Page 11

(16-years-old)

“Fuck!”

I yell when the knife Blithe flung my way pierces my arm. It’s not the first time.

“Just because someone isn’t directly approaching you for a fight, doesn't mean one won’t be behind you to stab you in the back. Pay attention.”

B pops me on the back of the head the way he does when he thinks I'm being clueless. “And watch your mouth.”

I'm used to being the smartest person in the room, given the amount of time I had on my hands to read books and unofficially homeschool myself and Cami. Unfortunately, that is not the case here. Blithe says knowing my way around knifes isn’t good enough when it comes to surviving here, and he would be right. My skills with a blade have grown since he has taken me under his wing. Not only has he been working to correct my mistakes he has also been teaching me combat relentlessly.

I had quite the growth spurt this past year if I do say so myself. It's put me at a better advantage than I would have been. I'm still not as tall as everyone else, but I'm not considered tiny anymore. No matter how much I work out with B though, I can't seem to put on any real weight. He says it doesn't matter because everything I do have is all muscle. And since my clothes are so baggy you would never know until it hit you.

“Sorry, I'm just distracted today.”

“What's going on?”

His fatherly side takes over and in an instant he’s next to me searching my face for the answers.

“Marcus wants to see me soon.”

Blithe purses his lips and takes a deep breath to compose himself.

Cami and Anya are practicing footwork in the far corner of the courtyard that B assigned to them. Anya is the same age as Cami’s ten years, and they stick together like glue. Both have declared the other to be their sister from another mister and B and I don’t question it. He’s been here longer than me and took Anya under his wing almost immediately after his arrival. She calls him dad and everything. He says if we ever get out of here he’ll adopt all three of us.

It's a silly dream that wouldn’t ever come true, so I try not to think about it. If it were to magically occur, I couldn’t imagine anyone better to parent Cami and me.

“Listen little devil... You do really well with hiding your pain, which is not a compliment. Your mother was a piece of shit and I wish to hell the bitch was still alive so I could her that.”

He’s right, mom was a piece of shit. Soon after we were brought here, and her death had really settled in I was flooded with relief. I have only traded one prison for another though.

“What she should have been teaching you was to not trust anyone. You have got to close yourself off Har. You took to me like a magnet, and I get it because I was welcoming, but others are going to pretend to be welcoming too. Only their real face will show after you finally open your walls. You have to be careful and protect yourself.”

I nod knowing he’s right and this is something I’ve been working on. Besides Blithe and Anya, Cami and I haven't really connected with anyone else here. A few passing words here and there is all.

There’s another boy around my age that comes around from time to time, his names Rex. His father is in business with Marcus. He gives me extra glances in passing and when we occupy the same room his gaze tends to linger a bit longer than socially acceptable. Cami says he likes me. I worked up the courage to say hi the other day after a meeting and he said he’d find a way for us to get to know each other at a later date. Now whether that was for friendship purposes or more, I'm not sure.

I suck in a sharp breath as my neck began to tingle with the vibration of my collar. The calling signal. If it buzzes, you run. That’s the rule.

“Got to go.”

I wave a hand at my collar and B understood what it meant. He gives me a quick hug before I leave the court yard for Marcus’s office.

The compound is huge. I know that Marcus has more legitimate businesses, but everything is ran out of here.

My job is quite simple and not a huge leap from what I had already been doing for mom. I oversee incoming shipments and make sure that everything looks in order, and the amount of product we receive or distribute is correct and uncut. I also continue my carver practices when I'm sent out to execute the idiots who thought they could get one over on a deranged son of bitch.

I compose myself when I reach the door to Marcus’s office, clearing my throat with a light knock.

“Come in.”

I step into the office and the door clicks shut behind me. It’s only Marcus in here today, which is unusual. Normally he has a band of gold followers on his ass.

The gold level acolytes no longer have collars because they can be trusted. If the lack of collar doesn't clue you in on this, then the scar running through their left brows, and down to their cheeks would. They prance around like they’re the baddest motherfuckers to walk earth, but they’re just a bunch of pussies.

“Ah... Harlyn, good of you to join me.”

I say nothing because I had no fucking choice in the matter anyways and he knows this. He likes to remind us all who’s in power at every opportunity presented.

“How can I help you sir?”

He lets out a long, low groan and scrubs a hand down his face. I refrain from taking on a bewildered look because B says no one should ever know what I'm feeling.

“You have got to stop doing that Harlyn, it isn’t time yet.”

“Apologies sir, I'm not sure what you mean. Isn’t time for what?”

He pushes his chair away from his desk and motions for me to come over. An uneasy feeling stirs in my belly, but I don’t show it. I always feel this way around him, it's nothing new. He watches me more than he watches the others. Like he's cataloging all of my movements.

When I round the corner of his desk he grabs my arm and tugs me forward until I'm standing between his spread legs. The unease grows massively, and I struggle not to shift uncomfortably.

He grabs my chin in his large hand, smooshing my cheeks a bit and his lips part. My inner panic alarm blares, and I breathe through my nose and out through my mouth slowly.

