Chapter Forty-Eight
Rosalie
I’m awoken by a shrill scream. It jolts me upright as I blink the sleep away rapidly. There’s a commotion outside the closed bedroom door, and Luna flies up. She grabs the door’s handle before charging headfirst into the hall.
I follow behind her, tossing the covers aside as my anxiety revs.
It’s early morning, the sun barely peaking past the velvet curtains of the room, as I walk into a horror scene.
Holden, the ring leader, and another man I haven’t met are dragging Cara by her arms down the hall.
This new man is wide and muscled. He has a death grip on the screaming woman’s bicep as he hauls her towards the steps.
“No!” Cara begs. “Don’t make me go!”
The other women have come out of their rooms; some are shaken, with their fingers lifted to their lips. Others look like they’re ready for a fight as they shoot the men death glares.
Luna stomps towards her cousin with murderous intent as she jabs her hands at her chest. “Holden! Take me!”
Bridget steps into the hallway, serving as a barrier to the others behind her. “Or me! Anyone but Cara.”
Holden sneers at his cousin, his lips twisting unpleasantly. “Go back to your room, Luna. A client requested her.”
The blonde doesn’t back down as she closes in on him. “You can’t put her through that again! Please, Holden—”
His open palm cracks across her face, causing her head to shoot to the side. Everyone goes silent, and my hand lifts in Luna’s direction. There’s a beat where she blinks back her tears before rolling her shoulders, and she glances back at her cousin. “Please, Holden.”
The man bends over her, showing that he’s much bigger. He’s trying to intimidate her as his lips pull over his teeth. “Go. To your. Room. Before I get Sal to put you back in your place.”
Cara screams, the sound blood-curdling and morbid, as the man handling her lifts her into his arms. She reaches over his shoulder towards us, desperation in her wide eyes, but there’s nothing we can do. An unsettling weight blankets the hallway as we watch the man drag her out of sight.
“Does anyone else have something to say?” Holden glances between us. When no one answers, he nods. “Thought so.”
“Prick,” Luna mumbles.
He whips around to her, his elbow cocking back before he punches her nose harshly. She falls to the floor on her ass, her hand shooting up as blood begins to trickle down her chin.
“Sal will be by for a visit later,” Holden nurses his wrist as he flexes it. “It’s about time someone put you in your place for fucking good.”
He leaves us, and the moment he reaches the bottom of the stairs, I drop down to my knees beside Luna. I grab her wrists, removing her hands to see the damage. It doesn’t look broken, but there’s blood gushing all down the front of her shirt.
Silver squats on her other side, a paper towel in her hands as she lifts it to the blonde’s nose. “Tilt your head back.”
Luna closes her eyes against the pain as she complies, and we try to stop the bleeding. Heaviness blankets over us as the blonde stands.
My insulin pump pings, and I lift my hand to my arm as the sounds around me tunnel.
Shit.
I hadn’t even thought of running out of insulin. I changed my reservoir two days ago.
“What was that?” Silver frowns.
I clear my throat. “Umm, I’m a diabetic—”
“Fuck,” Luna curses. “How are you feeling?”
I swallow as I lift my trembling hand. A nervous chuckle tumbles past my lips as that sense of dread begins to build in my gut. I’m in the first stage of my sugar dropping, and I have no way of fixing it. “Not too good…”
“There’s juice downstairs,” Bridget says as she pushes to the front of the crowd. “I’ll grab it and get some food.”
Luna shoves a hand into the woman’s chest, stopping her. “They’re awake. They’re bound to stop you.”
Bridget doesn’t seem phased as she brushes the blonde’s hand aside. “And most of us haven’t eaten in two days. Someone has to go.”
She shoulders past Luna, taking the steps two at a time before disappearing onto the first floor.
Everyone waits with bated breath, and it feels like hours pass before Bridget trudges back up the stairs with a bottle of dark juice in one hand and a few packets of raw oatmeal in the other.
She tosses the juice to me, and I uncap it before guzzling half and saving the rest. She disperses the oatmeal between the other women, and they tear into the packages before taking handfuls of the powder and eating it with twisted faces.
