Page 3

OPHELIA

I whip my head to the source of the low, rugged voice. I was wrong about him. James’s eyes don’t remind me of sleet.

They remind me of that night.

Blue and red lights flashing across Brielle’s, my then best friend’s house.

Two men in uniform knocking on her door.

We’re here for Ophelia. Ophelia Monroe. She’s supposed to be spending the night here.

Brielle’s mom’s hand rested on the top of my head. She trembled.

I was five-years-old. My black hair in pigtails, and my dark eyes wide as one of the police officers crouched to my eye level.

We’re so sorry, sweetheart. There was an accident. The plane your parents were on crashed. There were no survivors. Is there anyone we can contact on your behalf?

No one to call. No family left. No money, either. My parents spent what little they had on the plane tickets to Seattle. Dad traveled for a job interview. It’d taken me years to understand that both my parents had been unemployed for months.

It wasn’t cold that day. No sleet. No rain.

It was springtime.

Finding out you’re alone like that, though? That’ll suck the warmth right out of the room. Out of your bones.

James’s gaze is just that. Cold. Aloof.

Terrifying.

“Let me go.” The longer I stare back, the less conviction there is in my voice.

His head cocks. Eyebrows lower.

His expression shifts a fraction.

Is he…

Hope flutters in my chest.

Does he care about me? Does he finally see me, the person?

He could. Then he’d be my hero. If someone has the power to fix this, it’s him.

But he doesn’t. Because— gross —Topher’s lips are on my shoulder. His hand makes a fist in my hair.

I’m seconds from throwing up, and James is staring at his son, who’s pressing his mouth to my body.

But he just stands there.

He won’t save me. It’s up to me to save myself.

Finding a good use for my stupid heels, I lift one and stomp on Topher’s foot.

“Only making this harder on yourself,” he growls, hauling me out of his dad’s hold.

My cheek slams into the wall. It’s warm and hard. I’m being contained by it.

I’d rather be outside in the rain that had started pouring seconds ago. Would sell my soul to be out there, soaked to the bone.

Hell, I’d risk getting hit by lightning.

Anything other than this.

“Topher,” James scolds. “Be careful.”

“Your owner won’t be as forgiving as we are,” Topher says while I thrash my body and scream for help.

James walks over to where I can see him. “The potential buyers are?—”

“You’re a lawyer,” I shriek. “You’re normal people. Normal people! Enough with this auction bullshit!”

Without giving me an answer, James takes the cuffs from Topher and tosses them to the floor.

“Dad’s right. We don’t need these.” Topher’s sickening breath is on my cheek. My dinner threatens to expel itself once again. “I always wondered what it’d be like to have you fight me. A girl from foster care. I bet you’re as wild as you claimed to be.”

“Stop it! This isn’t you!”

His dad’s eyes are full of rage. Of something more. Whatever it is, he’s quick to snuff it out. “Do you really think we’ve accumulated all this wealth throughout the years by running a law firm?”

It isn’t that far-fetched, is it? Hawthorne Morgan is the most prominent criminal law firm on the East Side. Their clients range from Mafia bosses to politicians to other wealthy bastards.

It makes sense. It?—

Topher’s hand is a manacle on my nape.

“Stop. Fucking stop.” For reasons that are beyond me, his dad’s had enough. James’s hand curls around my wrist. He uses the other one to peel Topher’s off me.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“I warned you. Ordered you to be careful.” When his cold stare lands on Topher, I shiver. “Since you failed to listen, I’ll take it from here. Go ahead, start walking.”

Topher scoffs, lingering next to us for another second.

Then he relents.

I would’ve done the same. James is terrifying. Another shiver runs through my body.

His son walks ahead and away from us.

However, I’m not so na?ve as to think I’m in the clear. Danger is very much present.

James guides me across the expansive halls of the Hawthorne mansion.

Where hell awaits.

“Let. Me. Go,” I snarl at him.

“No.”

Topher waits for us, holding open a hidden door. Where are we? How did we get this far from the dining room?

“That other source of income, what is it exactly?” I keep my tone as conversational as possible.

Maybe, if I don’t fight, if I pretend to accept my situation, he’d get bored. Both of them.

I’m a great actress when I put my mind to it.

In high school, I’d gotten a couple of leads in our school’s drama club. That was my ticket to college, how I landed my scholarship.

College. My chest caves at the memories. I should’ve never dropped out. I get that now.

Had I stayed, I wouldn’t have been on that bench the day I met Topher. I would’ve been working on my master’s or spending hours stuck in an office.

I wouldn’t have had the afternoon off to read a book in Union Square and think about what the hell I was going to do with my life.

Topher, the psycho, wouldn’t have noticed me. We would’ve never met.

