Prologue: Honor Gravehart
Maybe Eleven…Locked Away In A Basement
The early-morning sun did its best to cast warm rays through the tiny window that sat a few inches above the cot I called my bed. I scoffed, knowing Lucian had probably deliberately requested the window's size. Nothing was worse than catching a glimpse of the freedom you no longer have. Through the window, I got a peek of his green manicured lawn and caught the soft glow of the night sky. It was a reminder that I wasn't in charge of my future anymore. Now it was in the hands of a stranger.
Closing my eyes, I said a quick prayer thanking God for giving me another day and questioning his reason for doing so. I didn't know what came after taking your last breath, but whatever it was had to be better than this. I mumbled a quick 'Amen',then turned over and grabbed the nail I kept hidden beneath the thin mattress. On my first morning here, I found it lying in the corner of the room. Like the size of the window, its presence wasn't a mistake. The nail was left on purpose, but thewhywas the riddle.
Was it a weapon to gouge Lucian's eye out? Maybe my golden ticket to eternal darkness?
The possibilities were endless because Lucian's mind was twisted. He didn't shudder at the sight of blood or cower from the stench of raw flesh. That night, he stared unflinchingly as if red wine had spilled on a white carpet he no longer cared about. For Lucian, that level of savagery was normal. For me, it was sickening.
"Twenty-one," I muttered, scraping the nail into the wall, carving a line next to the others.
Another day survived. The reward: twenty-four hours to question the purpose of my existence. Still, what the fuck was existing when I didn't even know what day it was? Mondays and Saturdays didn't exist here. All I knew was light and dark. Awake and sleep.
Quiet stillness in the space around me and loud, erratic thoughts in my head. Maybe if I hadn't lost track after a few days, my life might've meant more than a moment before death answered my prayers. But these carvings and lines I scraped into the wall kept me in touch with what's real. Besides the lines, the only constant was that I was still going without.
However, not having things wasn't new to me.
My moms was an addict, and growing up in the hood muthafuckas knew what that meant. Glory did what she could, but nothing was gon' stop her from feeding her addiction. It was fucked up since I didn't ask to be born, but I understood it, so I did my best not to fault her too much. Instead, I learned to survive. Random food items in the kitchen became gourmet meals to ease the hunger pangs. Small pieces of soap kept a nigga clean, and the random stuff I stole from donation bins kept me clothed. I made do with what I had and never complained because I was blessed with something more valuable than material bullshit. I got to witness the world happening. Every day, I looked out the window and watched the comings and goings in my hood.
I taught myself the importance of having a keen eye for detail. I watched hustlers move around, studied how they made money, and learned from their mistakes. My old life gave me the luxury of being a student of my environment. Locked in a muthafuckin' basement, I couldn't be a student of shit. My mind was caged.
Fear. Doubt. Loneliness. Memories.
They shoved me further into a corner I couldn't escape. This room might've been hell, but it didn't compare to my mind. In here, the walls were real. I could see 'em, touch 'em, and even hate 'em if I wanted to. In my head, there was nothing.
No door. No lock to pick. No key to find.Just the illusion that I was free.
Running my fingers across the tally marks once more, I tucked the nail beneath the mattress and allowed haunted thoughts of Glory to seep in.
"Ma." A lone tear slipped from the corner of my eye as I rested my head against the wall. Another one, then another, and another fell, all needing a release for too many reasons.
For her tears, her death, the horror, and for the way her skin peeled from her body.
The Grove showed me a lot, but none of it compared to the death of my mom. Lucian walked into our apartment that night wearing a tailored suit that probably cost more than everything we owned. His hair was slicked back in a way that said he had more money than most people had touched in a lifetime. The two men who walked in behind him were more of the same. Only one was black. I took Lucian to be a man of honor. Shit, he had to be with how the men he brought with him moved through the apartment without him having to utter a word. That was my first mistake. Men like Lucian didn't give without getting something in return.
"Please… don't hurt her," I choked out. My voice cracked as I pushed back tears. I was talking to a man of power, so crying didn't have a place here.
"I'll do whatever you want. I can tell you're not the kind of man who bothers with the backend, but I can. I see everything. How hustlers move, where they keep their money, who's beefing with who… I see it all. I'm good with numbers, too. You let her go, and I'll work for you. I'll make sure the Grove is yours. Just please let her go."
I laid it out for Lucian, not caring what I might've had to do if he'd taken me up on my offer. Lucian agreed, telling me to grab whatever I wanted to bring, since I wouldn't be living there anymore. I ran off, stuffing a few things in a book bag. I scribbled a note for my mom and left it in my room for her to find. But then I stepped into the living room and froze. Glory laid on the couch, her eyes slick with tears, as one of Lucian's men carved the skin from her body. It was a sight no child should've seen. I watched with tears muddying my vision, snot dribbling on my lips. I never looked away, and Lucian's glare didn't stray from me. It wasn't until my mom took her final breath that Lucian draped an arm over my shoulder like he hadn't shattered my innocence.
"You thought that meant something, didn't you?" he stated. "Offering yourself in her place."
His cologne burned the back of my throat. He smelled clean and expensive, the opposite of the blood that stained the couch beneath my mom's body. Turning me toward him, I watched a merciless smile form.
"This is your first lesson. Without leverage, a sacrifice is wasted effort."
I couldn't speak, move, or barely fucking breathe.
"You don't earn power by feeling things. You earn it by taking what no one expects you to. Your mother didn't beg. Shedidn't try to stop you. She allowed her son, who's merely a boy, to make grown man negotiations. You want to matter in this world?" he asked, tightening his gaze. "Then make people fight to keep you. Make them scream, make them kneel, because if they don't, you were never a loss to them. You were merely nothing."
Opening my eyes, I shook away the thoughts that changed my life forever. Lucian did a lot of fucked up shit that night, but what he said about Glory was true. She was all too willing to let me sacrifice myself if it meant she would survive.
The door slowly crept open with Chance stepping in. Chance was at my house that night with Lucian, and when we made it here, it was Chance who brought me to my prison. Normally, he brought food and a bottle of water, but today his hands were empty. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, waiting for him to speak. He didn't rush. He just stood, scanning the room with a cold calm that people often mistook for control.
"Let's go," his voice growled.
