Page 56 of Rescuing Aria

“God, I’m such an idiot.” Ember joins us, her expression stricken. “We shouldn’t have been talking about that stuff with you here.”

“No, please.” Ryn finally looks up, her expression complicated—not quite distress, but something harder to define. “You don’t have to stop on my account.”

“We don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” I say gently.

“You’re not. Not really.” She sets down her crystal, wiping her hands on her apron with deliberate care. “It’s actually… It helps. In a weird way.”

“Helps?” Ember asks, confused.

Ryn nods, a strand of auburn hair falling across her face. She tucks it behind her ear with a self-conscious gesture. “Hearing you talk like that. About—sex. Like it’s normal. Fun.” Her voice drops on the last word, as if testing how it feels in her mouth. “That you can still be in control…”

“Itshouldbe fun,” Ember says softly.

“I know.” Ryn takes a deep breath, her narrow shoulders rising and falling. “And I need to hear that. Especially after—everything.”

The weight of unspoken history hangs between us. We know pieces of Ryn’s story—snippets she’s shared. Enough to understand the horror she escaped, but not the full picture.

“It’s not what you think, though,” she continues, her voice steadying. “What happened to me. Or what didn’t happen.”

“What do you mean?” I’m careful to keep my tone neutral and non-pressuring.

Ryn’s fingers trace the edge of a crystal, the repetitive motion seeming to calm her. “I wasn’t… They didn’t…” She takes another breath, deeper this time. “They never touched me. That way.”

Ember and I exchange confused glances. The trafficking ring that had taken Ryn specialized in selling young women to wealthy buyers. We naturally assumed…

“I was supposed to be auctioned.” Ryn’s voice turns flat, matter-of-fact, a defense mechanism I recognize all too well. “High-dollar sale. They keep the merchandise pristine for that kind of transaction.”

The clinical way she refers to herself—merchandise—makes my stomach turn. I’ve spent my life among the ultra-wealthy, have seen the casual objectification of women in those circles, but this is something far darker.

“They told me I’d fetch a premium price because I was…” She looks down at her hands, slender fingers stained with wax and oils. “Because I’ve never been with anyone.”

The revelation settles between us like a stone dropped in still water, ripples of understanding spreading outward. Not horror at abuse suffered, but horror at what almost happened. What would have happened if Guardian HRS hadn’t found her in time.

“I’m eighteen, although they thought I was much younger,” she continues, her voice stronger now. “Most of the other girls were… Younger, that is. The men who buy girls pay extra for firsts.”

The casual brutality of the statement lands hard. I think of my own first time—awkward, fumbling, with a prep-school boyfriend who’d been as nervous as I was. The luxury of that normal experience, which I’d taken for granted, now seems impossibly precious.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, the words hopelessly inadequate. “We shouldn’t have been so flippant.”

“No, really, it’s okay.” Ryn looks up, a small smile ghosting across her face. “It’s actually—nice. Hearing you talk about choice. About trust.” She picks up her crystal again, turning it in the light so it catches fire with inner colors. “Someday, maybe I’ll have that too. With someone who sees me as a person, not a-a thing to be bought.”

The simple statement, full of quiet hope, brings unexpected tears to my eyes. At eighteen, I’d been focused on college applications and social status. Ryn, at the same age, is rebuilding a life from shattered pieces, finding the courage to hope for something as basic as human connection.

Ember reaches out, squeezing Ryn’s shoulder gently. “You will,” she promises, her voice fierce with conviction. “When you’re ready. On your terms.”

Ryn nods, returning to her work with renewed focus, carefully placing the rose quartz in its wax bed. “So,” she says, the deliberate change of subject clear, “Jon makes you keep your hands above your head?”

“Yes. He did.” The unexpected question startles a laugh from me.

“And you like it?” There’s genuine curiosity in Ryn’s voice, no judgment.

“I do.” The honesty feels like freedom. “I really did.”

“Huh.” She considers this, head tilted thoughtfully. “And Blaze pins you to walls?” This directed at Ember, who grins.

“Among other things.”

“Good to know.” Ryn nods again, absorbing this information with serious consideration.