Chapter Forty-Four
Rosalie
I can feel the rocking motion beneath me. Tires bump along a road, and the sounds of vehicles traveling beside me are muffled. The cold bites into my skin, and as I peel my eyes open, I’m met with complete darkness.
My whole body aches as I register I’m lying on my side.
My lips tremble from the drop in temperature as one of my hands slides along something smooth.
It takes me a moment to get accustomed to my surroundings.
I’m disoriented, and my heart finally catches up as it pounds impossibly fast. Everything rushes back to me as I scramble up and backpedal until my shoulders hit a wall.
There’s cooled metal behind me, and I make the connection.
I’m in a refrigerated truck.
My hand slides over the wall, my brows furrowing as the truck hits a huge bump and I’m jostled back and forth. I catch myself before I can fall over and then pull the bottom of my dress down as much as possible. My skin is pricking with the cold, and my teeth chatter.
How long have I been out?
Where am I?
Who’s driving?
The questions assault me as I wrap my arms around my knees. I try to piece together how long I’ve been gone, but it’s impossible with the darkness of the truck. I have no connection to the outside world. I have no connection to the guys…
Oh, god.
Have they even realized I’m missing?
If I’ve only been gone for a few minutes—hours—it’s possible they’re still oblivious.
What if they can’t find me?
I have no idea where I’m being taken, but as my dad’s words circle my psyche, horror grips me.
I’m being sold, that much is obvious. I’ve heard the ghastly stories of women being trafficked and brought thousands of miles away from their homes.
I’ve listened to haunting recounts of those who were rescued, but not before facing the harsh reality of it all.
Those stories rattled me to the bones, but I never thought it would happen to me…
The truck lurches to a stop, and I shoot up. If I’m going to make it out of this, I need to find an escape. I place my hands on the floor beneath me, pushing up onto my knees as I feel around for something. When I make it to the back of the truck, I bang my fist on the doors.
“Help me!” I shout, my voice croaking as I continue to beg and plead brokenly to anyone who may be near. The truck lurches again, and I’m sent face-first into the metal. My nose hits, and I hiss as I right myself and continue banging on the door.
I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
This is life or death, and long ago, I would have chosen death. I would have thought the fate forced upon me was the way of the sick world, but now? I need to get out. I need to make it back home. To the three men who have mended something that was long broken inside of me.
I have to be strong.
For them.
I pound until my hands are sore and aching. I scream until my throat scratches and pricks. Even with exhaustion and pain weighing me down, I don’t stop fighting.
When the truck comes to another stop, I pound harder on the door. Each sound echoes past my lips like a record stuck on repeat, but I need someone to hear me. Anyone.
There’s the sound of a lock sliding on the outside of the door, and I gasp before shoving back deeper into the cab. One of the doors swings open, bathing me in bright sunlight.
It’s the afternoon.
I’ve been gone for almost a full day.
Dad scowls at me through his lashes before hefting himself up into the back. My heart ricochets around my ribcage as I hold my hands up.
“Quit being so fucking loud!” He snaps as he shoves his unkept, sweat-soaked hair away from his eyes.
He steps towards me, the sound of his boots bouncing around the truck.
He squats down in front of me, the smell of sharp acidic perspiration and the unmistakable bite of alcohol nearly makes my stomach revolt.
He snatches my hair harshly, angling my head as my lips pull over my teeth.
“I’ll put you to sleep again if I have to, Rosalie.
Don’t make me hand you off while you’re hanging onto the brink of death. ”
There’s something I’ve always wanted to do to my father. Call it a little parting gift, if you will. I bring my saliva forward before spitting. It sprays across his eyes, and his face twists in disgust.
“Good to see you again, Dad.” I gloat viciously. I’m in no position to be acting like I have some upper ground, but he doesn’t scare me anymore. Not like he used to.
He nods his head as if he’s made up his mind before his elbow rears back and he delivers a slap so hard it causes my head to whip to my right, and my ears ring. Pain travels through my jaw as I work it until it fades. My eyes flicker to him. “Is that how you slapped her, too?”
Something passes behind his eyes. “Who?”
“My mother,” I whisper.
He wrenches me back as he tosses me onto the bed of the truck. He stands, towering over me as light bathes him from behind. “I should have done far worse to that bitch. I’ll give it to Joanna, though. She gave me one hell of a replacement.”
