Virgin Bride(74)

“She’s good,” I say.

“Good?” He laughs. “Bitch shouldn’t be fucking good. Bitch should be on her knees, bloody and shit, you know what I mean?”

I force myself to smile at his disgusting joke. “Don’t worry, Anton. I find my methods are very effective.”

“Well. They say you’re very good.” He shrugs, exaggerating his movements. “How do you do it, anyway? You got some new torture we don’t know about?”

“Something like that,” I say, hedging.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You want to keep it a secret.” He laughs again, putting his arm around my shoulders. I want to break his wrist off. “Well, you have a good time, okay? Break that girl, do whatever you do, okay?”

“Of course,” I say.

“Okay then.” He releases me and walks away, heading in the direction the soldiers had gone.

I watch him disappear around the corner then release a breath. I feel disgusting, like I need a fucking shower. This whole place is infested with scum and spineless bastards but Anton is one of the worst.

I sigh and shake my head. Thousands of girls a year. That’s more than I thought. We were estimating six hundred, maybe seven, but a thousand? He must be sending some girls off to different countries if that’s the case. He could be lying, but I wasn’t so sure.

The compound is huge. He has the facilities to move that many girls. He has the infrastructure all over the place, too.

Rufus Nosek is right. His daughter is important, but she’s not the only girl that I’ll be saving by taking this place down. If only we can survive and get through this together, it’ll be worth it in the end.

I turn and go the other way, down a few halls, and into the kitchen. There I gather up a tray and put together a little dinner for Riley. Once it’s all set, I head out, skirting through the halls, and finally stopping outside of her cell.

I gently unlock it and open the door. Riley is lying on her bunk, clearly asleep. I place her food down on the floor next to her and then stand in the doorway, watching her.

I should wake her and make her eat, but I don’t have the heart to do it.

Let her sleep. Soon I’m going to have to push her training and start it for real. She deserves a little rest before we get started for real. Let her sleep and maybe have good dreams.

The next time I see her, I won’t be taking it easy. She’ll submit and she’ll break, or else I might not be able to keep her alive.





7





Riley





I wake up slowly, blinking until I come to consciousness. I can’t remember any dreams I had, but I’m sweating like I had a nightmare. The tiny window has light streaming in through it, and so I sit up and look around my cell.

On the ground next to me is a tray with some food on it. I reach down and touch a piece of bread, but it’s cold. I wonder who brought it and how I didn’t wake up when they came in. I pick up a glass of water and drink it down gratefully, surprised at how thirsty I am.

For some stupid reason, I was hoping that it was all a dream. I was hoping that I’d wake up to an empty bedroom, maybe a little hungover from drinking too much at the club. But it’s not a dream, not at all.

I’m a prisoner. And Logan wants to turn me into a sex slave. I don’t know what he wants to do with me after that, probably sell me to someone. I know that I have to resist, but I’m not sure how long I can hold out. He says he won’t hurt me, but I don’t know if I can trust him.

I’m not awake long before I hear someone outside of my cell. The door opens slowly and Logan steps into the room carrying another tray. He smiles at me.

“You’re awake,” he says.

I nod, watching him carefully. He sets the tray down next to the original one before picking that one up.

“This is cold,” he says. “Eat this.” He nods at the new tray before putting the original one outside the door. When he’s finished, he shuts the door and locks it.

I watch him, not moving. I glance down at the tray when he’s finished and I feel my stomach rumble. He sits down on the far end of my cot and nods at the food.

“Go ahead,” he says. “Eat.”

I shake my head.

He sighs. “Eat, Riley.” He picks up the tray and puts it on his lap. He takes a fork and spears some eggs, piling them onto a piece of toast, and then hands me the toast.

I take it and look at it. He nods encouragingly.

“Go ahead. Eat.”

I take a bite. It’s actually pretty delicious. Soon, despite myself, I eat the whole piece of toast, and then another, and then all the eggs, and finally two pieces of bacon.

He watches me as I eat, silently staring and judging. I wish I could know what he’s thinking, but I don’t ask him. I don’t want to engage with him any more than I have to.