Chapter 11

Marissa

Sold.

I was sold.

That’s as much as I could tell.

After primping and preening and making us look as pretty as they thought possible, then brought out to the cages, those fucking, cold cages, they sold us. I came out last, after they covered up the bruise on my cheek.

The spotlight shone on stage so none of us could see the people bidding on us. I couldn’t hear anything, and could hardly see a thing, though I was aware of some sort of buzz around my sale. It seems they all want me. Why me?

They brought us to a holding room of sorts. There are chairs but no cuffs, and papers are being drawn up.

I tremble when I think about what will happen tonight. What will happen soon. I don’t know where we are or how long we’re here, but I’ve heard the summary of why we’re here.

Virgin auction.

It doesn’t take a degree to know what someone does after he’s purchased a virgin at an auction.

I close my eyes. I have to somehow get through this. Then maybe when we pull into a harbor or… something. Maybe I can swim away?

Do I know how to swim?

I remember so little of what I used to know. Who I was.

And even if I could get away, even if I do know how to swim, where would I go? I have no story for the police. I can’t remember anything at all.

And I’ll never get away. This I know. One of our own escaped for a night, before she was found. They took all of us in a room to make an example out of her.

Her screams will haunt me forever.

“Come, now, girls.” I look up to see the man who led the auction in the doorway. “One at a time, please.” He speaks to someone on his staff beside him, and they say something about “deliveries.” It takes me a minute to realize that we are the deliveries.

I’m being brought to the man who bought me. I wish I could have seen his face. I wish I could have somehow gotten a glimpse of his eyes. You can tell a lot about a person just by looking in their eyes.

I walk in line with the rest, determined not to cause any trouble. The smartest move for me right now is to stay right here, to go along with whatever they tell me. Fighting a crowd and escaping is impossible. Escaping from one man, however… that’s another story altogether. That I might be able to get away with.

Somewhere, far away, in a distant memory I can’t recall, I was more than this.

Maybe I still am.

I hold onto that.

Maybe I still am.

A girl beside me quietly weeps, and I try to assure her.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, my eyes on the guards. We aren’t supposed to be talking, and I have no doubt they’d still mete out punishment if they wanted to. Though we’ve been bought by people at the auction, we’re still under their authority while being delivered. I think, anyway.

What do I know? As soon as I try to form a thought, my mind grows hazy and confused. How long does it take for the drugs they gave me to leave my system? A part of me fears I might never recover fully.

The weeping girl drags her hand across her eyes and nose, her head bowed. She’s pretty, tall, with long blonde hair, and she has a grace about her. I wonder who she went to, and how he’ll treat her.

Will we stay aboard this ship? If so, for how long? Where will we go?

My thoughts jumble as we’re prodded along. Someone official looking is drawing up papers, and the bidders are standing by a table, signing things. At least I think they’re the bidders, as they’re well dressed and eye the line of women coming forward with eager, greedy eyes. They are not allowed access to us, though. After they sign papers, they are escorted out of this room.

I look at them, trying to decipher my future owner. Master, they call them. One of them will bed me tonight.

I freeze when my eyes come to one man, one thought crystal clear in the jumbled confusion of my mind.

Nicolai.

But why would I think Nicolai? He wouldn’t be aboard this ship bidding on women to buy. He’d kill the men responsible for such depravity, not become party to it. He looks my way, but turns away just as quickly.

For one moment, my breath catches in my throat. Is he? But no, he can’t be. He doesn’t look a thing like Nicolai, and yet he reminds me of him so much I’m shaken. This man is large, with broad shoulders, but he isn’t bulky like Nicolai. He’s thinner. He’s strong but lean, sinewy. He’s wearing tinted glasses so I can’t see his eyes, and I quickly let my gaze wander down to his neck and arms.

This isn’t him. Of course it isn’t him.

He doesn’t have the tattoos Nicolai did. My Nicolai had tattoos all along his neck, arms, shoulders, and back. This man wears a dress shirt, but there are fewer marks on his neck or hands than Nicolai had. He also looks so much older. Years older. He has short-cropped dark hair and a scruffy beard. Nicolai was clean-shaven and had a shaved head.

He isn’t him at all. He can’t be. Still, the resemblance makes my heart flutter in my chest before it sinks to the floor once more. He gives me one long, haunting look. And then he’s gone.

I can’t think about this right now. When I’m being led to a man who just bought me, I can’t think of Nicolai. I’ll never be able to get through this if I think of him.

We’re marched along a hall, and I realize as we walk that this ship is massive, some sort of luxury cruise ship, with multi-levels of floors, decorated with gleaming hardwood and crystal chandeliers. There are bars attended by formal bartenders on every floor, and brilliant outdoor lighting highlights a pool and several circular hot tubs outside on the main deck. After my months of captivity, this feels luxurious, with one caveat: I’m still someone’s property.

