Prologue
Hell–present day
Istood in the center of a shithole miraged as a fancy office. Dark oak furniture lined the walls, hiding the percentage of the gally floral wallpaper. Velvet curtains brushed the hardwood floors as a gentle breeze crept in from a barely open window. They were emerald in color, mimicking and matching the odd accessories scattered in this room. I fucking hated any shade of green.
I examined a trinket on the tabletop, some kind of crystal that shone in the sunlight.
“You like pretty things.” The man before me snorted, as if in shock. “You’d never think it, not judging by your taste in women.”
I ignored the jibe as it left his lips. It would be easy to kill the prick, but then I may not get what I wanted when ambushed by the scum that surrounded him.
The dirty-looking man had an interesting voice, but an unpleasant smile, and what my mother would call‘an ugly as fuck face’. His head was down, his pen latched to the paperwork in front of him. His black eyes danced a sinister dance over a series of photos. Photos of women covered in bruises and dressed in nothing but their damaged skin.
My steel-colored irises watched him from across the desk as I dropped the crystal without care. It landed on its side; a slight crack appeared in the intricate design.
My agitation caught his attention, pulling his gaze up to me.
“You’re sure this is the one that you want?” the man’s European accent bounced off his scuffed gold fangs as he snarled at the photo in his hands.
“She’s mine. She was already mine. You had no right to take her back.”
“She was a return. Given back by your father in exchange for half of the money he spent on purchasing her.”
“She wasn’t his to return. She was my gift.”
“I’m a little surprised as to why you want her back. I mean, she’s only alive because. . .”
“I don’t care why she is alive. . . but for as long as she is, I own her.”
He examined the photo again. Staring at the scars covering half of the woman’s face. “These ruined her,” he worded as his dirty hand moved over the ink of the printed photograph. “I remember her. When she first arrived, she was worth much more. I’m assuming the scars on her face and body do not put you off? It’s a hard job for me to get even the most depraved of men here to fucking touch her. They like the pretty ones, you know?”
“The scars don’t bother me, Mr. Badeaux.” I stepped forward, giving him my honest truth. Leaning down on the wooden surface, I stared him down, my eyes warning him to speed things up. “I gave her them. They were the only gift she ever received from me that she could keep. But now, I have another, so if you wouldn’t mind hurrying this along. . . I have somewhere to be.”
“Of course, I understand.” The gold teeth appeared again, centered in a vile smile. “Monet, please get 326 ready for her departure. Mr. Heaven would like to leave soon.”
A man of stone, in size and expression, left the room without a word said.
“Do take a seat. Your girl will be here soon. We can discuss payment.” Black eyes dipped to the desk.
“Payment? I own her. I have for the last 10 years.” I slumped myself down on a chair that was probably older than I was myself. Dust clung to my ass cheeks as I squished the particles into the ugly green cushion.
“You did, apparently. But the contract was never in your name. It was in your father’s, and he is no longer with us. He cannot confirm or deny that a refund was made. And I am just a stand in. A stand in to a man who doesn’t give out freebies. So, how quickly do you want this done?”
“How much?” my fingers pushed at the lump in my throat, trying to coax it into a more comfortable position. I didn’t want to pay a dime. But I had money to spare and minutes not to be wasted.
He scribbled a figure onto a cheque and asked for me to sign it. I refused. I wanted no traces to this shithole. I wanted nothing that could trap me back in a cell when this fucker’s dirty dealings covered him in shit.
“I’m happy with the price, but I will pay in cash.” I counted through the notes I pulled from my blazer pocket. I looked smart today. I’d made an effort to get out of my jeans for such a special occasion.
She wasn’t worth as much to him as she was to me. It surprised me. A human life was worth so little to some. Her human life was worth so little to him. How ironic, his would have been worth even less to me, if I didn’t believe God had a purpose for everyone.
And his was surely to suffer, but not today. Time wasn’t on my side.
Echoes came down the hallway; screams of distress pounded at the walls, pleading for safety. My lips curled at the sound. I knew her screams well; I’d know them anywhere. I’d caused enough of them to have their sound lingering in my ears for all eternity.
Excitement pulled me up onto my feet. My body spun to face the door, a smile on my face as I waited to see her appear in the open space of the doorway.
“Shut up with the screaming, whore!” the man handling my goods spoke from outside the room as he neared. “You should be excited. You’re going home.”
