Pressure blooms deep in my side, and my pulse runs away with itself, galloping with the need to fight back. Swing. Punch. Something …
But I do nothing. I stop trying to explain my way out. Not because I’m brave, but because part of me thinks—good, I deserve this. Each shove, every cruel word—it’s not their fault. They’ve been conditioned and broken. Can I blame them for needing an outlet to release their pain and devastation? I let them down.
In a convoluted way, it makes sense.
I’d hate me too.
Cradling my head, I thread my fingers together at the nape of my neck. There’s a ringing in my ears as several more kicks land. I think back to the dock, the lake, but even those thoughts roil my stomach. Instead, I transport myself back to my old room, in the worn house, and for the first time in a long time I think of Phil. Is this what he saw for me, and chose it anyway? Or was he manipulated? Fed some lies about the “safety” of his daughter and decided he didn’t love me enough to warrant any more questions.
The sound of steel grating over rock trickles in through the grunts and cracks connecting to my bones. Shouts and movement, then nothing.
I peek out from the defensive ball I’ve shoved myself into in the corner. The girls have backed off, their eyes glassy, mouths set into bloodless thin lines, ire dripping from their expressions.
Before I can move, a rough, deft hand latches onto my upper arm and yanks me up. Pain shoots through my shoulder as itdrags me upright, and I let out a whimper, to which Juliette smirks, her upper lip curling. “Saved again, huh?”
I don’t have time to meet the faces of the other girls as I’m hauled out the door, feet slipping, trying to find a balance on my wobbly legs.
“Get moving,” he mutters. My head lolls back as I try to get a good look at the man. I recognize him … it’s the guard from the night Slade took me home. He escorted me to the limo.
“Knox,” I croak, and his iron grip digs harder into the flesh of my arm. He drags me through the dim hallway, every few steps glancing toward the cameras pointed in our direction. We weave through hallways I’d forgotten about until we’re in the one with all the rooms.
He opens the door to one and, without a word, pushes me inside. My arm drops to my side, and I bend forward, sweaty hands fighting to stay braced over my knees.
“You’re to stay in here until Market tomorrow,” he says. Then he looks at the camera on the back wall. Lips barely parting, he whispers, “He can’t get you out right now. He has to play by the rules.”
I attempt to stand, wincing in pain, and palm my ribs. “No. He promised.”
Knox’s pierced brow darts up, but he doesn’t respond.
“He promised,” I mutter again. Then, rubbing at the spot on my arm where he held me, I sidestep to lean against the papered wall.
“Slade has asked Graves for you to stay here until Market.”
I look around the empty room. It’s just like before, with no furniture.
Knox follows my gaze and grimaces. “I’ll see if I can get you a pillow. You’ll be picked up in the morning for prep.”
“Take me back,” I say. “Please.”
“I can’t do that. I have to go.” Then he shuts the door, and I hear the electronic lock click into place.
Tears spring to my eyes as I limp toward the door and attempt to open it.
Dang it!
I don’t want special treatment. Or maybe this is EV’s way of keeping me alive to make more money tomorrow at the Market? But he promised.
The silence is thick and the room lights bright, which somehow feels worse than the darkened room with yelling girls. It feels wrong to be alone and relatively safe for the night.
I thought I was going to do more. That being stuck with Slade meant I could help get the other girls out or turn EV on its head with a statewide dismantling. While I was falling for Slade, they were being paraded under crystal lights. Still being sold.
Piper. Did I miss chances to contact her? She seems like someone who might believe me when I accuse some of the most affluent men in Chicago.
I told myself I was surviving—when the guilt was too much—but maybe I was too complacent. I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do to make it right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
SLADE
