I look behind me at Heath, who is holding the other woman’s limp body and slapping her awake. My instinct is to pull away from Grant and help her, but he doesn’t let me out of his grip. I watch the other prisoner awaken with a yelp. She looks around frantically, her hazel eyes meeting mine. “We’ll be okay,” I mouth silently. I don’t know if I believe it myself, but I need to comfort her somehow.
We’re both shuffled inside, still weak from whatever drugs Heath gave us. A large woman with bright red lips and sapphire eye shadow narrows her gaze, looking me up and down before doing the same to the woman next to me. “Ken, new product in,” the red-lipped woman says in a cold and detached tone.
A minute later, a large, beer-bellied man with an eyepatch and a leather vest steps out of the shadows. Ken, I assume. He gives us a once-over as well, but his eyes make me feel slimy and exposed. “Some extra padding, huh? That’s alright. Some guys are into fat chicks.”
My jaw drops. I know fat shaming is nothing compared to the current situation I’ve found myself in, but it feels unnecessary.Hello injury, meet insult.
“Your call,” the older woman with caked-on makeup replies. She cuts the rope from our wrists and shoves us inside a padded room filled with more women who appear to be in the same drugged haze we’re in.
My hand immediately finds my companion’s, and I give it a reassuring squeeze. She leans into me and squeezes back. “I’m Mika,” I whisper.
“Melodie,” she says, equally as soft.
The door slams behind us with a finality that rattles my bones. The women look over at us, most of their eyes resigned, confused, terrified, or a combination of all three. One pair of fierce green eyes pierces through the surreal scene, anger and betrayal rolling off of her in waves.
“How many more are they bringing?” the woman rages. “This is so fucked up. I can’t believe… I just… I mean, what the fuck?!”
I walk over to her, gently tugging Melodie behind me. The green-eyed woman at least looks lucid enough to give me some answers. She looks more than lucid, actually. She looks pissed and ready to cut a bitch. Hopefully notthisbitch, but I guess we’ll find out.
“Hi, I’m Mika,” I introduce myself.
“Athena,” the woman replies.
“Do you know where we are, Athena?” I ask.
Darkness sweeps over her features, and she huffs out a breath. “Yeah. We’re in some sick and twisted fantasy of rich fucks who want to purchase women. They’ll pay extra for virgins.”
“Purchase…? As in…”
“Auctioned off and trafficked to the highest bidder to do as they please.” Athena looks angry enough to bend the steel bars covering the only window in this room.
Melodie gasps and cowers behind me. I’m feeling the same, but I can’t let it show.
“How…? What?”
“Sons of Destruction,” Athena grits out. Heath and Grant were talking about the same group. “A fucking joke of a motorcycle gang. Filthy, dirty, no-good, thieving, murdering morons with black hearts and–”
The door swings open, and a hand with long red nails grabs Melodie and rips her away from me. I turn and scramble to catch up, my fingers wrapping around my friend’s hand and pulling her closer to me.
“No!” I shout as Melodie’s eyes fill with tears. She’s silently pleading with me to do something, but I don’t think I’m going to win this tug-of-war. I feel a sharp prick on the side of my neck, and my body is flooded with something that makes me dizzy and uncoordinated.
Melodie is ushered out of the room, and the door slams shut once again. Athena wraps an arm around my waist to help hold me up. “They gave you a sedative,” she informs me. “You have to fight it. Do you understand? Fight, Mika. Fight it with every goddamn thing you have.”
I nod, but the movement makes the room spin. My vision darkens, and no matter how hard I try to push through the fog, I feel my consciousness slip away.
I blink and open my eyes to a new room, this one draped in red velvet and golden accents. Someone is stuffing me into too-tight lingerie, but I can’t seem to move my body to fight it. I blink again, and someone is pulling a brush through my hair while another person smears lipstick and eyeliner on my face.
Closing my eyes, I take a breath and then open them again, only this time I’m being shoved onto a stage. A bright spotlight shines down on me, obscuring my already weak vision. I feel like a baby deer wobbling in these high heels, and it’s all I can do not to fall on my ass.
My heart thuds against my ribcage in time with the throbbing in my temples. Am I going to pass out? Would that be preferable to being awake for what I’m about to endure? I’ve never been much for religion, but I’m praying to every god I can think of that something, anything would happen to stop this.
2
SHADOW
Itug at the cufflinks on my silky, navy blue, button-down shirt, wishing I could rip them off along with the rest of these uncomfortable clothes. I’ve worn leather and denim for most of my life, and I feel entirely out of my comfort zone wearing a well-fitted shirt and charcoal gray dress slacks. And don’t get me started on these stupid ass-shoes.
Taking a deep breath, I remind myself I’m on a stealth mission for the club. That’s why I have to wear this “uniform.” My MC Brothers tried to get me in a suit jacket, but we couldn’t find one big enough to shove my shoulders into. Someone suggested a matching tie, but that idea was quickly shut down when I offered to wrap it around his neck like a noose.
