Sal smirks at me. “Welcome home, beautiful. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
My fear revs as he reaches for me. He snatches my ankle before yanking me down the edge of the van. I thrash, cursing him as he lifts me by my waist and carries me up the steps of a wraparound porch. The house is large with multiple stories and gingerbread trim around the gables. The dark paint on the outside is slightly muted by the years it’s stood upright, and the porch's wood is weathered.
The other two men walk ahead, conversing casually as I’m hauled forcefully into the house. Before Sal can shove me past the threshold, I get a good look at the surrounding neighborhood. It’s dilapidated and long forgotten. Old, off-center homes sit withered and overgrown with vegetation, and I note one house with a broken-down vehicle idling in the driveway.
We’re isolated.
Sal drags me into a dimly lit foyer, and my eyes flicker over the curved ceiling adorned with intricate crown molding. The pale walls are empty, and there seems to be no bright lights anywhere in the home. The carpet beneath my feet is blood red and stained. There’s a mahogany staircase to my right, and I can make out the sounds of other men laughing heartily fromthe living room down the hall.
Sal slides a lock into place on the door, and the alarm system blinks on, signaling that there’s no way out. I swallow past the bile rising in my throat as we break off from the group and I’m forced up the steps.
“Luna!” Sal bellows up the stairs behind me. “New blood!”
I don’t like the sound of that. Not at all.
No one answers him as we trudge up to the second floor. Sal grabs the back of my dress, angling me down a long hall of rooms. My muscles coil at his touch, and my eyes close as my tears threaten to fall.
I hate him touching me.
“Luna!” He shouts, growing agitated.
One of the doors creaks open before a head of platinum blonde curls pokes out.
Luna.
Luna Blackthorne.
She’s a heavy metal artist who climbed the ranks rather quickly after her label thrust her to the top. She was making waves in the music scene with her heavy vocals that sang of loss and despair. Then, she vanished off the face of the Earth three months ago. Her social media has been dead, and all of her fans speculated that she was faking her own death. Seeing her here is jarring.
She’s petite with mousy features and warm brown eyes. Her looks don’t fit her feral, hardcore vocals. She’s dressed in cut-off shorts and a black tank top. Her legs, long and shapely, stretch for miles as she stands barefoot in the doorway.
I would think she was helping the men who kidnapped me. If it weren’t for the swollen black eye she’s sporting. The skin around her socket is a deep purple and looks fresh.
She frowns at me. “Rose?”
I blink back at her. “Luna?”
She shakes her head, her eyes full of hate as they shift to the man at my back. “I see my cousin is getting bold. Anothercelebrity is bound to raise suspicion.”
Sal chuckles, the sound making my neck prickle. “Don’t start, Moon, or I’ll have to fill your mouth again. You look so pretty choking on a cock.”
Her jaw works, a fire burning in her gaze. “Fuck you.”
“Later, baby.” Sal winks before shoving me forward. “Get her bathed and dressed. She already has clients lining up.”
My lips part on a gasp as my heart slams. I feel so uncomfortable that I can’t move until Luna beckons me with a soft gesture. Her features are cool, and I finally see the exhaustion behind her mask. She looks rough, and it makes my heart break for her.
This whole time…
“Come on,” She says softly.
I shuffle forward, glad to leave Sal behind. Once I’m in Luna’s room, she closes the door with a gentle click before pressing her forehead to it and sighing deeply. “I’m so sorry…”
Her voice is so quiet I don’t think I’ve heard her until she turns to me and I see a torrent of emotions on her face—regret, melancholy, and fear.
She plays with her fingers in front of her, staring at the floor as if she can’t stand to look me in the eyes. “Holden, the one who runs the whole operation, is my cousin. I understand if you don’t want to trust me—”
“Luna,” I interject in a murmur. “This isn’t your fault.”
