My head pounds like tiny people are rioting inside my skull. I keep still, slowly waking and getting my bearings without alerting our captors that I’m awake.
My head hurts like hell, but that’s the only thing that hurts. I know in the predicament that we’re in, the fact that only my head hurts is something to be grateful for.
Whatever I lie on moves up and down like rolling over a wave. Panic rears within me, realizing we’re on a boat. I try to calm myself down, remembering what Severyn said before we were taken: her team would know where we were, and they’ll get us.
My head clears some more, and I realize my father is in the room, talking.
“My daughter… now, there’s a fighter,” he says.
“Such a shame to waste a beautiful piece of ass like Sophie to the maze in the qualifying round or the cage fights,” a different man says. “I say we enter her in the with the rest of the sex slaves; that way, we can continue to make a profit off her as her owners for years.”
I think I’m going to be sick.
“We’ve already been over this, Salome,” my father snaps. “Sophie has the makings of a Champion. She looks soft and sweet, but under that pretty shell, she’s a viper, just like her papá.”
“Yes, your daughter,” Salome croons. “You promised me I’d get to break her in before we handed her over to the Collectors.”
My breath rattles in my collapsing chest with my rising panic.
“We’re on a tight schedule. I don’t know what Morales is doing, but it’s taking us fucking forever to reach the drop-off point. Plus, are the damn cell phones working yet?”
“I told you it’s like a jammer is blocking them,” Salome seethes. “Like Severyn Andrews’s uncle, who’s, you know, a fucking mogul in the tech industry, gave her something that would do that because our phones haven’t worked since we grabbed these two.”
“And I told you, Perez checked and scanned them both with the device. They have nothing on them that would be blocking the signals.”
Salome huffs. “Back to your daughter and my promise. The Collectors, Mortie’s minions,” my head swims with all the details they inadvertently reveal, “can wait a bit longer. I’ve been dreaming of Sophie for almost a year. And if you renege on your promise, Ortez, I’ll cut your arms off and toss you overboard and watch as the sharks feast on you. Maybe I’ll fuck your daughter over the rail while I do.
“Now, you can stay while I have my fun, and you can join in with the other bitch, or you can fuck off,” Salome warns. “Either way, I’m fucking your daughter in the next two minutes.”
A hand roughly grabs my breast and twists viciously, and I cry out in pain and horror that Salome is about to rape me. When my eyes fly open, his pock-scarred face sneers above me, and he licks his lips. “Such a pretty little whore. No wonder Creed Santoro wanted to keep you all for himself.”
My father regards me like I’m his cash cow; that’s his only concern. “Salome, back off; you can fuck her once I’m out of the room. I want to talk to my daughter.”
Yep, father of the year, right here, folks.
He stomps across the small room and opens the door. “Perez, tell Morales to go fucking faster. We’re going to be late for the drop-off.” He slams the door, spinning back to me, and points at the chair. “Sit, Sophie.”
I consider defying him, but Severyn lies motionless on a table, and I don’t want them to hurt her. She’s already in the middle of this because of me, so I obey.
“You make me proud, Sophie,” my father says with a malicious smile as I sit in the chair. “You bring me a friend, as well as yourself. And one that Perez tells me has some notoriety. She’ll catch a huge price for the death ring.”
A huge price… For the death ring, that has a qualifying maze, cage fights, and sex slaves.
Desperation lances through me, but I swallow back the horror and dread that wants to wash over me like a tidal wave. “Notoriety and fame mean importance; people will be looking for her,” I reason. “You’re taking a huge risk. Just let us go.”
He laughs. “We’re not worried about anyone finding her. We have technology to protect us.”
I hold on desperately again to Severyn’s words: My team will know where we are. They and Creed will come for us.
“Now, for you, dear daughter, you’re going to do anything to survive and win. But it’s not just about surviving; you need to impress the Shadow Ringmasters. Because if you do survive your qualifying trial but don’t please them, instead of going into the Champion stream—which, trust me, you want—you’ll be a sex slave to entertain the patrons. You’ll be a common whore who’s fucked repeatedly at one death event. You’ll be so quickly used,” he leans in close, his dead, cold eyes holding mine, “that you’ll wish for death. So, I strongly encourage you to fight as if your life depends on it because, believe me, it fucking does.”
“How can you do this?” I hate that my voice has a slight tremor. “You’re my father.”
He laughs again, harsher even than before. “We share blood, but money is thicker than blood.”
Anger explodes within me at this piece of shit I share blood with. “Your blood money with the cartel wasn’t enough?”
“I’m tired of being under Garcia’s thumb. And if you become our Champion, we’ll be like kings, untouchable.”
