the lies I let myself believe. The truth was ugly, and it meant her halo was cracked and my demons were going to only hurt her more.
Donte scuffed before taking a long drag of the cigarette pinched between his lips. “She was groomed and had a Romeo just like the rest of them. This isn’t the 1800’s where parents don’t ask for a dowry. I’m betting her mom got a fat check for going along for the ride.”
His words shattered the rest of the lies I had solidified in my heart.
Hating her mom was easy when she was never around when we were younger. Eve was left to her own devices or dropped on our doorstep every time she was swooning over a new boyfriend.
Every boyfriend was the same: loaded and not afraid to show it off.
Eve was the one thing between her mom and happiness since every new boyfriend would get cold feet when she finally dropped the bomb that she was a single mom. It was baggage they didn’t want or need. Until the last one—he was so bland and acted like he loved being a replacement dad for Eve until he realized I was a permanent figure in her life.
He always had a problem with me.
I was a threat to the life he was going to build because I was a built-in future for her.
No wonder he picked up and dragged them to Denmark where he could groom her to be something she wasn’t with no reminders of who I knew her to be.
Dusting off my ripped skinny jeans, I stood, zipping my hoodie up even higher, trying to swallow the amount of ache my heart felt for Eve.
It didn’t matter how bad I felt, I was just another knife, ready to cut some more.
Safely inside my car, I looked through every hiding spot for a bottle or nip of Hennessy. Under the seat, in the center console, glove compartment, above the visor, behind the seat, until I found one. Twisting the cap off with my teeth, I pulled out of Sins and Forgiveness with just as much anger as I felt, almost hitting Donte, and I wasn’t even buzzed yet.
The entire way home, I pondered the idea of grooming and what that could mean even though every new idea begged a wince from my face.
I killed the people who touched me without permission. So why were her abusers living so unburdened, knowing she was mine now?
They were living on borrowed time.
BOWEN
Pulling into my driveway, I sat in my car for longer than necessary—four nips later to be exact. Time was always best counted in the amount of alcohol consumed, instead of in traditional hours or seconds. I was avoiding seeing Eve while my head was still a mess, and she was at the center. She had as many secrets as I did and earning hers meant giving up mine.
I wasn’t prepared to do that just for some ugly ass truths I didn’t want to truly know.
I was constantly giving her bones, hoping it would yield the same kind of information back to me, and she would just hide them for later like pieces of me she knew she’d never have again.
She wasn’t wrong.
The truths I dole out all have an expiration date. I gave them out and expected you to remember them, value them, and not ask me for more.
Eve was a different breed. She asked for more and was never satisfied.
After I watched her come, she practically took that as a personalized invitation to worm her way into my heart by being a perfect wife before we sealed the deal. She truly settled into the role by slaving over a stove and parading herself around in even less fabric than before.
She was taunting and tempting like she didn’t need me to pull the rope back. She did all the pushing and pulling herself.
Tonight was different, I couldn’t just grunt my way through non-verbal communication
and get drunk off my ass. Not when I needed to digest the information Donte just let out of the bag.
Eve was groomed and that meant she endured all the same pain the others endure that don’t get saved.
Texting Donte quickly, I typed out a message: I want her dossier on my desk in the morning.
I changed the contract to reflect her not being stock, not being able to get pregnant so I wouldn’t have to go through being a dad, to make her a real person with feelings when I wasn’t even considering them myself. The Clave contract wasn’t at fault, even though I blamed it for treating her like meaningless shit.
None of us had gone through with being married to the person arranged for us yet. None of us had experience with the words stock, merchandise, and assets. None of us would have thought twice until Donte mentioned the single word that tore down everything I had built up: groomed.
That was just the tip of my iceberg of anger. There was more to be pissed off about.
Donte was towing the line when it came to what we did, making it more dangerous and damaging for everyone involved. He was dipping his fingers into pots I didn’t know existed—ones beyond me, and I was considered the gatekeeper of this bullshit. He was hoarding girls behind my back for someone who wasn’t me. Someone who didn’t care how they were treated as long as they were a warm body in their fucked up web.
I knew those girls were merchandise, but I stopped myself from thinking about where they went after, and to who, and for how much, or about what they would be doing for them. I didn’t want to think about what their life would be like after LA because then my attention would drift to Eve who was all part of this web too, and I just didn’t get to her quick enough.
Pushing the heavy front door open, all I smelled was greasy food when I walked into my house. It was making the saliva in my mouth fight with the bile in my stomach trying to creep its way up. I saw the Chinese takeout boxes on my coffee table in the living room with candles filling the space. Death by fire from the grease.