Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 482(@250wpm)___ 402(@300wpm)
She whimpers behind me and my body shudders at the sound of a sharp slap that cuts across her skin. She gasps and frets, desperately trying to hold it in until he finally moves away from her, walking back around the podium with his dark eyes coming back to mine. I look away, not wanting to look at him for a second longer than necessary, only he stops right in front of me and grips my chin, yanking it up and forcing my stare onto his.
I try to pull out of his grip but without my hands and with the column at my back, there’s nowhere for me to go. “Who’s your master?” he questions, his gaze glistening with excitement. “My bitch is a little worn out. We’ll see if we can make a little trade. I need someone with a little more … fire.”
I pull against his grip and shamelessly fail. “I’m not for sale,” I spit.
He laughs, finally releasing my chin. “We’ll see about that.”
His sickening stare lingers on me a moment longer before he finally walks away and steps down into the crowd, giving me a chance to breathe again. I close my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. Only when I feel that small sparkle of courage lighting up within me, I stretch my fingers back, desperately trying to reach the girl who shares my column.
My fingertips brush over her broken nail and I feel as she retracts, absolutely terrified. “It’s okay,” I tell her, turning into the column so she can hear me better. “I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Shayne.”
A moment passes before I feel her fingers reaching out for mine and I grip onto them as best I can. “I’m Jasmine,” she tells me, her tone so weak yet somehow so strong.
I squeeze her fingers and she grips onto mine just a little bit tighter. “He’s been hurting you, hasn’t he?”
I’m met with silence as she immediately understands the depth of my question. She knows I don’t mean getting roughed up by this psychopath. “Yes,” she finally says, her voice breaking, confirming my suspicions. “All the time. I just … I want it all to end. I just wish he’d put me out of my misery and kill me but he likes to see me broken … bleeding.”
Tears fill my eyes and I will them away, desperately wanting to be strong for her. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
Jasmine scoffs at my comments. “That’s nice of you,” she tells me. “But nothing can get me out of this. Look at us. We’re cuffed to a fucking pole with goddamn collars. The best thing you could do for me is to convince one of these pricks to put a bullet through my head.”
I shake my head. “You need to be strong, Jasmine. I promise, I will do everything that I can. My … masters,” I spit, “we have a different kind of relationship. They’ll help me.”
Jasmine lets out a heavy sigh and it’s clear that she thinks I’m full of shit. A moment passes before it becomes clear that she’s not going to respond, but that’s not good enough. I’m not going to allow her to give up. Hell, tonight is probably the only chance she’s ever going to get. “Tell me about yourself,” I prompt her, squeezing her fingers. “Do you have a family?”
A heavy sob comes from the opposite side of the column and it breaks my heart. “I have a newborn at home,” she tells me. “He’s only six weeks old and I … I’d do anything to be able to hold his little hand and feel the way his fingers would curl around mine. He’s … he’s perfect and I … I’m a fucking mess.”
“You’re not a mess, Jasmine. I promise, I’m going to help you get home to your little boy.”
“I don’t even know if he’s still alive,” she tells me. “The night … the night he took me. My husband was at work. He takes the night shift and my little man was in his bassinet. He was nearly due for a feed when that bastard busted in through my front door. I’ve never felt fear like that in my life. I ran into his room to get him but he caught me first … and my baby … he was just left there all night. He would have been so scared, wondering where his mommy was, but I wasn’t coming. Anything could have happened to him.”
“Babies are resilient,” I tell her, hoping that’s true. “He would have been okay, just a little bit hungry. He would have cried for a while and eventually settled himself back to sleep. His daddy would have come home and given him what he needed. They’re both okay, just waiting for—”