Page 19

Eighteen

Ophelia

Sebastian leaves, and it’s just me and the goth guy. He said his name yesterday, but I can’t remember it. I grip the blanket tighter than I’ve ever gripped anything. I never thought I’d be sad to see Sebastian go, but this guy could be worse. Sebastian doesn’t share, but does this man give a shit about that?

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you or take that blanket away. Promise. I’m Gabriel.”

“Ophelia.” I pause, then add, “Calder.”

“I know who you are.” There’s a long pause, and he seems to be debating with himself, but at least he’s not coming near me. My heart rate starts to slow, but his next words fling it up into the stratosphere.

“I don’t know how much you know about your family business, but a few months ago, a Calder spy abducted Eve. My Ward. He planned to steal my research, kill me, and sell her into slavery. Human trafficking.” He studies my face. “Did you know about that?”

What? Stealing research and tech? Sure. But my family aren’t in the skin trade. My dad has his faults—a lot of them—but he wouldn’t allow that. Harrison? Maybe. But he’s not in charge. Not yet.

“No. That can’t be right.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrow, and his gaze is a laser, staring into my soul. “You really think that?”

I lift my chin. “Yes.”

His face relaxes, just a little, but his gaze never wavers. “I’ll leave the rest of that discussion to Sebastian. But pay close attention to me now. Out there”—he jerks his head toward the bedroom door—“are two women. Eve and Quinn. They’re very excited to meet you, and they’ll help you get settled in.”

He glances to the window, then back again. “I know you’ll be desperate to escape. You might even be tempted to threaten or hurt one of the girls to get your way. You might not understand everything your family does, but you’re still a Calder.”

There’s no real threat in his voice, but my skin prickles anyway as he continues. “I love Eve more than anything else on this planet. Jacob feels the same way about Quinn—and when you meet Jacob, you’ll understand why pissing him off is a really, really bad idea. If it crosses your mind to raise a finger to either of those girls, squash that thought. Do you understand me?”

There’s only one answer, and it’s out of my mouth before I even consider it. “Yes. Of course.”

Do I mean it, though? Sebastian said all the women here are captives. Could I hurt one of them if it meant getting out of here? My dad would in a heartbeat. And does this guy seriously expect me to believe he’s in love with his slave?

The longer I spend in this place, the less sense it makes.

Gabriel watches me for another long moment, then nods. “Okay. Give me your leg, and I’ll unlock the shackle.”

I do, trying not to flash any more skin than I absolutely have to. Gabriel works the key in the lock, and the shackle falls to the wooden floor with a clunk. He holds up the key, then pockets it. “One wrong move, and you’re in here till Seb gets back.”

Great. Another man, telling me what to do. He gets to his feet. “I’ll send the girls in.”

What? Now? I almost tell him I need to dress first but then remember the clothes I’m allowed. If I’m going to meet new people, the blanket is preferable. “I need five minutes.”

I don’t call him sir, even though, apparently, it’s expected, and he doesn’t remark on it. “Okay.”

I spend the next five minutes in the bathroom, mostly staring at my face in the mirror. Yesterday, with everything, I didn’t have the chance to process the changes to my appearance. Now, it’s all I can see.

The worst thing is, I don’t hate it.

When I was younger, I longed to dye my hair crazy colors, but Dad would have killed me. One of the reasons I picked on Maggie was her hair. She had a new color every few weeks, and her parents didn’t give a shit. Jealousy turned to hatred in my dumb teenage brain.

I wrap the blanket around me like a dress, tucked in tight, as I study my lips. They don’t hurt anymore, and the effect is subtle, not like the duck face some women love. It adds sensuality to my features, and I can’t stop staring. I touch them, and even the glittery nail tips don’t look out of place, paired with the hair and eyelashes. It’s different, but I can’t convince myself it’s all bad.

Only the bedroom door clicking open pulls me away.

“Hello? Ophelia?” a bright voice calls. “We’re coming in, okay?”