He would have found another poor woman to prey upon.

Not the most selfless thought to have. Then again, I am being carried—respectfully, but still—by James. He’s taking me somewhere where no one will hear me scream.

He remains silent throughout the entire demeaning walk to the hidden door Topher has left open. He says nothing as we descend the stairs. As we follow Topher through the medieval-looking hall beneath James’s mansion.

Sconces line the walls along the way, but their light isn’t warm. Not at all.

I’m shivering. Teeth clinking.

The heater works just fine.

My foreboding doom is what does that to me.

“Ow!” I stumble on one of the cracks in the stone floors. James steadies me against his hard body, the movement impersonal.

Topher whips his head around. “Dying won’t help you, pretty one.”

My skin crawls at the familiar nickname.

He has no right. No right at all.

“Go to hell.”

“I have a few years until I get there. You, on the other hand?—”

“Keep walking,” James interrupts.

He’s protecting me. Sort of.

I’ll take it, that sliver of humanity.

I’ll do better and use it to my advantage.

“Wait!”

Both men stop to stare at me.

“What, Ophelia?” My name, spoken by James.

I hate that my heart swoops.

Can’t stand the hope that latches onto me.

Throwing up would’ve been the more appropriate reaction.

Because he isn’t my knight in shining armor. He doesn’t care, that much is clear.

But he might come to his senses. He could save me if I played my cards right.

“She’s stalling.” Topher runs his knuckles over my cheek. James seethes. Fuckers. The two of them. “Let’s go.”

When tears brim in my eyes, I do my best to stay in the present moment. To survive this.

“Please.” I’m not above begging. Another step into this medieval-looking hallway and I’m done. “Please, I don’t have much to give you, but whatever I have, it’s yours. I won’t tell anyone, either. Let me go. Please.”

Silence.

My breath hitches when James pushes me forward.

“Please!”

More silence. He’s forcing me to walk a few more feet before we reach our final destination. Where he slips two antique gold keys out of his pocket.

“Please, James.” Last chance. I have to make it count. “Please. I’m begging you.”

My endless pleas have no effect on either of them.

“No.” My worst fears come true as James unlocks the door to a cell. An honest-to-God cell, like a jail cell. “No.” I yank my body left and right. He’s stronger. So much stronger. “Don’t—Please, please. I don’t want to die here. Please.”

No one answers me. I scream at the top of my lungs over and over. Throw my free hand up in an attempt to hit James.

Topher ignores my cries for help. James’s grip on my wrist tightens.

Tears roll down my cheeks. They land on my cleavage as I’m being escorted into this twenty-by-twenty cell.

Double bed. Two gray duvets. Metal toilet and sink with one cloth draped over it. This is what I have here, in this dreadful place.

“Please.” It’s humiliating to sob in front of these monsters. More so when I think one of them is attractive. No. No. I don’t. “Please, I won’t tell anyone. Let me go, and I’ll disappear. You don’t have to do this.”

Topher moves aside to let his dad slide the cell door shut. James does exactly that, locking it with a firm twist of his wrist.

“I get that you’re scared. But, for your sake, listen to me.” James rises to his full height behind the metal bars. “We are not going to kill you or torture you.”

When I launch at him, he clasps his hand around my wrist through the bars. Rubs his thumb along my pulse point. Makes a sound at the back of his throat.

And steps out of my reach. “We’re going to auction you off. Your virginity. Your body. Your freedom. None of those are yours anymore. They’re ours now. Tomorrow, a new person will be your owner. You’ll be theirs for life.”

Tremors pummel through my body. My teeth clink, but I still fight. Still stretch my hands out through the bars. All so I can maybe, maybe claw James’s eyes out. He’s the one closest to me. Topher, the coward, leans against the farthest wall.

“Calm down,” James says. His gorgeous eyes would look so good in my palm.

“No one’s going to own me,” I growl at them both.

Topher stares at me blankly. As if I’m already gone.

I return to James. “I don’t even have a boyfriend anymore.

I came here as a last courtesy. I was going to dump him.

So get me the fuck out of here and let me go home.

I don’t belong to him. I don’t belong to anyone. ”

If Topher cares about the things I’m shouting at him, he does a great job at hiding it. Not a peep comes out of him.

“Denial won’t do you any good.” James levels me with a dark gaze. “Go to bed. Rest. It will upset us if the bids aren’t high because you have dark circles under your eyes. And trust me, you don’t want us even mildly upset.”

“Motherfucker! Let me out of here!”

My screams are useless. My tears are seen by no one since both men leave me there.

By myself.

“I hate you!”

I’m all alone.

Caged like an animal.

At the mercy of monsters.