Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Serenity

Marsha and the older woman, who I had discovered was named Frances, had dressed me in a stupid, long white gown and had put my hair up in a loose bun. I looked like a fucking princess.

Marsha cast her gaze over me. "Cleaned up, she's beautiful. Watch her. I need to check the other merchandise."

Did she mean other girls like me?

I remained docile on the surface, but I wasn't even close to giving up the fight. I waited until Marsha had made her way out of the dressing room, leaving me alone with Frances, then I shoved her as hard as I could. She slammed her head into the wall and slid down limply like a puppet. I ran out of the room and into the kitchen. I immediately grabbed a steak knife out of a wooden block .

"Dan! Help me," Frances cried as she stumbled into the kitchen after me.

A man—Dan, I supposed—suddenly appeared behind her. He was built like a grizzly bear, and his massive hands looked capable of crushing my skull with a single squeeze. They flanked me, cutting off any escape.

My heart banged wildly against my ribcage. Blood raged through my veins, turning my skin scorching hot. I tightly gripped the metal handle of the steak knife, cold in my sweaty palm. Strands of my blonde hair came loose from my messy bun and hung in front of my eyes. As Frances and Dan closed in on me, I slashed and lunged with the knife, keeping them at bay. I could hear Joy's older brother's words—"Always aim for the soft spots!"—ringing in my ears as I fought for my life. Steve had taught me how to defend myself with a knife after an incident with Freddie years ago. Right now, I'd take Freddie over this guy any day.

Frances glared at me. "Serenity, put the knife down. You're only making things worse for yourself. Simon won't be pleased."

Dan cracked his neck. "I've got her trapped. She ain't going nowhere. Go get Simon."

Frances stormed out of the kitchen in a huff.

I bolted in the opposite direction, slicing with the knife again and again. Dan was quicker than I thought and cornered me against the sink, an immovable wall of muscle, but I stood my ground.

I gritted my teeth. "Come near me and you're dead."

"You're going to regret this, bitch. The boss ain't going to take kindly to this at all." He picked up a white dinner plate off the counter and hurled it at my head like a frisbee. I ducked, and it shattered against the wall behind me, fragments falling onto my bare shoulders.

Panting, I pressed my back against the counter. "Stay away from me." My once-steady voice had turned shrill. I was reaching my limit.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway.

Simon and Frances barged into the room, their faces frantic. Simon's eyes locked onto mine with fiery intensity, his hand trembling as he pointed at me. "You're pushing my limits," he growled through clenched teeth. He shoved Dan at me, his face contorted with disgust. "Get that weapon away from her, you idiot."

I lashed out with the knife again, narrowly missing Dan's arm.

"Looks like she knows how to handle it," Simon sneered, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gleaming revolver. "I'll shoot you in the leg or the arm if I have to." His thumb cocked the gun. "Don't test me, bitch."

My heart pounded like a jackrabbit's in my chest as I weighed my options.

Marsha walked into the room and flicked her wrist. " Rayon Sacré ."

The knife instantly flew out of my hand and embedded itself in the ceiling above my head.

"Shit!" I shouted.

Dan lunged at me and pinned my hand against the wall.

"Stop struggling," he grunted as I kicked and thrashed against him.

Adrenaline shot through my arms and legs as I fought to escape from the enormous man, kicking, twisting, and stomping on his foot.

He growled dangerously. He really did remind me of a bear.

"Take her to the bedroom," Simon ordered.

Dan tossed me over his shoulder, and I pounded on his back with my fists. "No, no, no!"

He slammed me down on the bed, pinning my wrists over my head.

Simon approached the bed, holding a syringe. With no warning, he jabbed the needle into my vein, injecting me with god knows what. My body tensed up, and sweat broke out all over my skin as I thrashed my head back and forth and arched my back, trying to get the mountain of muscle off me. But it was no use—the drug had already begun to take effect.

A wave of dizziness overtook me, my vision blurred, and my limbs went numb.

Simon stared down at me, his face going in and out of focus. "Don't worry. You won't pass out, but you won't have the strength to fight us off, and you'll be a fuck of a lot more compliant."

Dan slowly released me. I tried to sit up, but Simon was right. I couldn't muster the strength to even move my pinky. It was as if my arms had turned into lead.

Simon looked at Marsha and Frances. He clicked his tongue with impatient disapproval. "Get her cleaned up. She's a complete mess."

My brain told my muscles to clench and fight back, but my limbs were heavy and unresponsive. Dan's grip on my arm was firm, but not strong enough to leave bruises. He pulled me along, my feet dragging on the hardwood floor. We reached a large powder room, and he pushed me onto a stool facing a huge mirror. I tried to steady myself, but my body had turned into that of a lifeless puppet, and I fell to the ground. I landed on my right side, twisting my arm behind my back and slamming my hip on the floor. I cried out in agony.

"You idiot. She's drugged and doesn't have any strength. Hold her up," Marsha's voice rang out behind us, clearly disgusted by my lack of coordination.

Dan's hand closed around my hurt arm like a vice, hauling me up from the ground and shoving me back onto the stool, ignoring my pained whimpers. My head swam with disorientation, and I struggled to keep my eyes open; everything was a blur. Frances' sharp nails dug into my flesh, causing sharp pain to shoot through my arm. I tried to use my other hand to soothe the ache, but it felt like it was glued to the stool.

