“You never stood a chance,” I said.
Ollie waved his hand at one of his men. The next second, a woman near my age was dragged in. In fact, as I studied her more closely, that wasn’t the only similarity. She looked like me. Brown hair, same build, same eyes. She could have been my doppelgänger.
She was silent as she was dragged further into the room. I tried to get her to meet my eyes—the same eyes as mine—but she just stared at nothing. No light in her gaze; alive, but no longer living.
She was dressed in a purple silk dress, and my stomach rolled in dread. Ollie walked over to her, running his hands down her bare arms. He cast a look my way, then palmed her breasts.
“Stop,” I said, my heart breaking at the girl’s non-existent reaction, her lack of expression. How long had he been abusing her this way? Then I realised …
“You trafficked her,” I said, knowing it to be true. “You stole her.”
“I bought her,” he corrected and kissed her on the lips. She didn’t react. But that didn’t seem to matter to Ollie. He groaned as if she was kissing him in return, loving him back.
I bought her…
I closed my eyes and recalled Ronnie’s story. Ollie’s family’s business had tried to buy Ronnie too. They’d paralysed her father with debts that he would never be able to pay off and tried to take her as payment.
I bought her …
This woman’s parents, her husband … someone … they had sold her to save themselves. They’d thrown her to the wolves—to the biggest most vicious wolf of all.
Ollie turned until he was facing me, kissing the back of the girl’s neck. “You know,” he said and slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The dress fell to the floor; she was naked underneath. It was freezing, but she made no complaint, no move to keep herself warm.
“Your looks aren’t the only thing you have in common with her,” Ollie said, and the anger crashed inside me, bouncing off the walls of my skin like a pinball machine. Ollie dipped his finger between the woman’s legs. I turned my head away from the sight.
Ollie laughed, and I heard him step toward me. “Look at me, Cheska,” he said softly. I didn’t. I kept my head turned away. “I said look at me, bitch!” I whipped my head to him, eyes wide at the way he’d just spoken to me. He smiled lovingly. “That’s better.” He glanced back at the girl, who still stood staring out at nothing. “You have no idea how many of her there’s been.”
I stopped breathing.
“It takes me months to find them. They have to look just right.” His eyes took him far away, but then he hurtled back to earth, his fucking stare on me. “They look like you, speak like you.” Ollie leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I recoiled at his touch. He didn’t seem to notice—or care. “But they’re not you, Cheska. None of them ever measure up.” Ollie got to his feet and walked back to the girl. In one second he’d taken out his knife, and a second later he stabbed her straight through the heart.
The cool demeanour I had been trying to hold on to vanished. I screamed as the girl hit the floor. Her head hit the cement, splitting her skull. Blood poured out. And I saw it, saw the only bit of life I’d seen in her flash across her eyes as she took her last breath. Relief.
She wanted to die.
My gut squeezed. What had happened to her to make her want to die? To have no hope left in her broken heart?
“You killed her!” I snarled. “Why did you kill her?”
Ollie wiped his knife on one of his men’s coat and put it back in his suit jacket. “Why do I need her when I have you? Now I have the real thing. After all these years, I finally have you. No more pretenders.”
“You don’t have me,” I said, the words clear and loud. “You’ll never have me.”
Ollie flew at me, stopping only an inch from my face. Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. “And who does? Adley. Fucking Arthur Adley.” He laughed. “And you think me a demon? He’s a fucking monster.”
“He doesn’t traffic people,” I spat. Ollie shook his head, as if he was disappointed in me. No—as if he was sad on my behalf.
Ollie cupped my cheeks. I tried to pull away, but his hold was ironclad. And I hated it. I hated it because Arthur held me like this. He always held me like this. When he did, I felt wanted. I felt safe. I felt adored.
When Ollie did it, I felt violated.
“You poor, poor, naïve woman,” Ollie said, his tone as soft as if he were speaking to a toddler. “You have no idea of the evil that lives inside him. You haven’t seen the amount of darkness that lives in his soul. Aren’t you afraid of that darkness inside him?”