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Prologue

Irene

TWELVE YEARS AGO

“ F uck off!” The new girl shrieks as the man in the mask brings her back. I roll my eyes at her bravery. All her fighting will get her knocked out or sold off faster. Neither of which is ever good for the rest of us, either.

When I first got here four years ago, I witnessed the aftermath of the girls who struggled.

To say the least, it wasn’t pretty.

I was twelve when I was first grabbed, and I fought like hell to get free.

Hours later, I saw an older girl get brutally raped and murdered in front of the group to teach us a lesson.

At the ripe age of twelve, I quickly learned my place.

As time went on, I went to auction only once.

I was the only girl who didn’t get bought or killed.

Not sure whether that was a blessing or a curse, I was immediately put to work. If I didn’t do what was asked?

The whipping marks still healing on my back burn with the not-so-distant memory itself.

A shudder runs up my spine as the sore flesh lays against the cold brick behind me.

Four painful years later, they are considering taking me back to auction now that I’m no longer willing to do their bidding.

Not only that, but they realized I would rather get a whip to the back than doll up another girl for them.

No fucking way. In my mind, there are only three outcomes for me right now.

One: they kill me on the whipping post.

Two: I’m sold off at auction and slaughtered by my buyer.

Three: I’m not sold then used as their own personal plaything.

I’m the only one to survive the night that an auction failed to do what it was supposed to. The others? Shot, execution style, in front of the crowd.

Their joyful cheers still echo in my head.

Rattling chains echo in the distance as girls scream, the henchmen dragging the girl behind them like rag dolls.

“Let’s go,” a voice barks at the front of my cage. I look down at the shackle around my ankle and shake it. Through the sheer cloth of his mask, he rolls his eyes and enters.

Knee him in the face.

Spit in his eyes.

Impale your thumbs-

“There, now move,” he wraps his hand around my bicep, dragging me behind him as we go.

“Don’t want the boss to be upset when your ass is stained red.

” Refusing to say anything that would get me lashes, I keep my lips shut as he yanks me through the compound.

The heavy metal chain chafes my skin, rubbing it raw.

Turn after turn, I have no idea where we are going anymore.

When I ‘helped’ them before, it was only on one side of the compound.

The only time I was auctioned, they put a burlap sack over my head and carried me the whole way there.

Now, I can see exactly where I’m going and who is taking me.

Minus knowing their actual identities, I have never gotten this close to any of the henchmen.

His artery is right there.

Sink your teeth into his throat.

Kill him.

Kill-

The chain catches on a corner, sending me tumbling forward onto the concrete floor. My guide obviously cares for my existence when he fists my hair and wrenches me off the ground before I can gather my footing.

“Watch where you are fucking going, stupid bitch,” he spits while shaking me.

“Boss doesn’t like damaged goods.” Feet barely underneath me, we make it around another corner where several large men are standing shoulder to shoulder.

Shrinking into myself, I can’t stop the whimper that escapes my lips.

If my shackles didn’t notify them before, they sure know now.

All of them glance over at me, one guy in particular not wavering his gaze from me.

He furrows his brows, almost as if he’s confused, before finally looking away.

I glance up at my henchman to see if he caught that, but he’s already gone with another guy.

They reach toward one another as if they are going to kiss when a booming voice comes on the overhead speakers.

With the echo of quiet whimpers around me, I realize I’m not alone. Eyeing them, I quickly count twelve of us.

When did more come in?

Blood thrums in my ears as a muffled voice begins talking on the other side of the curtain. The men who were previously messing around all seem to get into some sort of soldier mode, tugging on the chains of the surrounding women.

I can’t tell what ages they are, but I know I’m not the only one underage.

Pain in my chest grounds me to the real world, the knowledge that men like them feel as though they can treat us like the gum on the bottoms of their shoes.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the fourth annual Flesh and Bones Trade!” Cheers from the crowd can be heard from the other side of the wall.

Panic in the room increases tenfold amongst the girls while the announcer continues.

“We have a very wonderful selection tonight of all shapes, sizes, and ages!”