“Was anyone downstairs?” Luna asks quietly.
Bridget nods. “They were all in the living room. I heard Jeff say that Cara won’t be back until this afternoon…”
The blonde runs a hand through her hair messily. “I hate this. Not knowing where they brought her…”
Bridget gets a distant look in her eyes. “Yeah. Let’s try to focus on not drawing attention today. We can have the first aid kit ready when Cara gets back.”
Luna nods, and a few women choose to stay in our room as we wait for the time to tick by.
It’s agony to have every sense of dignity stripped from you.
None of us has cellphones, and a few can’t even recount how long they’ve been away from home.
As they share their stories, my chest could cave beneath the pressure forming.
Charlotte was coerced by her ex-boyfriend, a man she trusted with her life, and he turned against her.
Bridget was in the middle of reporting a stalker, someone she grew up with who couldn’t seem to let her go.
She was snatched off the sidewalk on her way back to her apartment after work.
Silver grew up around addicts and was forced into sex work at a young age.
She was sixteen the first time she took a client.
Her own mother sold her off on her twenty-first birthday, and she’s been here ever since.
Each story is horrid and gut-wrenching in its own way. My eyes sting with unshed tears as I try to hold it together. They’ve been through so much…
As the afternoon light begins to filter through the window, the group's nerves grow. Everyone is on edge as we await Cara’s arrival.
Luna is the most rattled, picking at her lip as her eyes continue to flicker to the empty hall.
When we hear footsteps up the stairs, the blonde rises.
She waits for the person to near the room, relief circling her features until Sal saunters in.
“What do you want?” Luna sneers.
The man’s brows raise as he peers around at us. “Having a slumber party? Don’t you think you’re too old for that?”
“Where’s Cara?”
Sal tilts his head condescendingly. “She isn’t any of your concern. What you should be worried about is whether I’m going to punish you here, for all of your whore friends to see, or if I’m going to drag you up to my room and keep you busy for a while.”
Apprehension filters through the blonde’s irises. “Not here…”
“Oh?” Sal taunts before snatching her hair harshly. “That would be horrible, wouldn’t it? For me to take you right in front of them. They can listen to your screams as you fucking beg like the pathetic bitch you are.”
Luna’s hands fly to his wrist as her teeth grit. “Please. Not here.”
He hums before sucking his teeth. “I’ll let you off easy this time, but only because you’re so pretty when you beg.
Tell them bye.” He picks up her limp wrist, shaking it in a waving motion before dragging her out of the room by her hair.
Luna doesn’t make a sound as she shuffles after him, resignation weighing her down as she gives us one last somber look.
I’m stuck—staring at the ajar door as if I expect the blonde to fight and run back in. But as I hear the footsteps upstairs, I know that won’t happen. He could hurt her. These men wield all the power, and we’re puppets to them. Disposable.
They don’t see us as humans.
“Fuck!” Bridget shouts, drawing every eye in the room to her as she tucks her head and holds her hands over her ears. “I can’t listen. I can’t…”
Silver rises, ushering everyone up. “Grab your pillows—”
“I’M NOT GRABBING A FUCKING PILLOW!” Bridget stands quickly, her chest rising and falling as tears fill her eyes. “I can’t stand this another second!”
“Someone grab her!” Silver shouts as Bridget heads to the bathroom. Charlotte tries to stop the woman, but she pushes her so hard that she flies back and tumbles to the ground.
“What’s she doing?” I ask, oblivious to what’s happening.
“She’s going to hurt herself,” Silver rages as she flies into the bathroom.
I watch in horror as Bridget digs a blade out of a razor until her fingers begin to bleed.
The whole time she removes it, Silver is trying to talk her down while reaching for the weapon.
Bridget slices into her wrist, her eyes wild as she saws at her own skin.
There are a few screams from the other women as blood gushes like a fountain, and my tears fall.
“You can all stay in this hellhole,” Bridget seethes. “But I’m getting the fuck out of here one way or another!”