I take a deep breath and step into the bedroom. Two women hover just inside the door. One is tiny, with a mass of bright green hair, a crop top, and a miniskirt that covers about as much of her as my outfit choices will me .

The other is a little taller, has her long brown hair in a sensible ponytail, and wears jeans and a black T-shirt decorated with a Cheshire Cat grin. The curly script reads Step into Wonderland. A choker circles her throat, and though I can’t be sure, everything about it screams collar.

They couldn’t be more different, though they both wear identical pairs of metal cuffs on their wrists. Weird. Which one is Gabriel’s Ward? His slave? My stomach clenches as I think the word while looking at these two real women, these human beings, trapped here for the pleasure of sick men.

The smaller one squeals. “Oh my God. Your hair is fucking amazing. I wish I could get mine shiny like that, but it’s damaged as all fuck.” She brandishes a chunk of her thick hair in my direction. “See?”

I stammer, “Uh…” as the taller girl gives me a warm smile.

“Hi. I’m Eve, and this is Quinn.” Her warm brown eyes flick to the pet bed, and my face heats as her hand flies to her mouth before she covers her shock. “I’m guessing you’ve had a rough first day.”

“You could say that.” To my horror, my bottom lip wobbles, and I breathe hard to stifle a sob. I’ve been clinging to control for so long that it won’t take much to strip it from me.

Eve nods. “We’ve both been through it. We know how you feel. I cried my head off at first.”

“And I set fire to Jacob’s favorite stuff,” Quinn chimes in. “Though in my defense, I was really, really fucking drunk.”

I stagger to the bed and collapse onto the edge, head in my hands. The girls sit either side of me, and one of them wraps an arm around my shoulders. Eve speaks. “You’re not on your own here. We don’t know each other yet, but we will. You’ve got friends.”

Not don’t worry, we’re getting out of here .

Not these bastards won’t win in the end.

Not we’ll kill these assholes together.

Friends. They want to be friends. They’re just as messed up as everything else in this place, and I’ll get no help from them. My skin heats, and my blood pounds in my ears. If what Sebastian said was true, I might not get released today. They might actually decide to take my family on. How long can I survive here? There’s nothing I can do to help myself. Nothing at all.

Jesus Christ, stop being a whiny, pathetic little girl. You’re a Calder.

My dad’s voice rings through my head, pulling me back from the brink.

Eve speaks again. She seems to be in charge, out of the two of them. “I know it’s a lot. You must have a million questions. We’ll answer them, if we can.”

Just what I need. Rote answers from brainwashed zombies. So helpful.

Except, maybe it is.

When we were setting up my salon, my dad lectured me nonstop. The most valuable asset in the world is information. While your girls stick preservatives into these dumb bitches’ faces, listen to what they’ve got to say. Chances are they’ll drop something useful once in a while.

The jittery edge of panic recedes, as it often does when I give myself a problem to chew on. Even if these women are institutionalized, they’re still useful. They’ll have information and might be able to move around without a guardian.

I force my shoulders to relax and my head to lift. Eve and Quinn glance at each other, then Quinn bounces to her feet. “First step—let’s get the fuck out of this room. Away from…” He r gaze shifts to the pet bed. She takes a slow step toward it, as if dragged by an invisible force.

“Quinn.” Warning resonates through Eve’s voice. “Don’t you—”

“I have to. Sorry.” Quinn flings herself onto the pet bed and wriggles up to the pillow. “Oh. Oh my fucking God, this is comfy. I bet Seb had this hand-stitched by some blind Italian that only makes one bed a year or something.”

She sits up, grinning at me. “If you like fancy rich person shit, you got the right guy. Seriously. I’m going to ask Jacob for one of these. Perfect for gaming.”

Eve lets out a long sigh. “For God’s sake. She’s only just arrived.”

It should make me angry, Quinn making light of my captivity, but looking at her in the bed loosens the suffocating shame that’s been choking me. Seen through her eyes, it’s different, something to laugh at. And she’s right, it is insanely comfy.