That’s why they risked coming for me while entering their cartel’s rival’s territory.
My father continues talking, but the roar in my head is too loud. Panic. Pain. Rage fills me, and only the last of his words filter in.
“… a membership spot… the Shadow Ringmasters and Mortie love that I’m giving my flesh and blood to the ring.”
“With you, Sophie, though.” Salome turns my head, so my hateful glare lands on him, and he runs his tongue over his stained teeth. “I’m seriously considering requesting you be put directly into the sex stream rather than the fighters. Then, as your owner, I can fuck you whenever I’m at the event location, plus I’ll get a cut for every pussy you eat, every cock you suck, and every hole you’re fucked in.”
I rear back from him and his horrible words, but still manage to hiss, as I feel a potent hate pour from my soul into my words. “Fuck you.”
He flashes a lecherous grin and grips my chin painfully, digging into a cut from one of the branches from when Severyn and I had run. He fists his hand to hit me, but his punch doesn’t land as my father pushes him away, but my father isn’t saving me. Instead, he backhands me, whipping my head to the side. I see stars, but I refuse to cry out or let the tears in my eyes fall.
When my vision clears, I see Severyn is awake, a murderous look on her face as she watches my father and Salome, who have their backs to her. Her eyes meet mine and she mouths, ‘soon.’
I’m coming, angel, hold on. It’s like Creed whispered into my ear.
Suddenly, the boat dies, and the men above start to shout.
“Perez!” my father shouts. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Go and see what the hell is going on,” Salome orders, unbuckling his belt. “It’s about time little Sophie met my cock.”
I shouldn’t be surprised, but the bottom of my world falls out when my father storms out of the room. I scramble out of the chair, trying to get away from Salome, his eyes promising a fate worse than death.
His fingers bite into my arm as he wrenches me back, and I scream as he slams me down on the table. I fight him as my life depends on it. But he’s stronger and intent on his purpose, and he rips the front of my shirt in half. I bite and claw at him as he tries to get my pants down.
My leg gets free. I try to kick him away, to create a small bit of space between us to escape his mauling and pawing hands that are intent on getting my pants down. But he catches my ankle and spreads my legs. I scream in a mix of terror and fury as he laughs like a demon straight from hell.
Suddenly, his attention is pulled from me, and he rears back and spins. Severyn is there and throat-punches him. His choking, gagging noise is music to my ears as I scramble back from him and wipe my tears.
Severyn has a knife—I have no idea where from—and she jumps back as Salome pulls a blade from his holster strapped across his chest and swings-slash-lunges at her. She steps back and is pinned against the counter. She doesn’t panic, though, and leans back to kick the knife out of Salome’s hand. Her first kick doesn’t accomplish that, but she whips her leg up again with a vicious snap, and the knife goes flying. He doesn’t hesitate and attacks her instantly.
I watch in fascinated terror as Severyn fights him like she was born doing hand-to-hand combat. They crash around the small room, grappling for the knife. I want to help her, but I don’t know how without getting in her way. I see the discarded knife across the room but can’t get to it because they’re fighting in the small space between.
Salome pins Severyn against the wall, one hand going for the knife, the other trying to gouge out her eye. He grips her wrist, twisting it viciously, and she has to go with the movement; otherwise, her wrist would snap. That’s enough to give him the advantage, and he wins the knife back.
Severyn doesn’t concede defeat, nor does she falter in her next attack. She grips his wrist, pushes it down, and twists them away from the wall, then she headbutts him like a total fucking badass. Adjusting her body as he staggers back, she grips both hands on his rigid arm and uses it as a fulcrum to swing herself up onto his shoulders, pulling his arm up as she goes.
Salome staggers backward, and they crash to the floor. Severyn flips forward so she isn’t pinned underneath him, and she lands on top of him. His eyes are wide as he lies there, stunned and unmoving.
At first, I think Salome is winded. Severyn pushes back and up, and my panic rushes forth when I see the exposed skin of her shoulders from her halter romper covered in blood.
“No,” I whisper, stumbling toward her.
But then, through my panicked shock, I see the embedded knife in Salome’s throat. I may be a horrible person, but a bubble of hysterical, relieved laughter wells within me.
Severyn looks shell-shocked that she’s killed him, and she looks at me.
She’s bloody and shaking. I’m shaking and clutching my shredded shirt together.
But we’re both okay…
For now.
She shakes her shock off and pats Salome down, looking for other weapons. We aren’t out of danger yet. She doesn’t find any other weapons on Salome, and I hurry forward, stepping over the thankfully dead son of a bitch, and grab the knife she kicked out of his hand. She pulls the other knife from Salome’s neck, making a sickening, wet, suctioned sound, and jumps back from the swell of blood.
