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Chapter One

Berlin

Fifteen years old

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“Sit.”

Folding my hands together, I sat on the hard wooden chair against the back wall. I didn't say a word, because I wasn't allowed to unless he permitted it.

It was one of the new rules Virgo had so kindly decided I needed. I couldn't lie, it was hard as hell to not ask questions, to not answer back with a snotty comment or attitude, but I was trying.

Every day it felt like I was drifting further and further away. I wasn't myself. But how could I be? This wasn't my life.

My life stopped at nine years old. All of this was just a scary nightmare I couldn't escape.

“I have some men coming today.” Standing above me, he played with the ends of my hair. His touch a false tenderness, one I had learned to see right through. “I don't want you asking questions, I don't want you looking at them, I don't want you to do anything unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Patting the top of my head, he walked towards the long table in the center of the room. “Now these men, my sweet child, are not nice men.” He was speaking into the air, his head facing away from me as he looked over the table.

So they're just like you?

The snippy question burned behind my eyes, searing my retinas like a neon sign. But I held onto the silence, choosing not to let it out.

That was my solace, my way of twisting his rules into a game of my own. He might have told me not to speak, but in my mind, I was refusing him an answer. It made me feel like I had more power, as if I was controlling this dreadful situation.

The sad reality I was living in was actually better if I felt like my silence was a choice and not forced.

There was a dark box sitting near Virgo's chair that he kept shifting and adjusting. He'd move it to one side, then push it back over to where it was before. I watched him from the corner of my eye, spinning and twisting that box as if it made a difference.

Kicking my legs back and forth nervously, I could feel my stomach as it twisted into corded rope. I had never been in one of his meetings before. For the entire six years I had been with him, he never once let me sit upstairs for longer than a few minutes, keeping me hidden away in the depths of the basement.

But there was something different about him that day, something about that whole situation that didn't feel right.

My legs swept over the floor, making soft thumps against the wall. Tucking my hands under my thighs, I watched my feet as they moved back and forth like a pendulum. I could feel him watching me, but I didn't look up, keeping my eyes down.

“What's wrong?”

Shrugging a shoulder, I spoke to the floor. “Nothing.”

“Something's wrong, you're shaking like a damn leaf. Tell me what it is.”

Letting out a weighted breath, I mustered up the strength to be honest and ask the question that was in my head. “Why am I here for this? You never let me stay up here, you always keep me downstairs. Why now?”

“Well,” he said, stepping over to me and dropping to his haunches. “You're almost sixteen, it's time for you to see what your life is going to be, what I'm going to need you for. I haven't been teaching you obedience for nothing, Berlin, there's a reason. You're going to be my masterpiece, my perfect creation.”

His masterpiece?

My eyes scanned his face, trying to figure out why he was being so open with me and what the hell that meant. Most of my questions went unanswered, and if I tried to pry too deep, the only answer I would get was a back hand across the face.

Not today. Today he was willing to actually hear me, to indulge me with a privileged answer. He answered me as if I deserved such clarity for what was about to happen. And I was sadly grateful for his kindness, even if this open dialogue between us wouldn't last.