Prologue
RóISIN
The cage is so small, I have to hunch over to be able to fit, even while I’m sitting. I’ve always been tall, and it’s not doing me any favors now.
Gazing downward to avoid eye contact, I struggle not to pull at the meager amount of clothing I’m allowed to wear.
The bralette is fighting to hold in my breasts, and the black thong won’t keep me warm, especially with the way the cold grate makes indentations in my skin.
I’ve been living in this hellscape for the last two years, and today is my eighteenth birthday.
While this would be cause for others to celebrate, it fills me with dread. Nothing good ever happens on my birthday anymore.
Peeking up at the activity surrounding me, I watch as the decorations go up and the tables are put together. Cathal has a huge party happening tonight, and my cage is in a corner, where he put me, intending for me to watch.
“You’re an important part of tonight,” he told me.
God, I hate him so much. I’ve been sitting here long enough that my ass is numb, the tables have been set up around an open space, and various people have been in and out of the room. I don’t know what he’s planning, but it’s sure to be terrible for me.
Shuddering, I suppress a whimper. It won’t help me to get noticed right now. He brought people outside of his organization in to set up for tonight, and it says a lot about humanity that not one of them glances at me with more than curiosity.
I’m only supposed to be out of my cage to stretch as part of dancing practice.
This happens once a day for several hours, and I have to make sure I shower and use the bathroom during this time as I won’t get another chance.
As an omega, I crave to be clean, and that’s difficult in my current situation.
I’m left alone in the cage with one bottle of water for hydration for the rest of the day.
I’m Cathal’s prized possession, however, he only gives me the minimum that I need in order to stay in perfect dancing shape. I often have to spend hours stretching to be able to dance, and even then, I still feel sore.
If I needed to dance competitively, I’d be fucked. Instead, I’m Cathal’s pretty little dancer. Captive, and all his, unless he decides to share.
On the days that I’m lucky, Cathal sends me one of his sons when he remembers to feed me. The best part of my day is when they defy their father and let me crawl out of my cage to eat. It doesn’t happen often, yet the tears of gratitude always flow when it does.
You’d think that after the last two years I would be used to this treatment, but I’m not. I used to have a family that loved me. When I showed an interest in dancing, they embraced it. My mama would tell me how pretty I was, and went to all of my practices and performances.
I loved the attention and feeling like I was special, until I caught the attention of Cathal Toal. He slaughtered my parents the day I turned sixteen and turned me into his little dancer. I only perform when he demands, and my birthdays are no longer a day that I celebrate.
On my seventeenth birthday, he ripped away my virginity while his sons jerked off until the three of them came on my face.
Cathal held my dark hair to give them their canvas, all while barking out instructions.
His sons are a few years older than me, and there was a gun within his reach, a warning that he would punish us all if we didn’t do as he wanted.
I can remember the way they smelled, how I wanted to beg them to touch me, yet they never did, and how much everything hurt. It was such a disturbing way to feel, yet I still remember some sort of connection with them, even now.
I can’t explain it, but I do remember the pain. I felt as if I was being ripped open, while Deacon, Balor, and Dorian watched without remorse.
I think we all lost a large part of our humanity that night. I bled from every one of my holes, and my slick didn’t help me in any way. Everything felt overstretched, and I couldn’t keep up with the abuse, especially when Cathal decided to share me with his two brothers.
Being forcibly knotted as a young omega in all of your holes isn’t a good time. I actually cried when I found out my designation a few days after Cathal kidnapped me. I fucking hate being one, and I knew this would make things so much worse for me.
There are too many things that affect my mood from day to day, which is why I spend so much time living in my head. It’s exhausting, and the creature comforts that omegas yearn for aren’t in the cards for me.
As for Cathal, he couldn’t have children, so the boys that he adopted were stolen from other people.
They’re as much orphans as I am, and at times I think I have sympathy for them.
I shouldn’t with how involved they are in keeping me their father’s prisoner.
They call him father, obey him, and I doubt they remember their own biological parents.
I’ve picked up parts of their histories from the loose lips around the compound that pass by my prison. It doesn’t matter how gilded this place is, I still exist in a small metal cage.
The sound of a cart pulls me from my thoughts, and I gasp as it hits the side of the cage.
“Up you go,” a bright female voice says. “Alec, place her right on the steel deck. Be careful of bruises. We can’t have her spoiling like an overripe peach before tonight.”
Sure, let’s wait till after? That would be just wonderful…
My fingers curl for stability in the metal of the cage when it becomes airborne, and I keep my eyes on my thighs.
I don’t want to know the faces of the people who cart me from place to place like an animal if I can help it.
It’s already happening, it feels worse somehow to attach faces and names to it.
Swallowing hard, I glance back at the flurry of activity I’m leaving. A platform is going up for what looks to be a band, and wood flooring is being laid down. I have a feeling I’ll be expected to perform in one way or another tonight.
Forcing air into my lungs, I remind myself that panic attacks will not help me.
Survival depends on a deep well of calm only found within me.
Since I spend so much time alone, I meditate to pretend I’m somewhere else.
Sometimes I’m six and dancing for parents and being silly, others I’m at the beach, playing in the waves.
It doesn’t matter where it is, as long as it's a memory where I was once happy. Happiness doesn’t live at Toal Manor. It’s where it goes to die instead.
Turning away, I force myself to pay attention to my surroundings. I curl my toes under to force them to cramp, a small way that I keep from disassociating. Since my escape from reality is used so liberally, it can be hard for me to stay in the moment.
I’m taken deep into the house, bypassing anything that I recognize.
Finally, I’m wheeled into a beautiful bedroom.
Instead of feeling relief, my heart begins to pound.
Everything here comes at a price. I never get anything nice, instead I’m only given just enough to continue to live and keep my curves.
This can’t be good.
The cage is lifted and I’m dropped on the ground, making me swallow back a scream of fright.
“Alec!” the woman scolds. “What is wrong with you?”
The door is opening and I see a woman with pinched features and tightly pulled back hair peering inside. In my surprise, I looked up in curiosity.
“Out you go then,” she grumbles. “Mr. Toal mentioned that you’ll need to stretch your limbs before we get started.”
Pressing my lips together to hold back any noises of pain, I force my body to move. I don’t know what’s coming, but it’s sure to be bad. Every single muscle in my body screams from being in a cramped position, and I move at a snail’s pace.
“She’s so slow,” a voice groans. The huge feet beside the woman make me believe this is Alec, the man who threw my cage.
“Alec,” the woman hisses, confirming my suspicions. “You’d be just as slow if I shoved your big body in that tiny space.”
I refuse to take her words as a kindness. She’s obviously working for Cathal, which means he’s pulling her strings. When I finally get out of the cage, I begin to stretch my muscles, hiding my winces beneath my long hair.
“Work out the kinks,” the woman mutters. “You will be performing tonight. Mr. Toal asked me to be sure I told you. You have two hours before I’ll come back to begin to prep you for everything. I’m locking the doors.”
My head snaps up at her words, and I look longingly at the bathroom door that’s ajar.
“No, I won’t be locking that up, girl. What kind of monster do you think I am?”
Alec and the woman bustle out of the room with the cart, and as soon as the door closes, I hobble toward the bathroom.
Everyone is a monster if they’re paid enough for the pleasure.