Shock ran through me when he pressed his thumb to the corner of my lips, dragging the heat of his skin upward. The touch was careful, deliberate, almost tender in a way that made my stomach twist. His thumb smeared through the blood at the corner of my mouth. For a breath, the courtyard vanished—there was only his skin against mine and the sharp awareness that Rafe Creed had touched me.
He seemed disoriented, too, like the touch had unsettled him more than it had me. Confused wasn’t a word I’d ever thought could belong to Rafe, but it was there, flickering across his face before he pulled his hand back too quickly, as if burned. His scowl deepened, but there was a softness in his gaze. I didn't know how to make sense of any of it; that day had felt like a day of genuine impossibilities. Being able to takeout Matthew and still bealive? It shouldn't have been able to happen.
Kane was there next, peering over Rafe’s shoulder with a crooked smile. It faltered when he got a good enough look at me. “Shit. Rafe, you dick, why are you just staring at the girl? She needs help.”
Thorne dropped to his knees by my head. He yanked me up, propping me against him with a dark expression. “Fuck.” He touched the side of my face gingerly, and I winced. "It's going to be okay, little flame."
“No. It's not. Viktor's going to kill us,” Kane said and a true flash of fear crossed his face. I’d never seen Kane be scared of anything, and seeing it in that moment drove tears to my eyes—no matter how much I wanted to not cry. I chose to go to the courtyard. I fought. I was proud of myself for how far I made it.
“Rafe,” Kane said more seriously. “He’s going tokill uswhen he sees her.”
Rafe touched the corner of my mouth again. The sting flared, sharp enough to make me wince, but his thumb didn’t move away. His touch lingered, heavy, tracing just enough pressure to remind me how closehe was. The courtyard felt too quiet, the air thick with tension, until the sound of Thorne clearing his throat cut through. Rafe pulled back, slow and reluctant, his scowl replacing his brief, worried look with ease.
Kane—I’ve never really been sure how he was able to understand Rafe but he did. “Get her to her room. Call a discreet maid to take care of her,” Kane ordered his brother. “Now, Thorne.”
“My training isn’t done,” Thorne gritted out, and I reached a hand to his wrist, squeezing it. I wasn’t mad. I agreed. Thorne couldn’t leave that courtyard. He needed Viktor to see him fighting that day, the next,everyday leading up to his brother’s departure.
So did I. If I was going to make myself valuable enough to get Leah and I out of that hellhole, Ihadto keep fighting.
Groaning, hissing, making sounds I honestly thought belonged only in hell, I shifted upward.
Thorne tried to stop me. Kane braced his hands on his head and paced away, muttering curses. Rafe, well, stared. The other boys—the ones I hadn’t knocked out yet—waited.
I got up. To this fucking day, I’ve no idea how. But I stood on my own, lifted my fists on my own, and somehow I beat the shit out of two more boys. I remember looking over at Thorne through swollen lids, and I remember seeing the fear he had for me leak away. Thorne, in that moment, realized what I think Rafe had already known.
I wasn’t becoming a Creed. I already was one. Viktor had just called me Doll instead.
That night, at nine p.m., Viktor came to my bedroom with two guns. One to carve four cruel letters into my arm. The other to kill.
He kissed my forehead. “I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he murmured.
I was wrecked from the courtyard—muscles shaking, head pounding—but it didn’t matter. It never mattered. Viktor Shaw could make me feel small and breakable anywhere, anytime,and he knew it.
“Abillion,” he whispered against my temple. “They want you for a billion.”
My throat felt torn raw, but the question still scraped out, “How long?”
His fingers slipped to the buttons of my jeans. “A year,” he said. Then his mouth curved, cruel and certain. “Five hundred million extra for me to send Creed with you. It means cutting other deals, but you’re too lucrative to keep locked in this house.”
He pressed his palm flat against my stomach, guiding me back onto the bed as if he had all the time in the world. “You’ll need to practice more than your fight for that price, Doll.” His voice dropped to a satisfied hiss. “Open for me.”
?Arden?
Viktor dressed me in red. The dress hung off my body, glittering like millions of tiny rubies. It hugged my curves and dipped low to expose my cleavage. A choker of black pearls graced my neck, my skin deeply mottled from the courtyard. Apparently, that was what the Buyer liked most—seeing me looking more fragile than any Doll he’d ever seen. Beaten and bloody, lying on the ground, still choosing to get up and take another hit.
My lighter was holstered on one thigh; my gun was on my other. I’d practiced shooting with Thorne for the last two weeks. I was an excellent shot, but then again, we all were. It turned out most of us had wanted to kill something all of our lives.
On my left arm was my ink. I didn’t get the Creed brand. Instead, Viktor inked the four cruel letters of DOLL. The letters overlapped each other and were almost illegible, but I’d always know what they meant and who put them there. Thorne, on the other hand, had finally earned his Creed tattoo, the bold letters lined up vertically down his neck. Every time he swallowed, it gave the ink life, and I knew that was why he put it there.
Creed to Thorne and I was a rebirth. We were on the edge of nineteen with nothing to lose but an entire world to gain. Maybe we should have been more afraid, but I saw the excitement in his eyes, and I’m sure he saw it in mine.
We were sold, but we wereleaving. An entire year without Viktor.
I just wish I’d known then that sometimes it's better to keep the monster you know than the ones you don’t. What awaited us wasn’t freedom.
I stood there in the driveway, my small suitcase clasped in my hand. My jeans, tank, and leather jacket were all that resided within. It was everything I cared to take with me except for one thing—oneperson.
“Arden, wait!” Leah’s voice cracked from the front doorway as a limo pulled up.