Silver finally pulls the blade away from the woman before tossing it aside and rushing to gather some paper towels.
She sniffles lightly, swiping at her tears as her hands shake and she presses the paper towels to the wound, but it’s no use.
Bridget’s face is draining of color, and she looks like she’s about to pass out as she sways.
“What’s going on here?” A woman’s voice calls from the door.
I turn to the newcomer, surprised to see an older woman dressed in designer clothes standing in the doorway.
Her golden hoop earrings sway as she cocks a hip and folds her arms over her expensive blouse.
Her expression is pinched with distaste as she observes the scene in the bathroom. “Bridget. I should have known.”
“Mrs. Poole, we tried to stop her—” Charlotte tries to defend, but the woman holds a hand up, her golden bracelets making a twinkling sound.
“I don’t need your pathetic excuses. Let the poor thing die. She was reaching her end anyway. As for the rest of you, there’s a party coming. Make yourselves presentable.” The woman turns on her heels as we all scramble to help Bridget.
“Who was that?” I ask Charlotte quietly as we pull more paper towels off the roll and hand them to Silver.
“Holden’s wife. She’s a cunt.” Charlotte says as she tears a shirt into a bandage.
“What was she saying about a party?” I question.
Silver eases Bridget down onto the toilet’s closed lid as she doctors the woman’s wound. “Once a week, they hold a party. It’s their chance to flaunt us around in front of potential new buyers. They make us serve drinks and…other things.”
She doesn’t need to elaborate for me to know her meaning. We’re expected to put on brave faces as we face the very beasts who will hurt us.
“It’s your first one,” Silver says quietly. “Stick to the outskirts and try not to draw attention to yourself.”
She helps Bridget into bed, drawing the covers over her as everyone begins to get ready. Silver brings me a lingerie set—it’s black and lacy and looks like it’s been through some wear and tear.
“Sorry, but it’s the newest one I have.” She apologizes as she lays it on the room’s dresser. She’s holding a pink one in her hands for herself as she motions for me to sit on the floor.
She paints my lips and puts some mascara on me in the quiet.
Once she’s done, she runs through the rules of the party.
“If anyone asks to take you upstairs, you can’t refuse.
If you do, Holden will have one of the guys punish you after the party.
Just smile and be polite. I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s life or death, Rose. We have no choice.”
I nod, staring at the ground as I try to battle the nerves eating away at me. It doesn’t help that I’m starting to feel lightheaded from the lack of insulin. I only have a little bit of juice left, and I need it to last until…something.
Fierce longing grips me as I think of Roman, Kairo, and Maddox. I’ve hoped they figured out what happened and are fighting to reach me. Going through this without their strength is like being shunted back into my former life—cold and unforgiving. I feel…lost.
Like a piece of me is missing.
It hurts like hell.
No matter what happens, my heart will always belong to them. My body could be elsewhere, but I’m theirs. Whatever horrors I face will never dim that light, and I have to be brave. I have to fight.
For them.
Cara shows up a few minutes before we finish getting ready.
She’s quiet as she stumbles to her room.
Her eyes are hollow, and she looks like she’s just going through the motions as she fishes a blue lingerie set out of her dresser across the hall and takes her clothes off.
She stands naked, and I see the deep bruises littering her flesh.
There are fingerprints over her hips, and the inside of her thighs is swollen.
Charlotte steps into Cara’s room, her feet padding softly towards the woman caught in a trance as she stares at the dresser’s mirror. “Cara…”
“I’m fine,” she says, but her voice wavers as she pulls on the lace.
Charlotte watches with concern as Cara moves robotically. Her muscles are full of tension, coiling tightly with every movement. She’s hurt…
Luna joins us shortly after, anger fueling her as she grips the handle of the dresser and pulls with all her might. She snatches a purple set out of it, slamming the drawer back closed as she mumbles to herself bitterly. “I wish I could cut off his fucking shrimp dick.”
“I’ll help,” I offer.
Her eyes flicker up to me. “We’ve got big dreams, don’t we?”