Thorns of His Revenge

Prologue

SIENNA

The chill of the cargo hold seeped through the thin fabric of my dirty white nightgown, raising goose bumps along my arms. A drop of sweat tickled my skin as it dripped from my brow onto the dress, while the haze of panic and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint suffocated me.

I sat curled into the corner of the cell, knees pulled tightly against my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Around me, the cargo ship groaned and shuddered as it cut through the dark waters. Chains clinked. Metal screeched. The stale air smelled of rust, urine, seawater, and too many frightened bodies packed into too little space. I had no idea how long I’d been here, but it felt like eternity.

There were other girls in this cage-like cell. Some were crying. Others sat motionless and frozen.

And I… I no longer did either.

My screams and cries were extinguished along with a big piece of my heart and soul.

This was all Tyran Callahan’s fault. He dared me to hack into Perez Cortes’s account and wipe him clean. He must have set me up.

I fixed my eyes on a patch of rust on the steel wall outside this cage. If I stared at it long enough, maybe I could disappear through it into the dark ocean that would show me mercy by swallowing me whole.

Purple bruises mottled my arms and one leg. Every movement pulled at the ache in my neck, reminding me there were probably more I couldn’t see. I tried not to think about how they had gotten there. I tried not to think about anything at all.

The silence around me festered an agonizing itch inside of me that I couldn’t smother because I knew it wouldn’t last long.

But as I focused on that one spot, I prayed that it would, and I let my mind take me somewhere else where sunlight warmed my skin and the breeze caressed my hair. Just like my mom would do.

Then a muffled scream shattered through my escape. I squeezed my eyes shut.

No.

I’m not here.

I was back home. Back with my family

A lock rattled. The heavy iron door screeched open. Footsteps approached.

I, and every girl in the cell, went still, holding our stale breaths while our hearts threatened to break through our rib cages.

I kept my eyes closed.

If I couldn’t see them, perhaps they couldn’t reach me. I buried my face against my knees, pressing my palms over my ears. I tried to retreat deeper into the place inside my head—the only place they hadn’t taken from me.

But I already knew it wouldn’t be enough.

A shadow fell across the weak yellow light hanging from the ceiling.

“This one will do well at the auction,” one man sneered. “A virgin.”

“That means we can’t touch her,” another said. “Society will have our heads otherwise.”

“But we can make her suffer.”

The words settled over me like ice.

I opened my eyes.

Three men stood in front of me, one dressed in a dark suit and polished shoes. The other two looked like cargo men. All three watched me with cold, cruel expressions.

These men were monsters.

They looked at us as though we were cargo.

The man in the suit kneeled in front of me, his face getting uncomfortably close, too close, and I flinched before I settled my gaze on the rust on the wall again.

I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want to hear them. I didn’t want to smell them. I hated them all, but most of all, I hated Tyran Callahan.

I stared at the rust on the wall again and tried to disappear.

But there was nowhere to go. This was my hell.