Chapter Forty-Six
Rosalie
Arriving at the ‘safe house’ is a surreal experience. My ribs are throbbing as I lie slumped in the back of the van. I only register we’ve stopped when I’m thrown forward, and the tires slide on what sounds like gravel. I hear feet crunching across the rocks before the back door is thrown open.
Sal smirks at me. “Welcome home, beautiful. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
My fear revs as he reaches for me. He snatches my ankle before yanking me down the edge of the van.
I thrash, cursing him as he lifts me by my waist and carries me up the steps of a wraparound porch.
The house is large with multiple stories and gingerbread trim around the gables.
The dark paint on the outside is slightly muted by the years it’s stood upright, and the porch's wood is weathered.
The other two men walk ahead, conversing casually as I’m hauled forcefully into the house.
Before Sal can shove me past the threshold, I get a good look at the surrounding neighborhood.
It’s dilapidated and long forgotten. Old, off-center homes sit withered and overgrown with vegetation, and I note one house with a broken-down vehicle idling in the driveway.
We’re isolated.
Sal drags me into a dimly lit foyer, and my eyes flicker over the curved ceiling adorned with intricate crown molding.
The pale walls are empty, and there seems to be no bright lights anywhere in the home.
The carpet beneath my feet is blood red and stained.
There’s a mahogany staircase to my right, and I can make out the sounds of other men laughing heartily from the living room down the hall.
Sal slides a lock into place on the door, and the alarm system blinks on, signaling that there’s no way out. I swallow past the bile rising in my throat as we break off from the group and I’m forced up the steps.
“Luna!” Sal bellows up the stairs behind me. “New blood!”
I don’t like the sound of that. Not at all.
No one answers him as we trudge up to the second floor. Sal grabs the back of my dress, angling me down a long hall of rooms. My muscles coil at his touch, and my eyes close as my tears threaten to fall.
I hate him touching me.
“Luna!” He shouts, growing agitated.
One of the doors creaks open before a head of platinum blonde curls pokes out.
Luna.
Luna Blackthorne.
She’s a heavy metal artist who climbed the ranks rather quickly after her label thrust her to the top.
She was making waves in the music scene with her heavy vocals that sang of loss and despair.
Then, she vanished off the face of the Earth three months ago.
Her social media has been dead, and all of her fans speculated that she was faking her own death. Seeing her here is jarring.
She’s petite with mousy features and warm brown eyes. Her looks don’t fit her feral, hardcore vocals. She’s dressed in cut-off shorts and a black tank top. Her legs, long and shapely, stretch for miles as she stands barefoot in the doorway.
I would think she was helping the men who kidnapped me. If it weren’t for the swollen black eye she’s sporting. The skin around her socket is a deep purple and looks fresh.
She frowns at me. “Rose?”
I blink back at her. “Luna?”
She shakes her head, her eyes full of hate as they shift to the man at my back. “I see my cousin is getting bold. Another celebrity is bound to raise suspicion.”
Sal chuckles, the sound making my neck prickle. “Don’t start, Moon, or I’ll have to fill your mouth again. You look so pretty choking on a cock.”
Her jaw works, a fire burning in her gaze. “Fuck you.”
“Later, baby.” Sal winks before shoving me forward. “Get her bathed and dressed. She already has clients lining up.”
My lips part on a gasp as my heart slams. I feel so uncomfortable that I can’t move until Luna beckons me with a soft gesture. Her features are cool, and I finally see the exhaustion behind her mask. She looks rough, and it makes my heart break for her.
This whole time…
“Come on,” She says softly.
I shuffle forward, glad to leave Sal behind. Once I’m in Luna’s room, she closes the door with a gentle click before pressing her forehead to it and sighing deeply. “I’m so sorry…”
Her voice is so quiet I don’t think I’ve heard her until she turns to me and I see a torrent of emotions on her face—regret, melancholy, and fear.
She plays with her fingers in front of her, staring at the floor as if she can’t stand to look me in the eyes. “Holden, the one who runs the whole operation, is my cousin. I understand if you don’t want to trust me—”
“Luna,” I interject in a murmur. “This isn’t your fault.”
She throws her hands out, clearly upset as her eyes water. “It is! If I had known…” She presses her knuckle to her lips as she takes a ragged breath. “I could have stopped him.”
I hold my hands up to her, knowing what it feels like to be vulnerable and scared—the trepidation and fear that paralyze one, and the constant fight-or-flight always present. “Can I touch you?”
She sucks in a breath, nodding quickly. “Please.”
