1. River
CHAPTER 1
RIVER
T oday could fuck off.
I’d taken four loads in my ass already, and I just wanted to shut the world out. I was raw, bruised, and bleeding, and I knew it was just the beginning of a long weekend. Cum seeped from my abused hole and trickled down my thighs, making my threadbare jeans stick to me. I was nothing but a toy to be used for the enjoyment of others.
It was a fate I accepted long ago, because I was powerless to change it.
I’d become a favorite with clients who frequented Black Dahlia’s services. I might have been twenty-five, but I looked eighteen, and nothing sold better than a youthful face that fed into an old man’s fantasy. There were some sick fucks in this world. It didn’t hurt that I never spoke either, so my clients were free to maintain whatever illusion they’d created in their fucked-up minds.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t speak, but that I chose not to. What was the point of having a voice if no one listened? It only led to pain and rejection. The only person I’d ever willingly spoken to was Bane, but after he left, I didn’t see the point anymore. I didn’t trust anyone enough to open myself up to them.
I’d taught myself to handle physical pain by shutting my mind off and drifting away to that special place where dreams came true and I lived another life—one where I was happy, wanted, and needed. I hoped for love too, but I wasn’t sure what that felt like. Was that even possible when I was this broken? The fantasy came crashing down the second I opened my eyes, and the real world came back with a vengeance.
I swore to myself fifteen years ago that I’d never allow myself to feel emotions. A broken heart was impossible to heal. The muscle still beat in my chest, but I prayed to a god I didn’t believe in that it would give out before I had to endure another year of this existence I called life.
I shook my head and ran my hand through my hair as if that would clear those dangerous thoughts from my mind. I was a mass of contradictions. I dreamed about a life I’d never live, hating the one I’d been forced into but was too afraid to run away from. The irony wasn’t lost on me; running away from my last foster home was what landed me here. I left because I was afraid I’d get raped or beaten to death without Bane there to protect me. Where I ended up turned out to be even worse. It happened daily. If I tried to run, I’d get shot down like Hen did two years ago.
My ears picked up at the sound of the shower shutting off. I couldn’t wait for my turn. Not that I’d be clean for very long—it was Friday after all, and weekends meant we didn’t get a break. I loathed the feeling of the denim pulling against my skin almost as much as I hated being covered in another man’s cum.
“It’s all yours, Riv,” Dale called and shuffled out of the tiny bathroom we all shared. “Do you need anything?”
I shook my head and winced at the pain lancing down my neck from the sharp movement. The rope burns around my throat were red and pulsing, my collar irritating them. I took a step toward the bathroom instead of saying anything. Dale sighed and grabbed my notebook and pen, forcefully shoving them in my hand. I stared at them, not really here, my mind wandering. The light that had been in his eyes faded, just like my silent words.
“You being honest with me, Riv?” I blinked up at him and gnawed on my bottom lip. Dale looked at me as if he could peel back the layers to find the truth in my soul and puffed out a weighted breath when he couldn’t. It grated on me like sandpaper across my skin. “Who was your last client?”
I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, pulling off the cracked skin, and the metallic tang of blood coated my tongue. I shrugged instead of answering. My eyes dropped to my tattered old Vans with split soles. The right one leaked when it rained, and a prayer and peeling duct tape were the only things holding the left heel together.
Dale’s heavy gaze was suffocating. Tension thickened the air. He stepped closer to me, heat radiating off his body. The grip on my notebook tightened with every passing second. My knuckles bleached white as the skin pulled tightly around the prominent bones.
“Riv, talk to me,” he said softly, worry coating his words. “I can’t do much to help you, especially if you don’t talk.” His eyes tightened in exasperation.
My shoulders touched my ears as I retreated into myself. I didn’t want to tell him who I’d spent the day with. The johns that had booked me were feared more than any other client we serviced, and I bore their marks like a brand on my skin.
I sighed and scribbled down two words that invoked terror in all of us.
The Mitchells
That’s what we knew them as. They were regulars who often booked a few of us, but on the days they were feeling particularly cruel, they booked one of us and used our bodies until all we could taste was blood. The world faded away, and blackness became all we knew.
“Fuck!” His hands flew to his head, running them through his hair and pulling at the dark strands, drowning in helplessness. “Go get showered and get some rest. Fuck knows you’re going to need it.” The ominous tone of his last words should have piqued my interest, but it was already background noise.
The light flickered in the makeshift bathroom as I shut the door behind me and collapsed against it. The space was tiny, stunk of sewage, and had black mold climbing the walls. It had just enough room to fit a shower, a toilet, and a sink, and had barely enough room to hold a person. The floor was constantly under a film of filthy water, and someone had shattered the mirror over the sink with their fist long ago. If you looked close enough, you could see the rusty stain of old blood dripping down the wall behind it.