Again, an uproar.

I swear I can feel the vibrations from everyone back here, their jittering bodies mixed with the high energy from the other side.

A brown-haired girl manages to glance over her shoulder at me, her eyes sunken as if she’s been here just as long as I have.

None of us are fed well, barely getting scraps to keep us alive for the next auctions.

“First, we have a fifteen-year-old female from Mansfield, Ohio. Did you all want to hear her story?” The crowd doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence before they rally together.

My brows furrow when he starts talking about where she was and how they managed to get her.

Since I only ever went to one auction, I don’t remember the specifics, but I feel like I would remember if they started to tell them about my kidnapping story.

“Twelve-thousand!” A female shouts right before “fifteen-thousand!” is called right after.

Up and up, the bids continue to rocket for the female they refuse to call by her name.

The bid finally lands at a whopping sixty-three thousand.

Men escort the sobbing female off the stage, her willowy body barely keeping up with them as they drag her away.

Girl after girl, the henchmen bring them forward for the crowd to ooh and awe over. It’s absolutely disgusting, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. A revolution may be started with one person, but it sure isn’t finished with one.

“Next we have-” he’s cut off by several gunshots.

People scream for an entirely different reason as more voices shout for everyone to get down.

Henchmen do their best to rally the girls they have, but when a stampede of spectators rolls through the doors to the back, they abandon us to save themselves.

Like an out-of-body experience, I slowly back up until my body hits a wall and I watch from the corner of the room as they flurry around in panic.

A smirk lands on my face at the possibility of them getting the same future us girls had

A bullet to the skull sounds oddly satisfying, whether I’m the giver or the receiver.

“Everyone on the ground!” A male voice booms through the halls. Something about the voice sparks a fragile piece inside of me, and my knees crumble under my weight.

A switch flicking on, I wrap my arms around my head and tuck it between my knees. Breathing is a struggle as I fight against my lung capacity.

“You are not going to die,” I mutter to myself, rocking slightly with the tips of my toes.

“Everything is fine. You are not going to die. Everything is fine.” The surrounding chaos slowly fades as I chant over and over to myself.

Demons of all shapes and sizes threaten to creep back over me.

Their hot, sticky bodies touching my skin bring nasty memories to the surface.

“You are nothing better than a hot pocket to be in,” they snicker behind their burlap head wraps.

“Please stop,” I whisper, shaking my head and hugging myself tighter. Willing the racing thoughts to simply leave me be, but it’s no use. “Stop!” My hands plant over my head as voices surround me, the deep baritones of men who simply live to degrade us and make us smaller than they are.

Something lands on my shoulder, and the out-of-body experience deepens further as I grab the wrist and yank.

Someone stumbles toward me, though they aren’t what I’m looking for.

Instinctively, I grasp the weapon holstered on the hip of the male.

He isn’t fast enough to stop me. Trembling fingers grip the harsh plastic handle as I aim outward, warding them off of me as I scramble to stand.

“Woah,” one of the guys says, his voice soft but rough. They won’t trick me like this again. “Take it easy, young lady. We are not here to hurt you.”

“That’s what they all say!” I scream, and when he takes a single step forward, I grip it with both hands. He stops, his hands pulling upward in a mock surrender. “Backup! All of you!”

They follow the command silently, taking several steps back. One of the guys moves to step out of the formation, but he stops when I turn the barrel on him.

“What’s your name?” The guy asks again. I scoff. Does he seriously not know us? Typical men trying to rage-bait me and the others into thinking they are here to help. “I’m Haze, from the Blood Reapers Motorcycle Club.”

Something about that makes the thoughts in my head spin as if I have heard that somewhere. He moves, just barely, but that brings me out of my thought bubble.

“Don’t move!” I shriek again, my heart racing in my chest as I think about the girls. Oh God, I have to get to the others…“Where are the other girls? What have you done with them? Loaded them up to take them to the next destination for filthy fucking pigs like you?”

My mouth runs a mile a minute, and I don’t stop it. It’s either their last day or mine.