I’m supposed to be a trainer. Or at least that’s what the Russians told Anton. I’m supposed to be one of the best slave trainers from New York City, coming down on loan from the Russian mob there. Anton apparently just lost a guy to the recent turf wars, and he needs me to fill in that position.
“What do you think?” Anton asks me softly. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”
I stare at the girls, and I wish I had my gun. I’d mow down these bastards and free the girls.
But that’s not my goal and I know it. I have to keep myself under control.
“Beautiful,” I say. “But what’s the test?”
“Pick one,” Anton says. “Pick one, break her, train her. Make her a perfect little slave. And then I’ll accept you.”
I stare at the girls, horrified, but I knew this was a possibility.
I take a deep breath and nod. I walk down the line of girls, inspecting them, looking closely. When I get to the seventh girl, I stop and stare at her, my pulse jumping in my chest.
She’s gorgeous, absolutely stunning. She’s in her early twenties and looks like she was abused the least out of every girl in the lineup. Her eyes are wide and deep green and her hair is a thick auburn color. She has a perfect figure that practically spills out of the skimpy, tiny lingerie they shoved her in.
I stare at her for a second before nodding at her. “This one,” I say.
“Perfect,” Anton answers, laughing. The men all cheer then stand up and begin making their own choices. “You made a great choice, Logan, my friend,” Anton says. “That one is particularly stubborn.”
“What now?” I ask him.
“Now you meet her. Then you both travel to our compound in Mexico for the real work.”
I nod and glance back at the girl. I expected the trip to Mexico, since I knew that’s where they do most of their serious training work. But I didn’t think I’d be going so soon.
It doesn’t matter. I stare at the girl, my eyes hard, and I wonder what she’s thinking.
Riley Nosek. Daughter of the filthy rich furniture magnate, Rufus Nosek. Anton clearly doesn’t know what he has here, or else she’d be squirreled away somewhere very, very safe.
Instead, Rufus hired my firm to take care of this. More specifically, he requested their best man for the job, and apparently I’m the right fit.
The poor fucking girl. But I’m here now, and I’m going to save her. I still have a role to play, and it might get rough for her. But I’m going to make sure she gets through this.
And I’m going to make sure the rest of these sick bastards pay.
3
Riley
I wake up sweating like I do every morning, the nightmare still fresh in my mind.
It’s been the same every night for the past week. My father stands over me, his eyes glowing red, a belt in his hands. I beg him not to, I beg him, I cry and scream but he beats me anyway. He lashes me again and again until I feel the blood flowing down onto the ground.
I stare at the ceiling, my whole body aching, my head dizzy from hunger. The nightmare isn’t so much a dream as a memory, though he never took it that far. He never actually made me bleed.
But he loved that belt. If I ever did something inappropriate, he turned to that belt and he made me know how I had messed up.
I smiled ruefully to myself. Now I welcomed that belt. I would have preferred it to my present hell.
It’s been a week since the night at the club. At least, I think it has been. Time is fuzzy when you’re locked in a cell with nothing but a toilet, a mattress on the ground, and a single blanket. There’s a light on the ceiling that never turns off, and it drove me crazy that first few nights, but now it’s not so bad.
I don’t know what happened to Lacey. I woke up in the cell and I screamed and screamed until a man came and hurt me. He pinned me to the floor and told me that if I screamed again, he’d cut out my tongue. He smiled at me, this creepy smile, and I believed him. He was bald with broad shoulders, and I knew he could easily follow through with his promise.
I didn’t scream again. The bald man came every day in the morning and again in the evening with food, but it was never enough. I was always hungry. I drank water from a spigot above the toilet, and mercifully the toilet flushed.
This morning is different, though. I can’t really say exactly why as I roll over and sit up. Breakfast hasn’t arrived yet, which is strange. Normally the bald man wakes me up with food, but not today. Maybe it’s still early, or maybe they’re not feeding me anymore. Not knowing what time it is or what’s happening outside is maddening.
I don’t know why they took me. They haven’t told me a single thing yet. I asked the bald man on the second day what they wanted from me, but he just hit me across the face and then left. I didn’t get dinner that night. I learned not to ask questions.