Frances scrubbed my face clean. "I can't believe I have to redo your makeup again, you little bitch. Simon better be right about you bringing in lots of money." She pinched my cheeks hard. "Don't do anything else stupid. I'm losing my patience."

Frances moved swiftly around me with a powder compact, tube of lipstick, and mascara wand. When she was finished, I barely recognized myself. I looked even worse than when they made me a princess. I had rosy-pink cheeks, thick mascara around my eyes, and sparkling blue eye shadow. I looked like a porcelain doll .

She pinched my arm again. "Stop laughing."

I don't know why I was giggling. Maybe it was the drugs.

Next Marsha tugged at my hair, pulling it into an unfamiliar style, her fingernails scratching my scalp. I winced, but she didn't care as she pinned it up higgledy-piggledy. As I looked at my reflection, it was like seeing a completely different person staring back at me—a woman who wore way too much makeup and with unkempt hair—not at all me.

"Her gown is stained from where she got her dinner all over it. I'll get her another one." The drugs were getting stronger, and Frances' voice sounded like she was talking in a bucket.

Marsha yanked my dress off right in front of Dan, and I could feel his gaze flicking over me. I wanted to die, but I was putty in their hands. What had Simon given me?

Frances and Marsha helped me get into another strapless white gown that I thought might have sparkled, but I couldn't focus enough to be sure. Marsha covered up the bruises on my right arm with makeup and bound my arms behind my back. My arms and wrists throbbed, and I hissed between my teeth.

No one cared. They forced me to sit on the floor with my legs spread out wide. I felt like a marionette for them to pose at will. Time ticked by, and I tried to blink my eyes to keep my gaze focused and steady, but it didn't work. Everything seemed fuzzy, as if I had chugged a bottle of beer too quickly. My stomach swirled uneasily, and I hoped I didn't lose the contents of it. Hadn't Frances mentioned me getting dinner on my dress? I couldn't even remember the last time I had eaten.

Dan yanked me up off the floor and dragged me out of the powder room and down a hallway, to where, I wasn't sure. Everything had turned into a kaleidoscope of flashing white, green, blue, and red. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, longing to get off the merry-go-round.

Dan abruptly let go of me, and I staggered as if I were drunk.

Frances hissed into my ear. "You will walk out into that room, and you will not make a fool of me , do you understand? You'd better hope someone buys you, because if they don't, you don't want to know what I'll do to you."

Her harsh whisper was like a dagger cutting into my heart.

I could barely breathe as I heard what sounded like doors opening.

"Now…move." Frances' curt voice spurred me on.

I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and prayed I didn't trip over the stupid gown.

"…And this is our last piece, my kings. She's a young girl, barely eighteen, possibly even a virgin, ready to be popped by one of you."

Popped? Seriously, did he just use that word?

Tingles swept over me, and goosebumps ran down my naked arms. Gasps erupted around the room, as if my appearance had stunned the lecherous buyers.

I clenched my fists. This was my worst nightmare. Tears stung my eyes as my last bit of freedom was ripped from me. I had fought so hard to escape one prison only, to enter an even more nightmarish second one.

I blinked, trying to decipher who these buyers were who would steal a young girl's hopes and dreams.

"Shall I start the bidding at one thousand dollars?" Simon's unctuous voice made me want to scratch his eyes out.

"I'll bid a thousand," a man with a husky voice said.

"The bid is at one thousand to Don Barone, thank you. Do I hear more?"

"Five thousand," another voice growled.

Was he serious? It would take me two months working three jobs to earn that kind of money.

I looked in the direction of the voice, and I thought I saw a man in blue, but I couldn't make out his features.

"The bid is at five thousand to King Trystan. There must be another bid," Simon purred like a greedy cat counting its bowls of cream.

A king? There was a king here bidding on me?

"Ten thousand," another voice chimed in.

This was insane. If Freddie had known I was worth this much, he would have auctioned me off ages ago.

"Thank you. The bid is at ten thousand to King Keir. Do I hear anymore bids?" Simon was speaking more quickly now, eager to hit that big jackpot.

Tears sprang to my eyes and fear clawed at my chest. What did these men expect in return for these outrageous bids?

"One hundred thousand," a soft male voice said quietly. It sounded like he was right next to me .

I turned too fast, trying to make out his features. The room spun around as if I were on a Tilt-a-Whirl.

"Thank you, sir. The bid is one hundred thousand—do I hear one hundred fifty?" The eagerness in Simon's voice made me ill. "No? Going once, going twice…"

There were no more bids.

"Sold…" His voice faded from my ears as my eyes rolled back in my head.

The Tilt-a-Whirl picked up speed. My stomach dropped to my feet. The room spun faster and faster, and I shut my eyes, trying to get off the crazy ride. My legs betrayed me, and I swayed.

Excited voices erupted around me. Oh god, they were going to punish me but good for this. My body swirled around, my head tilted back, and I fell backward, waiting to topple onto the hard floor.

But strong arms caught me.

Someone whispered in my ear, "It's all right. I won't let anyone hurt you. You're mine."

"No…" It was all I could muster before the darkness closed in, rescuing me from the nightmare.