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His blue eyes are the last thing I see before everything goes black.

CHAPTER FOUR

BONES

HER EYES FALL shut, and I bend down, pick her up in my arms, and lay her on the leather couch. I turn to face a good friend of mine who lives in New York—Tristan Decker—who stands in the corner. “That worked fast,” I observe.

He nods. “Told you it would do the trick.” He walks over to her sleeping body and runs his hand over her bruised neck before looking back at me. “Playing a part?”

“Something like that.” I shove my hands through my hair. I’m not abusive toward women. Do I like rough sex? Yes. But I have never just hauled off and hit a woman or choked one who didn’t ask me to do it while we were fucking. I hate that I had to hurt her and make her fear me.

He slaps my shoulder. “Don’t get too worked up over it.” His eyes fall back down on her. “A pretty woman like her, she wouldn’t have lasted a week in someone’s cage.”

Tristan has seen the darkest side of this life—sex trafficking. He and his brother Avery know what it’s like for women to be used and thrown out with the trash when they no longer serve their purpose. Or when they weren’t able to survive what their owners put them through.

The door to Tristan’s study opens, and Nigel enters. “Sir, the jet is fueled and ready.”

“Thanks for the help,” I say to Tristan and reach out my hand.

He shakes it. “Call me anytime.”

I hope that I never have to call him again for a situation like this. I reach down and pick her limp body up in my arms and walk down the stairs and out the front door to the limo. Nigel opens the back door for me, and I slide in with her.

I go to set her on the long bench seat to my left, but instead, I keep her in my lap.

Eighteen years old

“Luca?” I call out for my friend once I enter the house. “Luca?” I drop my backpack in the grand foyer and climb the staircase to the right, looking for him.

He told me to meet him here after school because he needed to speak to me about something. I barge into his bedroom to find it empty. Closing the door, I pull my cell out of the pocket of my jeans and start reading a message I got from my usual fuck while continuing down the long hallway to the media room.

Emilee: My parents are gone for the night. Come over?

Me: Be there after practice.

I go to hit send just when I hear someone behind me. I spin around to see dark hair fly as someone turns down another hall.

“Hello?” I ask, pocketing my cell. “Luca?”

Getting met with silence, I walk back to where I thought I saw something. Turning the corner just in time to see a door shut at the very end of the hall. I make my way down to it. “Luca, this isn’t funny,” I growl.

Once I get to the door, I shove it open and come to a quick stop. A girl jumps back with a shriek.

Who the fuck is this? I ask myself, looking over her. She has her dark hair down and wears a white sundress. Her silvery-blue eyes are wide, and they immediately drop to look down at her bare feet.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask, taking a quick look around the room. It has white walls, beige carpet, and a white sleigh bed covered with pink satin. A tall dresser sits to the right, and that’s it. I’ve been in this house a million times but never in this room. “Who are you?” I ask, stepping farther into the space.

I’ve never seen her before. She looks younger than me. “I asked you a question,” I snap when she just stands there.

She jumps back but manages to look up at me with her big eyes. “No one,” answers her soft voice.

I run my hand down her tear-streaked face. Her bruises grow darker from that guy’s fist. My fingerprints are prominent on her delicate neck. I should have known then that she needed help. That something so fragile wouldn’t survive in hell. Closing my eyes, I sigh and hope that this works. Because as much as I want to help her, she isn’t mine to keep.

MIA

I OPEN MY heavy eyes to an unfamiliar room. It’s dark, letting me know it’s nighttime, but I can make out the bare white walls and matching marble floor from the light on the patio that streams through the see-through curtains covering the sliding glass doors. Placing my bare feet on the cold floor, I see that I’m still wearing the black dress.

Standing, the room sways a little, and I place my hand on the side of the bed to help keep me upright. My head pounds, and blood rushes in my ears.


Tags: Shantel Tessier Dark