Pain seared my lungs as I inhaled. Gritting my teeth, I climbed onto the toilet and carefully stripped off my stained clothes. I couldn’t just leave them in a soggy heap on the floor—I’d have to wash them in the shower with me and hope they’d dry in time for when I needed them.
Time passed in a blur once the icy drops had numbed my skin and eased the ever-present pounding in my head. By the time I blinked back to the world, I was curled up on the old mattress I shared with Dale, teeth chattering a mile a minute. The rough fibers of the threadbare blanket covering me did little to retain heat.
“It’s okay, Riv. I’ve got you.” Dale slid his arm around me and pulled me into his body. His larger frame wrapped around my back, the heat from his skin slowly seeping into mine. “You can sleep now.”
My body took him at his word, and everything went dark as unconsciousness claimed me.
“Do you want a hit? You’re gonna need it to get through tonight.”
I glanced up at Gabe through my lashes as he poured the baggie of coke onto the cleared surface of the one dresser we had in our shared room. There were six of us in here, with three queen-sized mattresses between us. It was squalor at its finest.
We didn’t get nice clothes unless they were required for an appointment. We didn’t get to leave the room either, but as disgusting as these walls were, at least we were safe in here.
“He’s not wrong, you know,” Dale added, taking the straw from Max, who’d just taken a hit.
I knew that, but I hated drugs and the feeling of losing control of my body. It scared me that a john could do anything to me and it wouldn’t register. In a life where I had no control over the autonomy of my body, I clung to the tiny scraps I had.
“Come on, Riv.” Gabe held out his hand, hauled me up, and put the straw in my hand. “Let it take the edge off. I’ll give you another bump before we get there.” Dahlia had built tonight up to be something incredible for her business, which meant we needed to take whatever was forced upon us without question or there’d be serious repercussions. It was the fear her words invoked in me that made me accept Gabe’s hand.
My shaky fingers wrapped around the straw as I held it over the innocent-looking white powder and inhaled. It burned, probably due to being cut with shit that would kill us—if a john didn’t first—but I welcomed it. It let me know I was alive for a moment. A minute. A second.
The next thing I knew, we were being let in the back entrance of a swanky hotel. The sounds of a busy kitchen echoed down the corridor as they herded us like sheep into a service elevator. Black Dahlia had sent me, Dale, Gabe, and Max, with her compliments for the night.
Our handler, Sean, leered over his phone at me before going back to his Candy Crush game. The ride was smooth, but it did nothing to eradicate the dread sinking into my bones. Something was off, and it wasn’t just from the coke flooding through my veins. It was in the air, making the tiny hairs on my body stand on end, alerting me of danger. I couldn’t grasp on to it long enough before a wave of euphoria washed it away.
The elevator walls rippled around us like we were in a scene from The Matrix. Maybe it was the drugs, after all. I blinked, and pristine white walls replaced the steel ones, so bright and clean they made my eyes burn. Sean knocked on the door in front of us. The penthouse, according to the brass plaque.
It opened, revealing a man in a white shirt and black tie. He looked like a waiter. He ushered us inside and whispered into Sean’s ear. The oaf nodded and shut the door behind him. It was almost like he was never with us to begin with.
“Follow me,” Black Tie Guy said and led us into a laundry room. Turning, he looked down his nose at us. “Strip and put your clothes here.” He pointed to the empty counter. We followed his orders without question, the urge to fight long beaten out of us.
Shame regarding nakedness didn’t exist. Whether it was one-on-one, or in a room full of people, it didn’t matter. I didn’t care. I’d never had the chance to be a prude growing up the way I did. It just was what it was.
“Tonight is gonna be a shitshow,” Dale breathed, leaning over me to put his clothes next to mine in a neatly folded pile.
“Once you’re done, line up here,” Black Tie barked and pointed to the area by a stainless-steel sink. One by one, we stepped up, and the asshole snapped on a pair of latex gloves.
He shoved Max into the counter and pushed against his shoulder blades until his chest pinned against the cool granite. “You’re not allowed entry until I’ve searched you.”
It didn’t register what he meant at first, and my mind struggled to hold on to his words long enough to make them make sense. But I would never forget the sight of him ramming his hand up Max’s ass to do a full cavity search.
“Oh shit!” Gabe gagged.
“Silence!” Black Tie’s words were whip sharp.
I flinched, hunched my shoulders, and wrapped my arms around my chest. Retreat. Years of abusive words went off in my head like fireworks. The once visceral blows to my flesh echoed across my broken soul.
“Someone is on a power trip.” Dale pulled my hand from my face. “It’s going to be okay, Riv.” He squeezed my shoulder and took Max’s place.
Gabe took advantage of my distraction and shoved a pill down my throat, mouthing “swallow” before slipping around me to go next.
