Chapter 8 Amberly
AMBERLY
“Come. On!” Sutton exclaimed.
I heard her fists come down against the outer bathroom wall and I sighed.
“It isn’t going to be any use,” I said.
“There has to be a way out of here,” she murmured.
I watched her go over to the boarded-up window and attempt to smash the glass open.
She picked up a rickety chair in the corner, then tossed it against the glass.
And not only did it not break, but the board behind it didn't budge. However, the chair fell apart. Practically crumbled in Sutton’s hands as she stumbled back.
“The locks are on the outside of the door, right?” she asked.
I nodded. “Mhm.”
“You think anyone’s standing out there right now?”
“I think there’s a man standing out there, grinning at your attempt to get out. Yes.”
“Well, I’m about to barrel him the fuck over,” she murmured.
“Wait. What? Sutt—No! Stop!”
I watched her charge the fucking door, completely throwing herself against it.
And no sooner had she hit the floor, crying out in pain, the door rip open.
I rushed to get Sutton off the floor. We barely dodged the man’s swinging foot as he attempted to kick Sutton in her ribs.
I dragged her over to her bed, listening to her whimper as I brushed her hair away from her face.
“We’re fine. It’s fine. I’ll talk to her, okay?” I asked breathlessly.
But as my eyes made their way toward the man in the doorway, he snarled at me. I watched him shove his hand into his pocket before he took a phone call. As Sutton cried softly in my lap, my blood ran cold. I knew what was happening. I knew that look all too well after all these years.
And the second he hung up the call, he came for me.
“Come on. You’re on the clock,” the man said.
“What?” Sutton asked breathlessly.
“You’re coming with me. We have a private room established,” the man said.
“I thought I had the week off. Wait—wait a sec—hold on!” I exclaimed.
“No!” Sutton shrieked.
The man grabbed me by my arm and ripped me off the bed. I stumbled on my feet, unable to see straight since I hadn’t eaten in six or seven hours. My world crashed down around me. I was supposed to have the week off. I was told I’d been a good girl, and that I deserved the time off.
“Please. Please, I should have three more days. Just call your boss. Please,” I said as tears streamed down my face.
“We’re short a girl. Time for you to woman up,” the man said gruffly.
“No,” I said as hiccupping sobs fell from my throat.
“Let. Her. Go!” Sutton exclaimed.
Being short a girl meant one of the customers had killed someone.
Again. Whether he choked her too hard, beat her too much, or whether she’d been much too starved for her heart to handle the orgasms forced over us.
Whatever had happened, I was meant to take her place.
Which meant the possibility of being in a room by myself again.
I didn’t want that to happen. I wanted to stay with Sutton.
She was the only company that wasn’t paid company I’d had in over three years. And I didn’t want to leave.
“Please, I’ll do anything. Just don’t—”
Sutton cried out in the room before a crashing sound caused the man to groan out.
Through my tears, I watched his hand fall away from me before he hit the floor.
I felt Sutton’s warm, strong grip around my other arm as she pulled me away from him, tossing me back onto the bed.
And as she stood there, with the frame of the rickety chair above her head, I saw the man who usually guarded our door quickly leap off the ground.
“You’re gonna pay for that, you little bitch,” the man snarled.
“Back. The fuck. Off. She’s got more vacation time to cash in with you assholes. Or does my father really not run a smooth operation around here?” she asked.
“I don’t give a shit about her vacation. Only about what my boss has said.”
“You mean, what Vlad’s told you?” I asked softly.
I watched the man shove Sutton out of the way, and I scrambled across the bed.
But I wasn’t as limber or as quickly as I used to be.
My feet didn’t even hit the floor before his hands were on me again.
He gripped my arm with one hand and wrapped his hand in my hair with another, tugging on me.
I flew through the air, Sutton screaming out before the man grunted again, but his hands didn’t fall away from me.
He cursed. Furniture continued to break around the room.
It wasn’t until Sutton squealed out in pain, however, that his hands fell away from me.
“Stupid little bitch!” the man roared.
I turned around, lifting my head long enough to see the man backhand Sutton across her face. She whimpered of pain. I already saw the blood on her lip. And as the man turned back to me, I drew in a deep breath.
“You just backhanded Lars’ daughter!” I shrieked.
