Chapter 2

The main hall of Caleb's mansion was a spectacle of wealth and decay. Crystal glasses clinked, and shrill laughter echoed off the marble floors.

His "wives," a rotating collection of beautiful, cruel women, were gathered for their party. They were vultures, and I was the carcass they fed on.

I carried a heavy tray of champagne flutes, my arm throbbing with every step. My head was down, my eyes fixed on the floor. Looking at them was a mistake.

"Look, the little savage is here," one of them, a blonde with a surgically perfect face, sneered.

"Hurry up, girl. My glass is empty," another demanded, snapping her fingers.

I moved from woman to woman, filling their glasses, my hands shaking slightly. They wore expensive dresses and glittering jewels, their skin glowing with a youth that wasn't entirely their own. It was my youth. My life force, mixed into their lotions and creams.

Caleb stood by the fireplace, watching me. He held a glass of whiskey, his eyes cold and detached. He made me watch him with them, made me see him kiss them, touch them. It was part of the punishment. He wanted to break not just my body, but my spirit.

One of the wives, a redhead named Amber, deliberately stuck her foot out. I stumbled, and the tray went flying. Champagne and broken glass sprayed across the floor.

"You clumsy bitch!" she shrieked.

The room fell silent. All eyes were on me.

Caleb didn't move. He just watched, a flicker of something dark in his eyes.

"Clean it up," he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

I knelt, my knees pressing into the wet, sticky mess. I picked up the shards of glass one by one, my fingers trembling. A piece sliced my thumb, and a fresh drop of my own blood mixed with the spilled champagne.

The wives laughed. It was all a game to them.

Later that night, after I had scrubbed the floors and taken out the trash from their debauched party, Caleb called me to his study.

His newest wife, Scarlett, was there. She was a former pageant queen, younger and more manipulative than the others. She was his favorite. And she was pregnant.

"The doctor says Scarlett needs to be in perfect health," Caleb said, not looking at me. "For the baby."

He gestured to a cold, sterile-looking medical kit on his desk.

"He's going to take some of your bone marrow. He'll make a tonic from it. To ensure the baby's vitality."

Scarlett smiled, a slow, venomous curve of her lips. She placed a protective hand on her small, barely-there bump. "It's for my baby's health, Elena. You understand, don't you?"

I stared at the needle, long and terrifying. I understood perfectly. This was a new level of violation, a new depth of hell. I had nothing left to give but the very marrow of my bones, and he was going to take that too.