“This one’s a contender,” she cheerfully said, holding it up against my frame as she turned her head to the side. The fabric swayed between us, casting shadows across my face. “Try this one on.”
What I wanted to do was throw it at her face or shred it to bits, but I reluctantly took the dress and lumbered toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
I halted in my tracks at Silvia’s voice and slowly faced her. “To change.”
“Here is fine,” she stated crisply. “There’s no need for modesty among friends.”
Friends, my ass.
I turned my back to her, my fingers trembling as I peeled away the plain cotton shirt they’d given me. The fabric stuck slightly to my skin where dried sweat had made it cling. In the mirror’s reflection, I caught sight of what they’d done to me; bruises had bloomed across my torso. Ugly, mottled splotches painted my ribs and stomach in shades of purple and black, already beginning their slow transformation to that sickly yellow-green. Another mark peeked out from beneath my collarbone, a perfect thumbprint.
I quickly slithered the dress over my head. Every movement sentfresh waves of pain radiating from my injuries, my muscles protesting as I raised my arms. The fabric clung in ways that made me feel so damn uncomfortable.
When I turned back, Silvia’s eyebrow arched, her gaze traveling the length of my body. “You’ll need makeup, and we’ll fix this hair,” she said as if she were some kind of personal stylist prepping me for a fashion show. “No one likes damaged goods. Especially not at your price point.”
The words hit like individual slaps, but I swallowed the retort building in my throat. Instead, I stood there with my hands hanging at my sides, focusing on the anger burning in my gut. “How do you know what I’m worth?”
A slight smirk spread across her lips. “It’s my job to know.” A glint passed into her eyes as they roamed over me, dissecting me. “Face symmetry. Eye color. Bone structure. Rarity factors. You’ll fetch a pretty penny, no question.”
And how much of that would be her cut? It wasn’t like she tended to kidnappees for free.
Silvia moved closer, and her fingers were surprisingly warm as they adjusted the dress straps. When she brushed against one of my bruises, I flinched. She tsked. “We’ll cover those. You’ll look good as new. Angelic.”
Turning me toward the mirror, Silvia stood behind me, fingers pressing into my bare shoulders. I stared at my reflection, the girl looking back a stranger with her skin pale and wide eyes. She looked hollowed out. Empty. A beautiful shell with nothing living inside.
Silvia moved to the rack again, selecting a pale lilac gown. She held it up, studying the fabric against my skin. “This one will do nicely as well,” she murmured. “Brings out that unique color in your eyes. Quite striking, really.”
I was all too happy to get this black thing off my body, not that the lilac was any better. Before I could react or even think to move, she’d raised her phone and captured me with a flash that left spots dancing in myvision.
My carefully constructed facade cracked. “What the hell was that for? Why did you take my picture?”
She looked entirely unfazed by my outburst, her expression as calm as still water. “Approval,” she replied, her thumb already swiping across her phone screen. “Before you’re presented on Friday night, there needs to be agreement from all parties involved. Quality assurance, you could say.”
Approval? Presented?
The words repeated in my skull. The buyers were already preapproved with private lists and hidden bids. I wasn’t a new product; I was a last-minute luxury upgrade.
Like a robot, I changed into the next dress, and she repeated the process, snapping a pic of me. After four or five wardrobe changes, Silvia began packing up her mobile boutique, each dress returning to its proper place on the rack. When she reached the door, she paused in the frame, her silhouette backlit by the hallway light. “Someone will be up with dinner. I suggest you actually eat this time instead of letting it go to waste. Especially since you skipped breakfast and lunch.”
Skipped?
As if they hadn’t withheld food as punishment. As if starvation had been my fucking choice rather than their cruelty.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me alone with my outrage. I stood there in the growing shadows, my stomach cramping with hunger, and my ribs aching with each breath, but she was right about one thing, the cold bitch. If I was going to survive this, if I was going to claw my way out of whatever hell they’d dragged me into, I needed to keep up my strength. No matter how much the thought of food turned my stomach, no matter how much my body wanted to reject everything they offered, I couldn’t afford to be weak.
4
KREED
Idragged Jesse through the unmarked side door of the Rooftop, my fingers locking around his upper arm like a vice. His boots scraped against the stained concrete floor with each stumbling step, rubber soles catching on uneven patches worn smooth by years of foot traffic. A dark streak of blood trailed down his lip. If he didn’t give me what I wanted, he would be losing a whole lot more than the small amount from a cut.
The heavy metal door slammed shut behind us, bouncing off bare walls and rolling down the empty corridor. The fluorescent lights overhead hummed, casting everything in harsh, unforgiving white.
Jesse shifted as I shoved him forward, his shoulder blades rigid beneath his flannel shirt. He grunted as I forced him down into the metal folding chair positioned dead center in the back room. This was where we held fights when the main floor got too crowded, where we conducted meetings that requiredprivacy, and sometimes where we kept people we didn’t plan on letting walk back out into the world.
Maddox materialized through the doorway, two bottles of water dangling from his left hand while his right held zip ties. Raineclaimed his usual spot against the pool table, arms folding across his chest.
