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We’re seen as cattle. Product to mold to perfection and then ship off to the highest bidder. However, the more she sees me as something other than just a price tag, the more she’ll soften toward me. That could mean letting her guard down. Letting information slip or getting privileges that could assist with my escape.

My thoughts race with the possibilities that could mean for me. I know that I won’t be exempt from the horror that comes hand-in-hand with human trafficking, but I might be able to save myself from some of it.

Sydney understands this, and maybe rightfully so, she’s not happy with it. There’s a power imbalance, and the other girls might start to feel the same.

“We’re all leaving this place,” I remind her. “Soon, we’ll be shipped off to whoever pays the most money, and how Francesca treats me won’t matter anymore.”

“It does matter,” she snarls. “I want to stay here, and she won’t let me now that you’ve shown up. You heard her.”

I set my jaw. Sydney doesn’t want to see the diamond shine because that means she’ll be expected to as well. And when we shine, that means we are good enough to be sold. Francesca cares about one thing above all else—her reputation. And there’s only one thing Sydney wants more than anything—not to be sold—which must be why she acts out so badly and causes trouble. Her punishments are worth it, as long as Francesca never sees her as fit to be auctioned.

“Why do you want to stay here so badly?”

“Because it’s my home. I have nothing outside of this house, and I would rather be here than stuck with some fat, old man with a worm dick. And you are ruining that!”

I blink. Interesting depiction, but not entirely wrong either.

“You get raped here, too, Sydney,” I point out.

She shrugs. “It’s not so bad. It’s what I’m used to and comfortable with.”

Another blink. How one could settle into the life of being raped and beaten is beyond me, but she’s hinted at having nowhere else to go. This tells me a life outside of this house for Sydney is bleak. Nonexistent. Most likely filled with nights on the streets and random men.

And I suppose being in a house with the monsters you know is safer than a man who paid money and believes they own her.

Men have this funny habit of thinking they're entitled to women, especially when they don't respect them. As if their respect is a determining facto

r on how women deserve to be treated.

At least the men in this house have rules and limitations on what they can do to us. Mainly mutilating or causing permanent damage. Men on the streets or the ones who buy us at an auction—they don't have rules.

“So that’s it,” I say. “You’re going to continue to terrorize me because you want to cheat the system when none of us will get that option. Maybe it's you who thinks they're special when you're not.”

She giggles a high-pitched sound that grinds my nerves to dust. And then she turns and walks away without a word, casting an indecipherable look over her shoulder.

Who we’re fighting over would rather see us shipped off to the highest bidder, and she’s not just causing me to fail a test, she’s actively inflicting trauma on me.

Abuse. Rape. Things that no human being should ever have to suffer through—especially in the name of jealousy or pettiness.

“You sabotaged me, Sydney,” I call out, causing her to stop in her tracks. “I won’t forget that.”

Keeping her back turned, she swivels her head to the side, and her hand drifts up and down the doorjamb airily, as if she’s toying with the thought as her fingers are with the wood.

Finally, she glances over her shoulder at me, a grin on her thin lips.

“You’re going to be a lot of fun, diamond.” She winks at me and then leaves, sashaying down the hall before she disappears into a room at the end.

I glare at her the entire way, and I know damn well she can feel the heat of it burning into her back.

The cunt is probably getting off on it, and the vindictive side of me will be happy to fuck her in the worst of ways any chance I can get.

Raucous laughter booms from downstairs, nearly vibrating the floor beneath my knees. Francesca and Rocco are the only two who actually live here, but he likes to invite his rapist friends over every day to shoot copious amounts of drugs in their veins and have their way with the girls when permitted.

Though, I suppose Rio and Rick have been practically living here now that they can’t be seen in public. I've been praying Rick makes it easy on me and leaves the house anyway, but the bozo is too fucking lazy and high off his rocker now that he has an endless stream of drugs coming in. He's got the money to get his junk hand-delivered.

Regardless, they’re all fucking obnoxious, incapable of keeping their mouths shut and not making disgusting remarks anytime we’re in their vicinity.

Damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck that tight ass.