Once Black Tie searched all of us, he ushered us through the solid oak door into the penthouse. The lights were a low, deep red that colored the walls, making it seem like we’d just stepped into the second circle of hell. A low beat pulsed through the air, already saturated with the heady scent of sex and drugs.
Whatever Gabe had given me was taking effect, and a mellow buzz drowned out the rising hysteria clawing at my insides. A tall guy, face covered by a black mask, grabbed my arm and dragged me behind him to a table fitted with straps and surrounded by seven others.
“Heads or tails?” The man who’d dragged me over asked, laughing at his own joke. I tried to focus on their voices, but they were fading, just like the room around me.
My back landed on something hard and unforgiving as they pulled my arms and legs in opposite directions away from my body. I was slipping, and the world flickered and faded into blackness.
When I next opened my eyes, I couldn’t breathe. The world rocked like I was at sea in a storm, moving back and forth, back and forth. I tried to move my heavy limbs, but the straps held me down. My heart pounded in my chest, fighting to be free, while tears dripped down my face into my hair.
Screams filled the air. The music cut out and a bright light blinded me. I squeezed my eyes shut, and bile coated my tongue as I finally sucked in a breath. Intense relief flooded my body for a second as sweet, sweet air filled my lungs.
“Fuck! Run!”
Pain exploded in the back of my head as it hit something sharp, and blackness engulfed me once again.
“How is he looking?”
“He’ll come around soon. Should be ready for questioning in a few hours. Start with the others and see where you get.”
“Alright. Get him dressed when he’s with us and leave him in room five. I’ll get to him if I have time. If not, Ba—” A door closed, cutting off their conversation with a resounding click.
Sensation slowly came back to my body, but it was like moving through quicksand, and I hated it. My brain was trying to burst out of my skull, with every little movement only intensifying the pain. I tried to peel open my eyes, but the light made my gut churn until I lost the battle and vomit prised my lips apart, covering me and splattering on the floor.
“Oh, for god’s sake. Fucking junkies.” The door banged against a wall, and heavy footsteps moved into the room as another wave purged itself from my body. “Get this on me, and it’ll be the last thing you do, whore.” Rough hands grabbed my wrists and wrenched me up so hard, blackness claimed me again.
The cold metal felt good against my flushed skin and held my head up when I couldn’t. Didn’t have the strength anymore. My eyes pulsed with their own heartbeat, and the sound of blood whooshed in my ears. They had chained me to this table for what felt like days, but it was probably only hours. My mouth tasted like ass, like someone had stubbed a cigarette out on it. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I cracked an eye open and stared at the two-way mirror opposite me. I knew they were watching me, discussing me. They thought I was some fucked-up junkie, but I wasn’t, even though it might seem that way. Especially if they’d run a drug test on me after the hotel. But I didn’t really remember anything past being in that laundry room.
Alone and in itchy, ill-fitting scrubs, there wasn’t anything I could do but wait. Three different men had been in here to talk to me but lost their shit when I didn’t answer.
Didn’t.
Wouldn’t.
Couldn’t.
It didn’t matter to them; they thought I was purposely standing in the way of their investigation into trafficking and Black Dahlia. I wasn’t, not intentionally. I just couldn’t communicate with them on their level, and they despised me for it.
My throat was raw after throwing up so much. All I wanted was a drink of water to wash the acidic taste away, but that never came. I didn’t know if the other guys were here or if it was just me. I didn’t know if they were going to charge me or not.
I didn’t know anything.
I hated my life.
Footsteps echoed outside my door, then paused as the handle turned with an ear-piercing whine. Did they leave it like that on purpose to make people uncomfortable? It fucking worked. My skin crawled at the sound, and bright light burst behind my closed eyelids. A wave of nausea rolled through my empty stomach, the muscles clenching hard around nothing, making tears burn at the back of my eyes.
The air moved as the door swung open, warmth invading the room. The fresh scent of sunshine and salty waves washed over me, and my heart skipped a beat. A phantom memory tickled the edges of my mind, but I shoved that back into its box and buried it.
“Right, then, shall we get started?”
I’d heard the same words a dozen times already, but awareness prickled across me. The chains grated against the table as I pushed myself up. The room wavered in front of me, but my mind latched on to one sky-blue eye and another the color of the deep, dark woods.
He was a dream. A vision. A ghost.
He was everything I’d ever wanted, and that scared me more than death itself.
Folders crashed to the floor, creating a cacophony of sound that vibrated through me. I clenched my jaw as he fell to his knees with a resounding thud, a giant redwood on the forest floor.
“R-River?”
My dead heart leapt at the sound of his voice. Any resilience I thought I’d had to the delusions my mind created shattered, and tears flowed down my cheeks. “B-Bane?” I rasped, my unused voice dragging across broken glass as it clawed its way out of me, wrenching each sound from my shattered soul.