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Her screams would serve as the warning, and she knew from experience how long the elders could keep a traitor alive, those screams hanging in the air for an eternity.

Something thudded against the bathroom door.

Huddling deeper into the tub, she bit her tongue as the wooden frame exploded inward with a thunderous crash. The door swung back with force, smacking loudly against the wall.

Blood hit her tastebuds as Merrick stalked over to her, staring down at her with concern. He didn’t say anything, just reached down and plucked her out of the tub, holding her tight to his chest.

She clung to him, seeking comfort from fear so intrinsic, there were no words to describe it.

He didn’t carry her into the bedroom, but took her to the living room instead. Settling on the couch, he made her straddle his lap, her tender butt on his thighs, and ran his hand up and down her back. “Been putting this off too long, Tamsyn. Maybe I’ve been reluctant to ask because it’s gonna cause you distress, and I’m afraid of what I’m gonna do to the ones who’ve made you so fucking terrified.”

She shook her head against his neck, but he just took her by the shoulders and eased her back until his eyes met hers, locking them in a hypnotically green stare.

“Like it or not, little owl, it’s time. We know what the community is, what they do, but your trauma is personal to you. Daughter to an elder, that probably means you were held to a higher standard, right?” His head cocked slightly, studying her when she didn’t reply. “Perhaps not. Just another female then, no different than the rest.”

That about summed her existence up in a nutshell.

“My mother loved my father.” The words shocked her. “At least, in the beginning. She thought he was different to the rest of them, even when he made the trade. It didn’t take long to realize he wasn’t, and just what kind of monster she’d married. Luckily, he seemed to have some fondness for her and while he wouldn’t break the rules, he wasn’t cruel. Not to her, at least. Not for a few years.

“I was born about a year after the trade. My father was thrilled to have his standing elevated when the elders discovered their female inventory was expanding by one, but my mother was not. By then, she understood the baser existence of being a wife, her lack of freedom, and knew what kind of life she’d sentenced me to, simply by having me.”

Merrick stroked her cheek. “You lost her.”

“We had a few years together, a lot of which I don’t remember. She spent a lot of time telling me stories, which were basically warnings in disguise, but my father caught on. His fondness twisted, cementing his loyalty to the community. I was six when she died; Jedidiah told me she committed suicide, hanging herself in the woods because she was so ashamed of compromising community values, she couldn’t live with herself anymore.”

“They killed her.”

She nodded miserably. “When I was twelve, I overheard some of the elders talking, laughing about how she’d danced from the rafters with broken arms, on legs smashed into pieces by their bats and bars. How my father, her own husband, had cut out her tongue as she screamed for mercy, before he opened her throat and watched her die.”

“Jesus fuck,” Merrick whispered.

“I loved him too, as a child. Loved him harder after my mother died. He was all I had left.” Anger began to trickle into her voice. “Six weeks after he killed her, he took his next wife. That forced a wedge between us, but it was finding out he was the one who killed her that severed my love completely. Because he knew my mother told me about how the community worked, he made promises. He broke them all, one after the other.”

Merrick’s eyes softened.

“The biggest promise of all was that if I followed his rules, behaved and conducted myself with immaculate grace and poise, he would allow me to live in his house without fear of being traded. If I served him and his wife, he would protect me. I did as he asked for fourteen years, Merrick. Fourteen years of hating him, pitying each of the wives he took to replace the last, and I was stupid enough to believe I was actually safe.”

“That’s why you ran away,” he said slowly.

“The women have a routine at night. Everyone shares the same bath to preserve resources. I was about fifteen or sixteen when I figured out that the schedule wasn’t random. On trading nights, the elders meet and the proposed buyer sits down with his chosen woman’s father or guardian,” she explained, feeling her bottom lip quiver. “The paperwork is signed at midnight, and the buyer’s bride is delivered to him before the twelfth chime sounds, as his wife.”

Now he frowned. “Wait a minute. So there isn’t a ceremony, vows, any legal paperwork involved? Rings?”

“No.”

“It’s basically straight human trafficking then.”

“I guess?” What did it matter? They went from being owned by their fathers to being sold to a husband. “On trade nights, the women who were at the top of the bathing list were taken from their beds before midnight. The night I ran away,Iwas at the top of that list. He finally broke that last promise. I’d seen him talking to Elder Frank earlier in the day, and I just knew…”

“Frank is the bad man?”

“Yes. He’s one of the richest traders—his family was one of the original families, like mine. He doesn’t trade to achieve community goals, he just likes to…” Tamsyn swallowed sickly, thinking of how many girls had fallen into his clutches. “He enjoys causing pain. He’s careless and rough, and he takes pleasure from making girls scream. Worse, he delights in killing them when he’s done. As far as I know, he’s never traded for anyone over the age of sixteen.”

“How do you know it was him buying you?”

A full-body shudder ripped through her from skull to toes at the memory of how Frank had looked at her once her father walked away from their discussion. Those dark, predatory eyes locking on her where she hid in the shadows, brightening with intent and evil promises. Fat lips curling into a smirk, his tongue lashing over them.

“The way he stared at me, like he could already see me screaming.”