The man paused, looking at me with a quizzical look as Sutton picked herself up off the floor.
“Yep. I’m bleeding,” she said flatly.
“Say what now?” the man asked.
“That’s Sutton Norden. And you just busted her lip,” I said, my voice trembling.
I shook against the mattress of the bed, trying to garner the energy to be strong.
But I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which was easily six hours ago.
My brain was mush. My stomach, practically distended.
Tendrils of my hair slowly slid down my back.
Falling out the way it always did because of malnutrition and men pulling at my locks much too hard.
Saint had never pulled that hard.
I shook the thought away from my mind as the man slowly looked over at Sutton.
“It’s true. I’m Lars’ daughter. And when he finds out you busted my lip wide open without permission from him? You’re gonna be the next dead girl they find,” she said.
I swallowed my giggle as I sat on my knees on the mattress. Like I’d been trained all these years to do. The motion was second nature, whether I meant what the position stood for or not.
It had become almost comfortable, in a sickening way.
“I bet if he finds out you’re starving her, too, he won’t like it,” I said.
“Yeah, definitely not,” Sutton said.
“I need to figure this shit out,” the man murmured.
Then, much to my relief, he stormed out the door and closed it behind him. Locking the locks before I heard him yelling into his phone down the damn sidewalk.
“Thank you so much,” I said breathlessly.
Sutton rushed over to me, wrapping me in her arms as she pulled me against her.
For the first time in years, I was being comforted by someone.
And the tears flowed effortlessly. I cried against her, smelling the blood and spit on her lip as she stroked my hair.
She gasped as a few more tendrils came out with ease.
She brought a blanket over our bodies as my tears quickly ran dry from dehydration.
We sank underneath the covers, shrouding ourselves from the world as she wiped at my face.
“You know, people will be coming for me. An entire crew named the Dead Souls. I bet they’ll take you with us. If you want,” Sutton said softly.
I sniffled, reaching over to wipe the blood off her lip. We cleaned one another up as our sniffles and cries turned to giggles and sighs. My sobbing dried up. Her lip stopped bleeding. And for once, I felt a pang of hope. One that might lead to my freedom. One that might lead to my safety.
One that might lead to me finding Mason.
“You think they would?” I asked.
She nodded. “They do some sketchy things sometimes, but when a woman’s in trouble? They never hesitate to save her. Stick with me, and I’ll make sure you get out of here.”
“And if you stick with me, I’ll make sure those men never drag you off to do what I’ve had to do for years.”
Sutton held out her pinky and I wrapped mine around hers.
She kissed her hand on the opposite side, and I mocked her movements.
Then, she smiled. Which caused me to smile.
I mean a genuine smile, too. One that hurt my cheeks the more it grew.
We giggled as we snuggled deeper under the covers, and I pretended I was crawling into the earth.
Into a hole I’d dug for myself that would dump out at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
“I promise, I’ll always take care of you while we’re in this mess,” I said.
“I promise the same thing. And in return for your protection, I’m getting you out of here,” Sutton said.
“And in return for yours, I’ll—”
I paused before a snicker left my lips.
“Well, I’ll figure out something.”
The two of us giggled again. Something I didn’t think was possible in a scenario like this. We heard the man coming back to our doorway and the two of us froze. Sutton threw the covers off our heads. The two of us watched the door like hawks, ready to scatter at a moment’s notice.
But, instead of throwing the door open, the man took up his station. Silent as a jaybird, and not an ounce to say to either of us.
“You think he’ll bring us food?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know. But we gave it our best shot. Right?” Sutton asked.
And, like clockwork, both of our stomachs growled out.
“I think we should start splitting our meals in half. Just in case this happens again,” I said.
“Does this happen often?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Every once in a while. I used to be in the habit of doing that with my meals. But I stopped a few months ago because they became pretty regular. A small breakfast, a massive lunch, and a small dinner. You know, so I wouldn't look bloated for my customers.”
She snickered as she shook her head, then pulled me close against her again.
“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through these past few years,” she said softly.
And as I wrapped my arms around her, cradling her the way she cradled me, I sighed.
“It helps to compartmentalize as much as you can,” I said.
But, really, the only thing that kept pushing me along was the promise of seeing my son one day.
Mason. My boy.
My sweet boy I hadn’t seen in almost three fucking years.