She fists Salome’s knife and eyes the other one in my hand. “Swing and stab first, no questions.”
I nod. “What’s the plan?”
“We need to get to the floor above us. Stay close to me.”
Relief flutters through me as I realize her communication device is still intact, and she’s probably getting updates or directions from her team.
However, from the sound of the shouts and running above, there are a lot of bad guys up there.
“You… you’ve done this before?”
She eyes me. “Not this exact scenario, but yes.”
“Okay.” My voice shakes, and I lift my chin, channeling some of Severyn’s badassness. Trusting this songwriter-musician—who’s clearly so much more than that—with my life. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Shouts come from above as we exit the room, and I stay close behind Severyn as we cautiously climb the stairs.
She pauses at the top to check the deck for threats, then motions to me. We exit the stairwell and follow a curved walkway on the outside perimeter of the boat.
The night is silent and black as the stalled yacht bobs on the waves, and men continue to shout. A shudder runs through me when I hear my father snarling. If they catch us, we’ll be better off dead.
Swing and stab first, no questions.
I grip the knife tighter as we silently creep along to I-have-no-idea-where, but hopefully, Creed and Severyn’s team are waiting for us.
A large, illuminated window appears on the left, and Severyn stops. She crouches low, checking inside the room through the window. She stays low and motions for me to do the same as we quickly pass.
Up ahead, the passageway echoes with the sounds of someone running, but we can’t see who it is. We need to assume it’s the enemy, though.
Severyn pulls me along quickly, frantically looking for somewhere for us to hide. Finding an alcove, she shoves me in and then squeezes in with me, facing forward, her back to my front, ready to attack if needed.
I have no idea how a billionaire’s niece and a songwriter-musician could be this calm and have this level of training like a covert operative, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I’m not going to ask questions ever because it’s none of my business, and if she and her team help people like me, I’ll take this secret to my grave.
It’s unnerving not being able to see what’s happening and if there’s an imminent threat. This is made worse by Severyn’s body getting increasingly more rigid and ready as the running gets louder. I hold my breath, my body and muscles primed, and I’m ready to use my knife, but they run by us without stopping. Severyn’s stiffness eases slightly, and she steps out of the alcove.
But she sucks in sharply, then moves like a blurred shadow. By the time I step out behind her, she has Frederico Perez up against the wall with the blade against his throat and her hand over his mouth.
“You,” I gasp.
“You know him?” Severyn asks me without looking away from him.
“He… he’s a sicario like my father. Frederico Perez.”
He vehemently shakes his head, looking between Severyn and me.
“Are you trying to say you’re not part of the crew hunting Sophie?” she hisses. “That you’re not on this boat to deliver her and me to someone called the Collectors for some kind of fucked-up sex and death ring?”
Indecision wars over Severyn’s face, and I suspect Salome was her first kill. His death wasn’t a conscious, cold decision, though. If Severyn kills Perez now, she’ll be making that choice. But Perez is part of this plan to deliver us to a death ring, one that sounds elaborate and complex. If she lets him live, she’s risking both of our lives—both for him raising the alarm that we’ve escaped, as well as for coming after us in the future.
A noise behind me makes my heart jump, and I whirl.
Swing and stab first, no questions.
I do just that. A large shadow nimbly and quickly jumps back, grabbing my arm gently but firmly to push away my blade.
“Shit. Sophie, he’s with us!” Severyn whispers loudly.
Only then do I recognize him as one of the men on Severyn’s team whom I had seen enter Electric.
Two things happen nearly simultaneously.
Perez opens his mouth to shout as Severyn is distracted, and her blade has eased the pressure from his neck.
Rolf pushes between us and swiftly and violently snaps Perez’s neck. He’s already lowering Perez’s dead, limp body over the railing to reduce the sound of the splash by the time my mouth falls open in shock.
He turns back to us. “We have to move. Now.”
Severyn pivots on her heel and leads the way, with Rolf bringing up our rear. As we reach the back of the boat, Nexin, the blonde guy from Electric, comes running down the walkway on the other side of the yacht. “Get onto the boat. Now!” He points, and Severyn looks over the rail and pulls me with her.
There’s a tall blonde woman down below in a smaller boat, holding a gun, ready to protect us when we descend the ladder. Severyn pushes me to go first and I swing my leg over the rail and start down the ladder. As Severyn swings her leg over the rail to climb down after me, a male voice shouts, “Hey!”
Both her teammates curse, then Severyn is tossed over the rail. I watch, stunned, as she falls into the boat below but lands on her feet like a freaking ninja cat.
A bubble of laughter wells, but I swallow it as I hurry down the last part of the ladder.
