Chapter 5 #3

I pulled the chair out and sat down without touching the drink. Every gesture he’d made since bringing me here snapped into focus around this idea of turning me into a club girl.

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d be,” he stated calmly. “I figured you might want a drink.”

I nodded but didn’t reach for it. The club girl’s voice still echoed in my head, slowly peeling away the illusion that Fuse was a nice guy.

He was just a more manipulative Viper. Viper was brutally honest about being exploitive.

Fuse wasn’t even that. They were both one percenters.

Men who made up the rules as they went along.

Then expected everyone they came into contact with to follow them.

His messed up rules allowed him to stand in a crowd and bid on another human being without even feeling guilty.

What I hated most was this manipulative bastard made me hope that I could have a better life, knowing all along what he had in store for me. Fuse’s mind games were crueler than anything Viper did to me.

Lifting my chin, I told him, “I have something to say, and I want you to hear me out.”

“Alright. You sound extra angry right now,” he replied warily.

“I’ve been extra angry this whole time, I just found the courage to speak up for myself.”

“Okay, darlin’, say what you gotta say.”

“I don’t appreciate being trafficked,” I bit out. Buying and selling women is wrong on so many different levels.” I continued, the anger in my churning gut getting the better of me. “How can you not see that?”

If I had expected him to get defensive, I would have been very much mistaken. Instead, he agreed with me.

“You’re right,” he stated with quiet dignity. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

His agreement threw me for a loop because I honestly wasn’t expecting that. I’d expected him to make excuses, try to justify his actions or remind me that what was done was done and he owned me now. I didn’t expect him to sound earnest and regretful. Somehow that only made it all worse.

“If you knew it was wrong,” I asked, my voice shaking despite my best effort to keep it under control, “then why did you bid on me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Then he answered my question.

“I couldn’t stand there and watch you go with them,” he said finally.

“The clubs who hung until the end of the bidding cycle were the worst of the worst. They pimp women out until they’re nothing but a hollowed-out shell of their fuckin’ former self.

I didn’t want that for you. You’re too young and innocent. ”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to look away. “What do you mean?”

He cleared his throat and tried his best to explain without coming right out with the grimy details. “You don’t wanna know what they would have done to you,” he responded, his voice quieter now. “Those men are depraved beyond belief.”

A bitter sound escaped me before I could stop it. “I just spent days imagining what they would do to me if they got the chance. It was some pretty dark shit if I’m being honest.”

His expression became distant and unreadable.

“You’re safer here, with us.” he said with the kind of finality that told me he thought he’d said enough.

Unfortunately, it was what he didn’t say that made my stomach churn all over again. He’d said I was safer here. There was no mention of me being free in any true sense of the word, just safer.

Safer.

Not safe.

That meant Fuse saw himself and his club brothers as the better option for an owned woman like me.

Sure, they’d exploit the hell out of me, but they’d refrain from all the debasement the worst clubs had in mind for me.

That was basically what he was saying. There was no real question about me being owned.

Did he expect me to thank him for exploiting me without all the grim shit that really depraved men seemed to enjoy?

That was absolutely not happening, not in this lifetime.

That club girl had been right. This was really how slaves were made for one percent clubs.

They made you feel safe, wanted, and protected, and afraid of what was out in the world, so you stopped trying to get away.

They wanted me to settle for a half-life, instead of a normal one.

I snapped my mouth shut because I needed to play along, see if this job was a real one, and make some kind of solid plan to get out of this place once I had enough money saved up.

“I want to go to my room,” I said, forcing the words out before I really flew off the handle. “If that deal is even still available.”

He nodded immediately, no hesitation, no argument. “Of course it is. I won’t ever penalize you for speaking your mind.”

“How generous and accommodating. Am I supposed to thank you for that?”

Fuse glanced away, his jaw tight. “Of course not. If you want to turn in for the night, go ahead.”

I pushed my chair back and stood. I refused to look at him again.

I couldn’t stand to see that open expression of caring on his face, now that I knew it was all an act to reel me in.

