PROLOGUE
Jayden
Nine years earlier…
Desolate sleeping bodies lie strewn across the floor. The stench of stale sweat and desperation lingers in the air, stains my hair and permanently resides in my nostrils. The homeless shelter is nothing more than a run-down local community hall with draughty single-glazed windows but it’s a shell over our heads, for the night at least.
My brother, Ryan, dozes at my feet. We take turns at keeping watch. The shelters can be every bit as rough as the harsh, dark streets of LA.
A fight breaks out somewhere along the corridor and the increased pounding of my own ragged heartbeat reverberates through my skull.
Fighting’s common around here. People fight over nothing. They’re frustrated. Angry at the world, with nothing to lose, bar the shabby clothes on their backs.
Sofia stirs, adjusting her cheek which rests awkwardly on my shoulder. She’s the reason we’ve made it this far. She might be small, but she’s savvier than Ryan and I ever were. She had to be to make it across the border from Mexico.
Her olive skin is flawless, apart from the dark circles beneath her enormous oval eyes. Long, jet black hair’s secured in a loose ponytail which extends halfway down her back.
Homeless or not, there’s no denying her beauty.
We met a few months ago, bonding instantly through similar forlorn circumstances. Sofia has a teenage sibling she’s determined to keep safe, too. No mean feat while trying to claw our way from the streets to a better life. And Lula doesn’t make it easy on her, rebelling at every opportunity.
They fled here from horror. We fled here in hope. Although, so far, we haven’t found a sliver of it. Ryan busks the sidewalks daily, hoping one day someone will spot his talent, offer him a gig, and us a way out of here.
The nights Sofia and I end up in the same shelter are a small solace in my otherwise dismal existence. To escape reality in my darker moments, I imagine a different life. One where we’d have met in happier circumstances. I’d have asked her out. She’d have said yes. We’d have gone for dinner and drinks. I’d have kissed her.
It wasn’t that long ago I actually had a life that would have rendered that a real possibility. And I will again, no matter what it takes.
Sofia’s huge chocolate eyes flick open at the noisy commotion down the hall.
‘Is Lula back yet?’ Sofia’s sister has a habit of going AWOL, determined to run in the wrong circles.
I shake my head, clicking my stiff neck. I didn’t want to budge even a millimetre in case I disturbed what little rest she might get.
A deep wheeze rattles through Sofia’s frail ribcage. The coughing starts again. She’s always coughing.
She’s sicker than she looks. Some sort of rare genetic condition. With no money and no medical aid, the odds of her making her twenty-fifth birthday are slim. It doesn’t stop me praying for a miracle, spending every waking moment thinking of ways to save her.
I pass over the litre bottle of water I bought with the change Ryan came back with earlier.
When the coughing finally subsides, Sofia takes a sip and passes it back with a grateful smile. It doesn’t reach her doe-like eyes. Taking my huge hand in her tiny one, she squeezes with an earnest expression.
Spending weeks on the streets has a way of making you feel invisible. Most people walk past, averting their eyes. They don’t want to see the horrifying reality of it. So in contrast, the intensity of Sofia’s stare makes my insides flip.
‘Jayden, I need you to make a promise to me.’ Cold fingers trace the back of my hand. ‘If you ever escape this life, please drag my sister with you.’ Instinctively, I pull her into my chest, wrapping my arms around her thin frame. ‘Of course. And you’ll come too…’
She swallows thickly.
We both know her poor health means that’s unlikely.
‘Take care of her, if I’m not around.’ Her words are choked with sorrow. ‘All I ever wanted was to get her out of there. To give her a chance in life.’
‘I promise you, Sofia. No matter what happens, I will take care of your sister.’
ChapterOne
CHLOE
Liberated is my middle name. Well, almost. Technically, it’s Liberty, but you get the gist. My slightly bohemian, feminist mother picked it in the hope I’d courageously blaze a trail through the limited ideals imposed on women by society.