“You’re 16 now. In two more years, you will be mine.”

It's a miracle that I don’t flinch and fall on my ass. What the fuck is he talking about?

“Sir?”

I try to keep my voice calm and add a little chest behind it, so it doesn't sound as breathy as it often does. I don’t think that will help this situation.

He groans again, only louder. “Fuck, I love it when you call me that.”

His free hand goes to his crotch, and he rubs his dick through his slacks.

My heart beats a mile a minute as I grasp what he's saying.

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

God please no.

The man has got to be no less than twenty years older than me and I'm not even an adult yet. Memories of Cliff try to come out from the hiding spot I stuffed them in all those years ago and I shove them back where they belong. In the fucking trash.

Marcus wants me? Like wants me, wants me?

I must have said that last bit out loud because his grip gets tighter and he pulls me closer to his body, to the point where I can feel how hard he is against my leg.

I swallow the bile threatening to choke me.

“Who wouldn’t fucking want you? You’re a work of art. I see the way that Rex looks at you when he thinks nobody is watching. I was willing to ignore it, but then you approached him.”

His hand comes down hard on my ass and remains there while he moves it around in his meaty hand.

I feel so fucking sick, but I don’t dare move or let my calm slip. He shouldn’t be touching me like this. It makes me feel dirty, like I need to take a shower and scrub his existence off of my skin, then burn my clothing.

“I just wanted to let you know that you’ve been claimed pretty boy. Now I'm considered a lot of things but known for fucking a child isn’t one of them. So, I can wait it out two more years. In the meantime, you aren’t to let anyone touch what’s mine, understand?”

I'm no longer breathing. I'm positive my face is as red as a tomatoe from lack of oxygen, but I fear if I let my breaths run wild they will have a mind of their own and I'll hyperventilate myself to death.

I'm already a prisoner and now he's claimed me? He wants to... Fuck me? I wasn’t born under a rock, I know what that entails, lots of people in the compound do it. With the shit show that is my life, and my taking care of Cami, I just never saw it as an option for me. Certainty not with him.

“Now, come here.”

He starts to pull my face towards his and his lips part aiming for my mouth, tongue at the ready.

I drew a fucking line in the sand when I feel his breath ghost across my lips and snap my head to the side before he can devour me, if the crazed look in his eye was any indication.

He glares at me and hits the button on the edge of his desk that calls for one of the gold acolytes. Sean enters with a grin on his face, the creepy fuck.

“Bring Cami to my office immediately.”

When I refused to give Marcus a reaction to his beloved torture device he began to use Cami against me. She isn’t able to hold back her cries and I want to eat my own flesh when I hear her howls. Fear freezes me momentarily before I snap out of it and intervene.

“Wait!”

Sean doesn't pause so I face Marcus and lie like a motherfucker, how mom taught me.

“I only turned away because you said it would be frowned upon until I turned 18. I would hate to bring shame upon your successful name.”

I lay a hand on his chest for extra encouragement and his face actually softens!

I don’t let the confusion deter or trick me. He's a sick man like Cliff, and we all know how sick men deserve to die. My eyes slip to Marcus’s forehead, and I imagine what it would be like to cut off the hand that holds so much power. My mind clears itself of anxiety when I picture the devil etched into his skin in blood and beauty and I smile.

He seems to like this because he stands and pulls me into a tight hug. It's unnatural and unwanted. I squirm internally.

Marcus leads me to the chair opposite his, in front of the desk and sits me down with gentle hands I didn’t know he possessed. It was then I noticed the takeout sitting on top of it. I must have missed it with all the crack in the air tonight. He takes his seat after me and looks at me once more and that’s when I see it.

Unmistakable longing and borderline obsession stares back at me. How had I missed that?

He giggles like a child, only it has a manic edge to it and I suppress a wince. “I should have known you would feel the same way. I mean after all I've done for you, how could you not?”

He says dreamily.

All that he's done for me? Kill my mother, take me and my sister as captors for his own personal use as lap dogs? He’s fucking mad.

“I had heard about you, you know? What started as the Gala Bandit and then the Devil that people had to watch out for. I was curious. I didn’t come to your house that day to recruit you, I just wanted to feel you out. The process is usually a lot longer than that. The second I laid eyes on you; I just knew I could not leave without you though. You are a masterpiece and I wanted to fuck you right then and there, so everyone would know who you belonged to.”

I would undoubtedly cry if I could. It hasn’t occurred in years, but this is next level insane, even for me. And people thought I was nuts.

“I had no idea you felt this way, thank you for telling me.”

My regular voice is back, figuring it's my safest bet at this point to keep him happy and away from my baby sister at all costs.

“Well now you know. We are going to make a great team Harlyn. I'm unable to leave the compound because there is business that needs tending soon, as you well know. However, I figured we could take this time to get to know one another a bit more before duty calls.”

His hand flicks to the food and I take that as my cue to follow suit.

Once again I'm reminded of how much the universe hates me. I was once his dog and now I'm his bitch.