Page 1 of Convict's Game

Prologue

Mila

Tonight, I’d girlbossed too close to the sun.

The disused office block where I waited was a holding cell. A place they kept women ahead of transporting them to their fate.

Somewhere I’d willingly walked into days ago, but had done so knowing I could walk out at any time, once I had what I’d come for.

I’d been so confident in my plan. Now, that confidence faded.

My hands trembled, and I hid them at my spine so the man in the doorway wouldn’t see.

Salter pointed from my room to the hall, rings glinting on his fingers. “Go.”

Shit. If he was kicking me out, everything I’d tried to do was over.

Shrinking in on myself, I crept into the corridor. Horror stalled my steps. A new moon had the city of Deadwater in a darkness so thick, only the neon purple glow from a window to the street lit the scene.

It couldn’t hide how two of Salter’s cronies held a man, gagged with cloth and on his knees with his hands and legs tied. He gave a muffled growl and fought his captors, bigger than them but outnumbered.

My brother. My backup plan. The one person who knew I was here and could get me out by force if needed.

Shock stole my breath. “What is this?”

From a sheath at his belt, Salter slid out a blade. Tested the edge of it against his nail. “This is checkmate, Miss Marchant. I’ll make this short. We know who you are. Why you’re on my fucking turf is the more interesting question, but I’m more inclined to consider what you can do for me. This is yours, correct?”

How did he know my name? I’d been so careful.

I didn’t get a chance to ask. Salter hooked his knife under my brother’s chin, stopping his struggles. A thin line of blood ran down the blade, the colour tinged strange by the light.

I clasped my hands to my mouth. “Stop. Don’t hurt him.”

The gangster gave a cold laugh and mimicked me. “Stop, don’t. If you shut your bitch mouth and obey my every word, he lives.”

At my frantic nod, he withdrew the knife.

“It just so happens I can use you. You’ve heard of the skeleton crew and the chase-fuck game they operate in their warehouse?”

“The…the what?”

He held his cruel gaze on me. “It’s as it sounds. A group of men hunting women. Twenty versus five all locked in together. Cages, bloodshed, paying viewers. Each man fights the others to catch and fuck a woman, then to keep her as his property, her body under his ownership from then on. It’s, shall we say, brutal.”

It sounded terrifying. “What does this have to do with me?”

“One of the contestants is a man I need brought to heel. Guess which role you’ll be playing?”

No, no! This had all gone wrong. I wasn’t naïve, at least I didn’t think I was. I’d grown up in this city of sin until fate elevated me from its dark side.

“I don’t think—” I started.

Without warning, Salter grasped my throat then threw me to the floorboards. I landed hard and cried out. When I rolled up, I linked my gaze to their prisoner’s furious one.

I loved my brother, even if we barely knew each other. Even if family politics had kept us apart for most of our lives until I’d corrected that mistake. He couldn’t be hurt because of my decisions.

The knife was again at his throat, tight against his beating pulse.

Salter’s lips curled in an ugly smile. “Choose wrong and he dies. Are you going to play, Miss Marchant? Yes or no?”