His words make my blood run cold as I lift myself onto shaky arms.
He chuckles darkly, the sound making my muscles tense and lock up. “Did you ever wonder why she ran off, Rosalie?”
I don’t see his leg angle back until it’s too late. His boot connects with my ribs, and I fall onto my side as my arms curl around my throbbing abdomen. The breath wheezes past my lips as I cough and hack.
He holds his hands out as if he’s some fucking messiah and not a sick, twisted old man who has tried to exploit his own daughter for money.
“She knew she was next!” His deranged cackle fills the truck as he paces before me.
“That’s why she fucking left! I used to make her hook on the corner for money!
She was a pathetic prostitute, but a favorite among her clientele.
” He squats back down, and I flinch. Satisfaction with my reaction bursts in his eyes as he gives me a sinister smirk.
“I wanted to sell her too, you know? She was a pretty piece of ass, but now, her daughter can take her place.”
His hands claw at me, hoisting me up. I try to fight, my legs kicking and my nails digging into his arm as I try to rip at his fucking skin.
He only squeezes me tighter, taking away my air as he drags me out of the truck.
He tosses me onto the concrete of a vacant parking lot, and I roll before picking myself up onto trembling arms.
“Why the fuck is she covered in blood?” A new voice asks, and my head whips up.
Three men are leaning against a black van.
The one who spoke is the tallest and oldest in the group.
He looks to be in his late forties with thick, black aviators covering his eyes and weathered hands.
His voice sounds like pure gravel, rough and unforgiving.
I don’t miss the bulging muscles that seem to strain his dark t-shirt.
The man to his right is younger, maybe thirty? He has a lean build with long legs that stretch for miles. He’s also smirking at me hungrily, as if he can see beyond my clothes. Something unpleasant and revolting crawls up my neck, and I look away from him.
The last man is stout and seems to be around the same age as the first. His belly is big and rounded, and his beady eyes pierce me from behind the wire-framed glasses that rest over the bridge of his nose.
All three of these newcomers make sirens blare in my head. They have a distinct aura—like they command darkness and have found peace with their skills. They’re predators in every sense.
“Doesn’t matter,” Dad says as he hops down from the truck. “One pop star, as requested. I’ll take cash.”
The group's leader turns to the lanky man. “Get her for me, Sal. I want a closer look.”
Sal’s eyes light with fascination as he stalks towards me.
I push back only for Dad to use a boot to kick me towards the hunter closing in on me.
Sal wraps his thin fingers around my bicep, hoisting me up as his hands paw at my hips.
I whimper low, turning my face away from his as he gets uncomfortably close to me.
“Hey, there, beautiful.” He croons, his putrid breath making my eyes sting with tears. His touch feels wrong. Dirty. “What’s your name?”
“R-Rose,” I manage past trembling lips.
He hums. “Not for long. I think we’ll call you Candy. How does that sound?” When I don’t respond, he takes that as an invitation to keep going. “You just smell so sweet…” He drags me closer until our noses almost touch, and my face screws up. “I bet you taste sweet, too.”
My stomach is churning. My skin feels like it’s too tight everywhere he touches. I hate it.
He drags me over to his friends, presenting me with a sweeping hand that ghosts over my left breast. “How does Candy sound? She’ll sell quickly.”
The leader slides his sunglasses over his forehead as haunting, dead hazel eyes roam over me. He rubs his chin as if he’s in deep thought. “You’re the real deal, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on talk shows.”
“Holden,” The pudgy man says with urgency. “We need to get on the road.”
Holden holds a hand up, silencing his accomplice. “Jeremy, pay the man in full. We’ll take good care of Candy.”
Jeremy nods before opening the van's back door and pulling out a suitcase. He doesn’t open it as he hands it off to Dad.
“Twenty mill. It’s all there.” The rounded man says.
Dad doesn’t bat an eye as he salutes them. “A pleasure doing business with you.”
“We’ll be in touch, Waylon,” Holden says, giving my father a pointed look. “I expect to see you at the safe house with the next shipment in two days.”
Dad climbs back into the truck. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
He slams the door, sealing my fate as I’m shoved into the back of the black van, and Sal roughly ties my hands together. I get one good kick on his jaw before he rubs a hand over the inflicted area. “Oh, I like them feisty. I may have to try you out first, Candy.”
My heart sinks as he slams the door, and I’m left in the dark for a second time.