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Ignoring the psycho bitch, I search out Bethany, and a lump forms in my throat when I spot a bloody open wound where her mole used to be. My chest tightens, the confirmation feeling like sharp knives grazing my nerve endings.

I was raped for nothing.

Fuck, I knew that. But it still feels like getting fucked all over again.

Clearing my throat, I stand straighter, embarrassment and shame burning my cheeks. I don’t know why. It’s not like being raped is something I should be ashamed of. Maybe because I feel so fucking stupid.

“Today was supposed to be prepping for the Culling, but you had to go and cause a distraction,” Francesca snipes at me.

My heart sinks like a stone in water, too preoccupied with her words to feel embarrassed. Molly mentioned the Culling in her entries, but she didn’t go into detail about what it was—only implied that she was being hunted.

Licking my cracked lips, I ask, “What’s the Culling?”

Francesca smirks. “It means to hunt animals. The men will hunt, and you, my dear, are the prey.”

My chest tightens, but deep down, I knew that answer already. I just didn’t want to believe it. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that they actually fucking hunt women like we’re game that will be shot and mounted above a fireplace.

This is purely for sport. To laugh and get their rocks off while a bunch of girls run for their lives and what—try to avoid being hit with a fucking bullet or something?

I have to fight to keep down the urge to vomit. I don’t want to be hunted. And it seems that’s all my life has been for the past several months.

Francesca casts her gaze down the line.

“The event will take place later this week, and I have an important client visiting—Xavier Delano. He is one of the top buyers in the market, and if you’re lucky, you’ll be selected for auction. But you will only be selected if you are deemed worthy after the Culling.”

Her glacial eyes find me, an abhorrent expression twisting her features. “Except you. You look repulsive.”

I swallow the retort sitting on my tongue and nod my head in acceptance, like a good little captive. Not like I fucking want to be selected anyway. Guess I should be glad I’m covered head to toe in bruises.

She clicks her tongue, as if she finds me stupid. “You will still be expected to participate in the Culling.”

Of fucking course I am. What’s another injury?

“Alongside Xavier, we have several other potential buyers coming here as well. You want to make the best impression on these men. I won’t tolerate any insolence, you understand?” Mid-speech, her eyes drift to the other girls, but by the time she ends her sentence, her gaze has locked back onto me.

I flatten my lips into a hard line and nod once. The other girls also acknowledge her order with a dip of their chins.

“The less interest they have in you, the less likely you are to leave my house. And you know what that means? That means that I don’t produce the best girls, and I will get very fucking angry if that ever becomes the case.”

How aren’t her teeth rotten from the vile things she spews all day?

It takes tremendous effort to keep my face blank with the turmoil rolling through me.

She approaches me slowly. “Let’s run some scenarios. What do you do when a man asks you to get on your knees for him?”

“Get on my knees,” I answer, my voice hoarse.

“And when he tells you to unfasten his pants and take out his cock?”

“Do as he says.”

She nods, studying me closely.

&

nbsp; “And then what?”

Bite his dick off.