“Are you okay?” Her eyes quickly scan me, and I nod.
Before I can ask her the same thing, the blonde woman curses as there’s more yelling from above. “Fucking hell.”
The boat sinks and bobs violently as a huge form lands on his feet beside me, and I realize Rolf has jumped from the yacht. He’s already moving to the captain’s seat, and the boat sinks again as Nexin lands in.
As soon as Nexin’s feet touch down, Rolf fires our boat up and hammers the throttle.
Nexin catches me as I stumble. He quickly sheathes a bloody knife, then nudges me to the floor. “Get down.”
At his words, gunfire starts as we speed away, and Severyn bends her body over mine before I can even process the threat.
The blonde woman has a device in her hand that she clicks but then shouts, “The detonator is faulty! It’s on you, team leader.”
The staccato of gunfire continues, but its sound is fading as we race away. There’s a booming sound—almost like a cannon firing—then an explosion. I peek out through a space between Severyn’s body and her arm and see the back part of the yacht is burning.
There’s another sound of the cannon firing, followed by a massive percussive blast. The moonlight is shining down almost like a spotlight on the yacht, which explodes, shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces.
Severyn falls heavily on me, and I’m worried she’s been hit until I realize she’s still protecting me, using her body to shield mine from the flying debris, some of which landed in our boat.
I squirm, trying to get free, and our eyes lock. “Thank you.”
She grins. “You did good, Demeanus.”
I choke a laugh, then look at the inferno spread across the water that is shrinking as we speed farther away.
No one on that yacht would’ve survived.
Good.
I shiver.
Nexin helps me to a seat as the adrenaline crash is nearly incapacitating my legs. I’m shaking from the drop in adrenaline, and the reality of what we were just rescued from. The cold rips through my shredded shirt, and Nexin places his jacket over my shoulders.
“You’re safe now, Sophie,” he reassures.
He turns his attention to Severyn when the blonde woman hunkers down before me, her cool blue eyes skating over me like she’s assessing for injury. “Your man—”
“Creed.” Intense fear makes it nearly impossible to get his name out; that he didn’t make it out alive from behind the club. I don’t think I’ll be able to survive if he didn’t.
“He’s waiting for you with Tag,” she reassures me.
She wraps a blanket around me, over Nexin’s jacket, and stays beside me. She doesn’t speak; she doesn’t tell me her name, but I suspect this is Len. She just stays close, like a sentinel, and I know I’m safe.
They saved us, me, from being delivered to a death ring.
My own father was going to sacrifice me to a life of hell, all for his own personal gain.
And these people had saved me with no hesitation, even when their own safety could have been compromised.
Creed had saved me. His family had saved me.
It was a group effort; I knew that. But if I hadn’t met Creed—if fate hadn’t intervened to give me the love of my life—I wouldn’t have stood a chance.
Trying not to break down, I focus on the life I’ve been given.
A life I deserve to live for me.
A life where I love and marry the man of my dreams even if my family can’t accept my choice.
A life where I vow to help others who need help.
Maybe not the same way this team has helped me and helps others, but there’s another way I can help. With Creed’s assistance, I can make my passion project a reality and help women and children break the horrific chains that bind them into a hell of domestic violence and poverty.
That’s the mark and legacy I want to leave on this world. Hope’s legacy.
Huddled in the jacket and blanket as Rolf drives us wherever we’re going, we start to slow after what feels like hours, but seconds at the same time.
I lift my head to see a black mass approaching. I realize it’s an island, after I can make out the dark form of trees. My eyes shift, and through the dim moonlight, I see two tall, broad forms racing toward the boat, running through the shallow water. One of them I’d recognize anywhere.
Creed.
He’s here. He’s okay.
I stand, and the blanket and jacket fall away, but I no longer feel the cold as he gets closer. “Creed.”
Then he’s there—beautiful, strong, and fierce—reaching into the boat, scooping me out, and crushing me to his chest. “I got you, angel. I got you.” He buries his face in my throat.
I clutch him because my life depends on him. I need him, always and forever.
His heart thunders under my cheek, and his warm, strong body has never felt so perfect and right. He holds me tight against him as he speaks to Severyn, Tag, and their team. “Your secrets, all of them, I’ll take to my grave. Whatever you ever need—any resources or in any way me or my family can help in the future—you only need to ask.”
Then he tilts my face to him, his piercing icy-blue eyes shining with devotion and love. “Marry me, angel,” he whispers. “Next week. Tomorrow. As soon as fucking possible.”
Yes. A thousand times yes.
A choked cry catches in my throat as I smile and collapse into him. I pull his mouth down to mine to answer with a promise to merge our souls for eternity.