We’re brought into a large ballroom, and instructed to sit on the chairs lined in rows. Then one by one, the women are brought out, three guards to each woman. One on the left, one on the right, one behind her to make sure she doesn’t get away. I turn away in disgust. How could she? There is nowhere to go.

An eerie, utter silence descends upon us as our number dwindles. I was the last one auctioned. Will I be the last to be delivered? I can’t anticipate what will happen next, so instead I watch, as one after another, my companions are taken from our midst. Some still openly cry, but most of us sit in resigned silence. Punishment awaits defiance, and it seems foolhardy to earn that.

“You all should be proud of yourselves.” I look up to see the man from the office earlier standing in the doorway, smiling like an approving father. “You all fetched a pretty penny. You behaved very well.”

Proud? Of being worth more than the other stolen slaves? Is he mad?

I shiver in disgust, but my thoughts come to an abrupt halt when guards suddenly stand before me.

“Let’s go,” one says, as another silently reaches for me. I follow meekly. One holds my left arm and the other my right.

My legs won’t work. My knees knock into one another, full body tremors taking over my body.

“No,” I whisper, even though I know I will regret resisting. I shake my head, unable to move forward of my own accord.

“Yes,” one guard spits out angrily. “You should know by now what we expect.” His fingers cut into my arm, his too-long nails scraping my skin. I pull involuntarily away from him, but he only grips it tighter. The man on the other side steps closer to me. He, too, holds tighter than before. Between the two of them, they drag me away from the group of women. My toes drag along the floor, and I whimper. It hurts to be dragged by the arms, my shoulders and upper arms screaming in protest.

“Release her.”

I don’t look up. I can’t look up.

“Do as he says. He owns her now.”

It’s my future master addressing the guards, and I can’t risk anything at this moment. He stands a few paces in front of us, the very tips of his shoes the only thing I see.

The guards let me go as if I’m hot to the touch.

“Don’t you harm her, you fools,” the man in front of us snaps. “Do you wish to lose your job?”

“No, sir,” one says. The other falls silent.

Is my future master a kind man?

Dare I hope?

What even is kindness?

“Go to my room,” he orders me, gesturing down the long hallway. His voice sounds so familiar, I shiver with a visceral awareness. He sounds like Nicolai.

He stands to the side so I can’t see his face fully, but his instruction is clear.

I don’t know what’s the worse option, never again seeing Nicolai, or being forced to be in the presence of someone who reminds me of him.

I realize he’s dismissed the guards, and ordered me into his room alone. But he doesn’t come behind me. I walk into the open door, turn, and look down the hall.

I’m alone.

For the first time since my captivity, I’m completely alone. It feels… strange. No, worse. It feels wrong.

Unease floods me when I touch my wrists, free of cuffs. I expected I would feel different when finally freed from bonds. But I don’t.

My hands begin to shake and my breathing grows heavy. I try to still the trembling in my limbs, but I can’t. I look around the room for someplace safe—the metal bars of a cage. A confined space. A small piece of carpet for me to crawl onto. The room is beautiful, decorated in creams and golds, silken sheets and embroidered linens on the beds, but they may as well have thrown me in the middle of the ocean for all the comfort it brings.

I climb onto the middle of the bed. I don’t know where my future master is, but I can’t handle the vastness of this room, the freedom that makes me feel like I’m falling headfirst into a deep ravine.

I’m drowning. I’m being pulled under, unable to stop the way my chest constricts and air whooshes out of my lungs. I fall forward onto the bed, grasping at the silky sheets, but they’re foreign and luxurious. Nausea swirls in my stomach. I’m gasping for breath, my eyes closed, when strong arms come around me from behind.

“Stop moving.” The voice is deep and commanding and so beautifully familiar my skin prickles with instant awareness.

I freeze.

“Breathe,” the voice says. My eyes are closed, and I’m not here. I’m in another place and time, burrowed into the chest of someone strong and powerful, but the touch is only a memory. His hands are on my arms. Then why do I remember being held?

I’m so confused I begin to cry.

A door swings open and more voices speak over my head. I don’t know what they’re saying or why they’re here, but strong arms are lifting me and placing me back on the bed. I fall on my back, and as soon as I can, I bring my knees to my chest, hoping to still the incessant trembling. My eyes are closed as I rock back and forth, tears still sliding down my cheeks.

One voice commands the rest, and the other two fall silent. Footsteps fall, but I don’t open my eyes to see. Here, with my eyes closed and my knees pulled to my chest, no one can hurt me. No one can touch me.