Chapter 1 Three Gunshots

"You useless girl!"

"Aunt, please. That hurts," I held onto her wrist, trying to pry her off me from pulling off my hair.

"You're going with the men coming later. Or I'll give them Clyde instead. Your brother's a boy. He's more useful. They'll train him to beat people, maybe even kill. He'll grow up to be a criminal, all thanks to you."

"No! Please don't do that. He's just a kid," I begged. "I promised my parents I'd take care of him. I swore I'd raise him right."

I couldn't just stay silent. I had to fight back. If I didn't, my parents might just rise from their graves to curse me. Or worse, haunt me for abandoning our youngest.

"She's still arguing?" a new voice cut in. My heart dropped. It was my uncle. Lazy, useless, and jobless. Yet they expected me and Clyde to work for them.

"Where's Clyde?" Aunt Wilma snapped.

I turned from one to the other, my chest tightening. "What do you mean, where is he?"

I struggled harder, ignoring the burning in my scalp just to break free. When I finally did, I gasped. Strands of my hair were left in her hand.

"Where's my brother?" I demanded, this time staring straight at my uncle.

He grinned.

"I knew you'd act like this. So I already hid him somewhere you'll never find. But if you finally say yes... I'll go get him back."

I wanted to rip that smug smile right off his face. I didn't know how Aunt Wilma ever fell for a bastard like him. He wasn't even attractive. And yet, she was obsessed with him.

Good thing they never had kids. Knowing how strong their genes are, that poor child would've looked exactly like him. I'd seen his nieces and nephews. They all looked like trolls with the same disgusting attitude.

"Tell me where he is. Don't drag Clyde into your disgusting plans. He's just a child. He doesn't deserve this," I pleaded.

"Wow, listen to her," Aunt Wilma muttered, then suddenly slapped me so hard my face turned sideways. My eyes stung with tears.

"You ungrateful little witch!" my uncle shouted as he rushed at me and grabbed my hair too.

"Stop!" I cried. His grip was ten times worse. His hand was heavy and rough. He yanked my head back, and I could feel my neck twist just to follow the pull. My scalp felt like it was tearing.

I grabbed his hand with both of mine, trying to pry his fingers out of my hair, but he wouldn't let go.

"You don't get to talk back to us. Got it?" my uncle snapped, then slapped me... again and again.

My face was numb now. I couldn't even tell how many times his heavy palm had landed. And when he finally let go of my hair, I collapsed, dizzy and shaking.

"Look at her," my aunt laughed, "After everything we've done for you two, this is how you repay us?"

Then came the threat again. The one that made my blood turn ice cold.

"Listen close, Nevaeh. If you won't agree to pay off what I owe, that's fine. But don't blame me when I hand your little brother over instead. You can keep working for us while he's off doing God knows what. But you? You're old enough now. Pretty enough. Smooth skin, innocent face. The kind of girl men will fight over in a pleasure house."

He grinned at me with something disgusting in his eyes. Like he was enjoying imagining it.

"That's enough, Peter. Boss Damian's gonna be here soon. I told you not to hit her in the face, remember? If she's all bruised up, she'll be worth less!"

"Idiot," he muttered when he plopped onto the old couch like he just finished a shift at a real job. "She knows she can't do anything, but she still runs her mouth. Good thing you told her early before she got any dumber."

My aunt sat beside him and started massaging his shoulders like he was some war hero instead of a monster.

If glares could kill, they'd both be dead already.

But he was right. I didn't have a choice. Never did.

"Fix your face. I'm not in the mood to guess what you're thinking. Save the drama for your new boss. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for over there," my aunt said coldly from behind me.

***

NOW HERE I WAS, inside a car with a man named Damian. He hadn't said a word to me the entire ride. Didn't even look my way.

He sat in front beside the driver, while I was in the back seat alone. Another black car was following us. I felt like a politician's daughter being transported somewhere... except I knew I was being sold.

Eventually, the car turned into a large compound surrounded by towering concrete walls. It looked like the kind of place that didn't want anyone to see what happened inside.

I glanced around and realized we were in a huge garage. Off to the right, I saw the edge of a mansion. Massive, luxurious. I could only see the top floor from here, but it was enough to tell it was huge. I wondered how many rooms I'd have to scrub clean if they made me work as a maid.

"Stop staring. Get out and follow me," Damian said sharply.

I jumped a little at the sound of his voice but nodded quickly, hurrying after him. The driver and the other men stayed behind in the car. I didn't ask why. I just kept walking.

"Please, I'm begging you. I won't do it again."

I froze.

The voice came from inside the garage. As we stepped farther in, I saw a man on his knees, blood pouring from his face and soaking his shirt. He was a mess, beaten half to death. In front of him stood a man in a dark suit, tall, broad shoulders, hands wrapped in a bloodied white cloth.

Around them stood four more men, watching silently.

"No one double-crosses me. You know why?" the man in the suit asked. His voice was smooth. Beautiful even. But terrifying.

"P-please... I have a family. A wife. Kids. They... they need me," the man on his knees begged.

The man just tilted his head slightly.

"Then it's their bad luck that you're their father."

Then he turned to the man on his right and nodded.

Three gunshots cracked through the air.

The kneeling man dropped like a ragdoll.

I gasped. My body jerked on instinct, like the bullets had hit me too.

My eyes flew to the man in the suit.

He was staring straight at me now, brow furrowed. Cold. Curious.

He started walking toward me.

My breath caught in my throat.

Was he going to kill me too?