If I was being honest, I felt the pull of it before I knew what he was up to.

I was sure as hell not making that mistake again.

I walked away without waiting for him. My feet swiftly carried me away from his concerned expression.

I didn’t look back as I climbed the stairs.

The sounds from the bar faded with every step.

Once I was at the top of the stairs and out of his sight, I practically ran into the room he said was mine.

I slipped inside, closed the door behind me, and flipped the deadbolt.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring around the room, reminding myself that this was the one place in the clubhouse that belonged to me. It was a favor granted to me by my owner.

Even though I locked the door, I still didn’t feel safe.

My gaze swept the room, searching for anything else I could use to further secure the door.

The desk against the wall caught my notice.

It looked strong enough to make anyone forcing the lock to think twice about trying to muscle their way in. I shoved it across the floor.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, my hands were still trembling.

I’d spent my entire life learning how to survive.

Growing up with my father had left me no other choice.

His drinking made him unpredictable, and his gambling made everything financially unstable.

I’d learned early to stay quiet, to stay alert, to stay one step ahead so I didn’t get caught in whatever mess he’d created.

I’d learned to read moods, and to anticipate danger before it showed itself. That was how I’d made it this far.

I’d been so close to escaping. College had been my way out.

I had filled out my financial aid applications in secret.

I’d thought with the best laid plans that I could break out of the life he’d built around me.

Instead, he’d sold me into an even worse situation.

I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d done to deserve this miserable hand I’d been dealt in life.

But feeling sorry for myself didn’t change the fact that I now had fewer choices than ever before. My immediate choices were to sit in this room and spiral, or I could do what I’ve always done and logic my way out of this latest round of bullshit shoveled my way.

Leaving right now wasn’t really an option.

Running would provoke Fuse, and I didn’t know enough about him to predict how he’d react.

He acted calm and reasonable but lots of men do.

My father presented like a mild-mannered businessman.

He was anything but that once you got to know him.

It would be foolish to forget how easily men can flip on you once you stop doing what they want.

He might seem nice, but he’d still bought me at a damn auction.

Thanks to that club girl, I knew what he was expecting to gain in return.

The smartest thing I could do was stay. Work the job and accept what he offered me.

Let him believe I was buying all his bullshit.

When his guard was down and I had money of my own, I’d disappear.

It was the best plan I could think of at the moment.

As long as he didn’t start beating me or expecting me to repay him with my body, that is.

If either of those things happened, I’d contact Cassandra and ask her to take me to the women’s shelter.

That’s if her offer was genuine.

I leaned back and slowly sank into the soft bed, staring at the ceiling as I made a mental list of everyone who’d earned my hatred.

My father was holding strong in the top position purely because of the years I’d been at his mercy.

Fuse wasn’t far behind. He might have acted kinder than the others, but he’d still bought me and was planning to manipulate me into becoming a club girl.

Every biker on planet earth came right after Fuse.

They were all men who lived by a creed that involved owning human beings.

Cassandra’s face surfaced in my mind. I couldn’t hate her. She truly believed they were good men. She probably only saw what they allowed her to see. And because of that, she didn’t understand how depraved they really were. She was simply a wife who’d accepted her husband’s version of the truth.

Tomorrow would come whether I was ready or not. Another day of pretending. Another day of surviving. Another day of watching for the moment when I could take my life back.

But tonight, the door was locked and barred. I’d be safe, at least for now.

I pulled the burner phone out of my pocket and switched it on.

The screen lit up immediately, showing full signal and active data.

That surprised me. I hadn’t expected it to actually work.

Not that I had anyone to call. I opened the browser first, testing it, then switched to the music app.

My account loaded without hesitation, my playlists appearing exactly where I’d left them.

For a moment, I just stared at the screen, at the pieces of my old life still waiting for me.

I selected one of my playlists and relaxed as the music began to play. The familiar sound filled the room, and I couldn’t help but smile. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me, holding onto each note like a long-lost friend.

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