I rush to her, flinging my arms around her shoulders as she bunches my dress into her fists. She sobs horridly into my shoulder, her whole body wracking as she clings to me.
“I’m sorry,” She swallows thickly. “It feels so good to be touched without malice. I hurt so bad, Rose…”
My lip wobbles as my heart aches for her.
I don’t let her go until she pulls away and swipes at her eyes roughly.
She slaps her cheeks a few times, shaking it off, but she still appears broken—the shambles of what once made her whole scattered and torn.
She takes a deep breath to calm her voice before she speaks.
“There are eight of us here. Does anyone know you’re missing? ”
I roll my lips in apologetically. “I have no idea.”
Her head hangs slightly before she guides me to the connected bathroom. “Shower and I’ll get you something to wear.”
I bathe, my body going through the motions until I’m clean. My skin still feels tight, and I think that’s because of the situation. My mind races as I towel off and grab the shorts and t-shirt Luna left on the sink for me. As I peer at myself in the mirror, all of those old memories resurface.
You look just like her.
Fuck, sometimes you sound like her.
I lift my hand to the mirror, sadness fueling me as I take in the image of my mother—young and scared of the man who claimed to love her.
“I see why you left,” I whisper. “I don’t think I’m mad at your choice, but why didn’t you take me with you?”
As usual, I receive no answer back. It’s only my eyes staring back at me—so full of the light I fought hard to reclaim. I can’t let this place break me. No matter what happens, I’m Rose Beckett. Not Candy and not my mother. I’m me.
I walk back into Luna’s room, surprised to see two other women have joined us. Luna sits on her bed, her legs tucked under her as she whispers encouragement to the woman before her.
She’s about my age, with dark hair cropped into a bob. Her eyes are rimmed red and puffy from crying as she picks at the grey cotton shorts she’s wearing.
The other woman is a little older, maybe thirty? She leans against the doorframe, her ankles and arms crossed, staring unseeing at the floor. She’s tall and utterly quiet.
“This is Rose,” Luna says, motioning to me.
The woman on the bed sniffles. “Hi. I’m Cara.”
“Bridget,” The woman at the door says monotonously.
Cara hiccups before falling into another fit of hysterics. “I can’t go in there again! He almost broke my pelvic bone the last time…”
Luna shushes her, running her hand through the woman’s short hair in a calming gesture. “I know. I’m going to do something.”
Cara’s head whips up, her eyes widening before she grabs Luna’s shirt, fisting the fabric. “No! Sal’s going to punish you again!”
Luna only smiles—it’s broken and lifeless, but it makes her features warm a fraction. She’s giving this woman the strength that she doesn’t possess. “I’ll be fine, Cara. Promise.”
Cara’s head shakes as she pleads with the blonde. “No! You can’t—”
“Cara!” Bridget snaps, causing every head to swivel to her. She pushes off the doorframe, stomping over to the bed. “You said it yourself! He almost killed you last time! Let one of us take your place.”
Now that she’s closer, I can see the bruises. On her bicep, it looks like someone gripped her entirely too tightly. There’s also a freckling of some wounds around the part of her abdomen that’s exposed.
These women have been through pure hell, and they’re trying to save one another.
Luna brushes a hand over Cara’s shoulder, gentling her words. “Go to your room and cover your ears, okay?”
The short-haired woman looks torn before she lets her hand hang in resignation. Bridget guides her out of the room until it’s just Luna and me left sitting in the suffocating atmosphere.
Something sits on the tip of my tongue—maybe words of reassurance. But it doesn’t see the light of day as Sal rounds into the open door with a metal brand in his hands. He flips it over, the bright red numbers illuminated with a glow as he smirks at me.
Luna stands, stepping into my path like my sworn protector. “Can’t this wait, Sal? She just got here.”
He cocks his head. “You know the rules, Moon. Step aside.”
The blonde doesn’t move an inch until I place a hand on her shoulder. She’s trying her hardest to protect everyone without a thought of the mental and physical toll this is taking on her. She feels completely at fault, and that’s so far from the truth…
“It’s okay, Luna,” I whisper.
She glances over her shoulder at me, the expression of someone desperate to save another soul evident on her features. “I can’t let them do this to you…”
I mimic her brave smile despite the inner turmoil I’m feeling. I was once here—lost and broken. I’m no stranger to hopelessness. “That’s not your place,” I remind her gently. “You’re a victim too.”
Her expression crumbles to despair. “Rose…”
“Move, Luna.”