Shackled by Blood

RUBY CARLISLE POV

Today is one of the most agonizing days of my life. It’s the exact date my mother died—the same day my freedom was stripped away and I was sold.

Cecilia, my stepsister, was still lost in dreamland while I ran myself ragged, juggling every household chore from top to bottom. I didn't dare put a foot wrong. My stepmother had a hair-trigger temper, and if I failed to meet her impossible standards, she'd have my head on a silver platter.

Once the dishes were spotless and the house gleamed from top to bottom, I trudged back to my room, every muscle in my body protesting with each step. I was utterly spent, too exhausted to slip into my nightclothes. I simply let myself fall onto the mattress, and within moments, oblivion swept me away.

I'd barely closed my eyes when my stepmother's piercing voice thundered through the house, yanking me from the brink of sleep.

“Ruby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I sprinted through the house with my heart lodged in my throat, my legs carrying me as fast as they could. I couldn't afford to waste even a single second. If I kept my stepmother waiting, she'd throw me out without batting an eye.

I descended the staircase in a hurry, only to be greeted by a sea of unfamiliar faces. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

"Ruby," she called, her lips twisting into a cruel, wicked smile. "These men are here to take you to a magnificent mansion." The satisfaction gleaming in her eyes made my stomach churn.

“Mom, I don’t want to go with them,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

She wasn’t my biological mother, but ever since my father married her, “Mom” was the name I had chosen to call her.

"They are your father’s friends, and you will be staying with them from now on," my stepmother said, a hint of satisfaction hidden in her voice.

"My dad..." I choked out, tears spilling down my cheeks. "My dad was always so protective that he wouldn’t even allow me to spend a night at my friends’ homes. So why would he willingly send me away to live with people he hardly knows?"

"Mom, seriously... these men look like they could devour me alive," I whispered, my eyes darting toward them. I wasn’t exaggerating—they were breathtakingly handsome, yet there was something intimidating about them that sent shivers down my spine.

"Does Dad know you're trading me away like I’m some possession?" I whispered, my throat tightening as the painful truth sank in.

“I couldn’t care less about what you or your father thinks,” my stepmother snapped, her voice devoid of any sympathy. “You’re leaving today… tonight.”

“Please…” My voice trembled as panic tightened its grip around my heart. “I swear I’ll do the dishes, clean the entire house, and handle every chore without uttering a single complaint. I’ll work double shifts, exhaust myself if I have to, and give you every cent I earn. Just please… don’t make me leave Dad.”

"Stop crying before I completely lose my temper," she warned, her eyes narrowing. "Get your bags together and prepare yourself. You’re leaving tonight."

“Oh, she won’t be needing any of those bags,” one of the man sneered. “Whatever she needs is already provided for.”

“No… no, please!” I sobbed, my heart sinking beneath the weight of fear. “I don’t want to go.”

“Please… just let me take my phone and my mother’s framed photograph,” I implored, my voice cracking under the weight of my grief.

"Two seconds," one of the men warned, his voice sharp enough to cut steel. "After that, I'm coming in to haul you out myself."

I sprinted upstairs, seized my phone and my mother’s framed photograph, kissed it as though it were the last piece of her I had left, then dashed back downstairs with my heart pounding against my ribs.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, my heart hammering violently against my ribs, each breath coming in ragged gasps.

“We’re wasting precious time. It’s time to leave,” one of the men declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

One of the man my stepmother had brazenly introduced as one of my father’s friends reached inside his coat and produced a thick wad of crisp dollar bills. Without a flicker of shame, he thrust the money into her waiting hands.

My stepmother’s face lit up like a child on Christmas morning as she greedily thumbed through the cash, her grin stretching from ear to ear.

In that instant, the horrifying truth hit me like a ton of bricks.

I wasn’t being sent away for my own good.

I had been sold—hook, line, and sinker.

"Mom..." The word caught in my throat as my blood ran cold. "Don't tell me you're selling me into prostitution," I said, my voice cracking beneath the crushing weight of disbelief. The mere thought turned my stomach and sent a chill racing down my spine.

"You ungrateful fool!" she sneered. "Haven't I bent over backward for you and your good-for-nothing father?"

I dug in my heels and fought tooth and nail, but my resistance was utterly futile. One of the men seized me with an iron grip and dragged me onto a waiting bus. Before I could make sense of what was happening, the doors slammed shut, and the vehicle peeled away, leaving my old life behind in a cloud of dust.