Page 63 of Reign of a Billionaire

Liana

“We were born to die,” I whispered, my breath fogging the air. I tried to be brave, but fear rattled my bones every time I stepped foot in this arena. Mother and Ivan called it a training center. It wasn’t. This was where death found its mark.

“Everyone’s born to die.” The dark timbre of his voice soothed the tremors slightly. “It’s just a matter of when.”

“I hate that you… That she makes you fight.”

This was the only spot where nobody ever found us. There was irony in finding safety where the horrors took place.

Clutching the pencil between my lead-stained fingers, I looked up to find his beautiful face. Only… the shadows hid it from me. Each time I shifted, they followed, shrouding him in darkness. How strange, I thought to myself. I clutched the pencil until it hurt, desperate to anchor myself to something that felt real.

I parted my lips to say his name, but the moment I did, the sickening crack of bones echoed through the air. Blood dripped… Drip… Drip… Drip… Until my fingers were soaked with blood.

His blood. My blood.

My heart twisted with agony as the same words repeated on a loop in my head. I can’t lose him, I can’t lose him, I can’t lose him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his words broken and disappearing into the air around us. Just like my fragile heart. “You’re not hurting me.”

Another crack of the bones. More blood gushed out.

“Nooooo!” My shriek pierced through my skull.

My eyes snapped open, and I bolted upright. My panting filled the space as I gasped for air. For a second, I was disoriented. I looked around, expecting to find blood. Instead, all I found was a group of women huddled together, and I remembered where I was.

I pushed a long breath out. This scenario wasn’t much better, but I’d take it over my dream. My fingers were still shaking, but I willed them to stop.

The innate need to lash out—at my captors, at destiny—struck me, but I knew I had to keep a cool head. I wasso closeto finding out what had happened to my sister.

Since I had been taken, it’d been one cage after another. One ship. Then another.

The security had been doubled after my first murder spree. No matter though, because the guards got the message: Stay the fuck away. There wouldn’t be any sampling while I was on this ship.

The last two weeks in this godforsaken cargo ship were maddening as fuck. Christmas had come and gone. So had New Year’s. I killed a solid number of guards only for them to be replaced with new ones, along with another unconscious, frail-looking young woman.

Reina Romero.

I felt a sort of kinship toward her, and stood guard over her while she lay unconscious in her drugged state. She’d murdered several guards, and I had thoroughly enjoyed the show. I decided right then and there that I liked the girl.

My eyes traveled over the sleeping girls.

Helpless. Vulnerable.

Their fathers, brothers, and husbands had either double-crossed or were indebted to Perez, and they were expected to pay the price. It disgusted me and frightened me at the same time. What would become of the captive girls?

In the past two weeks, I’d attempted to teach them some form of self-defense. Even if by some miracle they were all saved when we arrived at our destination, they’d need it eventually. It was only a matter of time. Some of the lessons stuck; a lot of them didn’t.

The howling sounds started, like a haunting lullaby, signaling another day had passed since we had arrived in this hellhole.

It’ll bring me closer to the truth, I reminded myself. Anger at being manipulated and lied to simmered, shooting the adrenaline I needed through my veins. For eight years the video of a woman’s body disintegrating into nothing tormented my mind and soul. Now, I wasn’t sure if it was my sister or someone else. Either way, my revenge wouldn’t stop now, regardless if the woman in the video was my sister or not. Meanwhile, I held on to this tiny flicker of hope. What if my twin was alive?

My mother must know the truth, and I hated her for leading me to believe whatever she needed me to believe. Maybe I’d been young and naive enough to trust it, but she wasn’t.

Soon I would face the evil that orchestrated my abduction and sold my sister. It was all going according to plan—as much as was possible anyway.

A cough pulled me from my thoughts, and I scooted over to Sienna, an eighteen-year-old girl who’d been here even longer than me. She had a horrible case of seasickness, and I didn’t envy her one bit. She’d been throwing up for weeks, barely able to keep anything down. I would have blamed it on the unappealing food, but the rest of us weren’t sick from it.

“I hate ships,” came her weak voice as she rolled over to face me, her eyes fluttering open. “My stepfather’s yacht never made methissick.”