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CHAPTER ELEVEN

One by one, we stood in meticulous lines. Everyone looked the exact same, with neatly pinned hair and black tulle dresses paired with black heels. I didn’t understand. There was no white anywhere like the top floors of the resort or at the Ivory house I was accustomed to. This was absolute darkness. I always thought I’d never be able to look at white the same way—that I’d be ruined and scared. But here I was, surrounded by darkness, and I realized there was more to hide here. There was more to fear here.

“Let’s go, nightingales.” Carlo straightened his shoulders and looked grim. As each girl walked past him, he tapped their shoulder.

Karina glanced back at me once more. “I hope the bullet doesn’t land on you.” She walked out the door, and I stood next to Carlo. I was the last girl.

“You’re in cage eight after the show.” He tapped my shoulder, and as I put one foot in front of the other, Carlo’s cold hand gripped my arm.

“Demi, they know who you are and what you’ve done to their family. I… It was nice knowing you.” Carlo’s brows knitted together as he sighed. My entire plan had always been to figure out what was here on this private island. I thought it was a place of solace for Bradley and me to finally start living. My heart ached every time I thought about him. I loved him. Maybe I still did. Knowing he was here after we both tried to kill each other in some way made me feel safer. It felt like we were both supposed to live and had a purpose.

The tulle was itchy on my legs as I stepped forward and left the dressing room. We were all ushered into seats in front of the stage where the empty cage sat. My heart began racing as I noticed the rest of the girls legs shook in fear. Suddenly, the screen behind the cage turned on and began showing black-and-white images of women in aprons, serving men. I looked behind us and my eyes widened. The male resort guests were trickling into the movie theater-styled seating with popcorn buckets in their hands. “Hey, what is this?” I looked at the girl beside me, wishing I was sitting next to Karina or someone I had already spoken to.

The girl looked at me with zero emotion and smiled. “Euphoria,” she whispered.

“What does that mean?” I hated this. I hated feeling like I was the mouse when I had sworn I’d be the cat this time.

Alister Ivory took the stage and stood in front of the cage. He brushed his fingers against it. Oh no, I couldn’t afford for him to see me. He’d have me killed. Glancing side to side, I dug my nails into the fishnet tights. I had on significantly more makeup and my hair was black. Alister had only known me as the blonde, bare-faced Demi in all white.

“Gentlemen, you have been meticulously selected to join us at La Gabbia’s Euphoria collection. This aspect of our all-inclusive resort is built on the belief that men must have an outlet. This program has been devised and revised for over a century, composed of the three Rs.

Rage

Release

Relaxation

“You see, in today’s day and age, men and women have become equals—too much of equals. It’s disruptive to the balance of our world. Women have always been created to be our submissive while men are dominants. The basis of human origin is sex. Sex is what men need to thrive and show status. As a strong believer in marriage, I do think the two don’t always run parallel to one another. Marriage is a bond between a couple that depicts more of an emotional care versus physical. It’s unfortunate, but true.” Peeking over my shoulder, I watch the men eat their popcorn and nod in agreement.

Meanwhile, all I wanted to do was run on stage and knee Alister in his crotch, so he’d never feel pleasure again. How could he love and appreciate marriage so much, but he was a perpetual bachelor?

“This program was designed for the men who build our society into the habitable, adaptable, and advanced civilization. Without the powerful, intelligent, and talented men, this world would be nothing. I know you don’t feel appreciated or desired after a long day of work. I know your wives nag you and taunt your masculinity. The laws that are put into place are toxic. You should be able to release your inner rage and urges in peace.”

Alister paused and looked in my direction. I dropped my eyes quickly and hoped under my breath that he didn’t see me.

Clearing his throat, he continued, “You see, my friends, ultimately when we allow a woman to have the privilege of being our wife, they alter and change who they are. They feel cherished and loved. They begin to stop taking care of themselves and us. Here at La Gabbia-Euphoria, I have built a program where you can release the natural urges all men have.”

“Tonight, we won’t have our usual performance. My star-performer is not feeling well enough to go into her cage.” Alister pointed behind him.

There were some whispers filled with annoyance by the men in the seating behind us.

“But fear not, you each have your very own fantasy assigned to you. The gorgeous nightingales in front of you are here to serve you and your wildest dreams. Please remember, at the end, one guest will be selected to participate in my favorite part of the experience. Until then, enjoy your release. Your wives are all sipping champagne poolside, thinking their husbands are in resort group therapy.” Alister and the rest of the men laughed.

I was gritting my teeth while clenching my fists.

The girls were all so thin and under their eyes were deepened bags, probably from malnourishment.

The room was too dark. Only the glimmers from the one light that shined on Alister allowed me to see the others. I wanted to be a coward and run; I wanted to go back upstairs to the main resort and find Bradley and beg him to explain everything to me.

Alister sat on the black stool and placed his elbows on his knees while leaning forward. “We call the girls in Euphoria my precious little nightingales. There is a reason for this, gentlemen.”

“In ancient Greek mythology, there was a goddess called Philomela. She was raped and mutilated by her sister’s husband, Tereus. She eventually got revenge and was transformed into a nightingale, a bird renowned for its song. But there’s more to this story that will be uncovered as we create our own journey with my gorgeous nightingales, that I’m sharing with you thirsty bastards. Ultimately, the only nightingales that can sing are males, and that is how it should be. Women need to be silenced; we are too tired to listen to their nonsense. They don’t need a voice and there is only one good use for their pretty little mouths.”

Laughter echoed around us as the men clapped. My head was light as I recalled Ian Ivory’s obsession with Greek mythology and the story about the peonies. The story Alister Ivory was fixated on was about a woman who was mutilated and raped? I looked around at the girls, who were stoic. I could see tears streaming down some of their cheeks, while others looked as if they were void of all emotion.

“Nightingales, it is time for you to report to your cages and remember to make daddy happy.” I officially wanted to vomit. The girls stood around me and began walking in sync.

“Get up.” Karina was in the row in front of me. She cut her eyes and shook her head as I looked behind me and the line I was holding up because I was frozen. I didn’t want to go and see what was next. I didn’t want to save these girls. I wanted to run away and let them die the same way I did to the girls back in Charlotte.

How could I single-handedly end this without getting myself killed? I also knew that day in the ocean when another boat appeared to save me wasn’t a coincidence. Bradley and I were being followed and watched. The Ivory family had eyes and ears everywhere. They only let you die if they want you dead. They know the greater torture is being alive and under their control.