For the first time since Sebastian forced me into his car, a smile touches my lips. My voice comes out quiet, but the girls turn to me, listening. “At school, Sebastian always wore baggy jeans and ratty, old T-shirts. I can’t believe how discerning he turned out.”

Quinn’s eyes widen. “I need all the gossip right now. Anything I can use against him the next time he makes fun of me.”

Eve chimes in, “That does sound fun, but we need to get her dressed, remember?”

She turns to me, face coloring. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk about you like you aren’t here. It’s one of my pet hates, and it happens a lot in the Compound. Gabriel said you need to get dressed. Seb insisted. We’ll head out to the living room, but don’t worry, Gabriel won’t hover around. He’s going to work in Seb’s office. ”

Seb. She calls him Seb. As if he’s a friend, someone she’s comfortable with. It grates against my nerves.

Quinn jumps up. “Ooooh, what clothes do you have? I bet it’s all designer, right?”

My heart sinks again as my eyes stray to the closet. I sigh. “The opposite. He’s gone for more of a ten-dollar hooker vibe.”

An awkward silence falls, which Quinn breaks almost instantly. Defeating uncomfortable moments seems to be her superpower. She gestures dramatically to herself. “Don’t worry. Jacob won’t let me wear bras. Or anything except fucking skirts, and most of them are tiny. Pretty sure everyone in this place has copped an eyeful at some point. No one gives a shit.”

There’s something so goddamn reassuring about Quinn’s attitude. If she was in my place, she wouldn’t be wallowing in shame and self-pity. She’d probably give Sebastian the finger and walk out the door stark naked to call his bluff. I need a little more of her attitude and a little less of my own.

“Where are they? It can’t be that bad. We’ll make it work.” Eve smiles reassuringly as I point out the drawer. Within ten seconds, Quinn has everything dumped out and spread across the floor. She snatches up a silver miniskirt and squeals. “Holy fuck. I love this. What size are you?”

“You can’t steal her clothes.” Eve sounds annoyed, but it’s the friendly annoyance of people who love each other’s company.

Quinn huffs and puts it down before grabbing a miniature blue halter top that would barely cover my breasts. “This one. You’ll look smoking hot in this, and it matches your hair. Come on. Drop the blanket and try it.”

There’s a big, big part of me that wants to roll myself up in the blanket, throw myself down on the pet bed, and refuse to move until someone makes me. But that won’t bring me any closer to freedom. Getting the hell over myself and facing this, though? That might actually help.

I steel myself and examine the clothes. “Okay. What else do you think?”

Two hours later, I’m seated on the sofa with the girls, watching some ridiculous reality show Eve insisted I’d love. I don’t, but I’m not going to argue when she and Quinn are clearly having a good time and just being around them is lifting my mood. It’s a wrench to my heart when Quinn glances at the clock and leaps up.

“Shit. I need to get to Medical. It’s my checkup.”

Eve frowns. “Again?”

“Yep. My ECG was a bit off last week. Probably nothing, but they’re checking me every fucking day. It’s so annoying, but if Jacob finds out I skipped, he won’t let me come for a week. I’ll die.”

I ignore that comment, tempted as I am to pry into it, because something just pricked my brain and I’m trying to catch it. I keep my voice neutral as I ask, “There’s a medical center here?”

Quinn grins. “Oh yeah. The fanciest one on the planet, and it’s all completely free. One of the benefits of being a sex slave.”

“Jesus! Quinn!”

I should ask why Quinn needs the ECG, or at least give some sign I'm still in this conversation, but the wispy memory thread just got stronger. My dad and Harrison, celebrating.

Right in the heart of the place. Fucking Medical.

It’s tenuous, but I clutch it. My family has spies everywhere. I try to remember more of the conversation, but at the time, I gave it zero thought. Could they have been talking about the Compound?

Only one way to find out.