CHAPTER TWO

Brittney's Pov 

They dragged me out of the car before my feet could properly touch the ground.

My body jolted as they pulled me forward, my arms locked painfully behind me.

I tried to slow down, tried to resist, but it was useless. My strength meant nothing against theirs.

A door was opened and I was shoved inside.

The room was dark, the air inside was thick and heavy. Smoke hung low in the room, burning my throat before I even saw its source. My eyes watered as I struggled to focus.

A man sat in the center of the room.

He was ugly in a way that made my stomach twist. His face was rough and uneven, his eyes small and sharp, his mouth twisted around a cigarette. Smoke curled lazily from his lips as he stared at me like he was inspecting damaged goods.

Another man stood nearby.

He was just as ugly, maybe worse. Short and thick, with a grin that made my skin crawl. His eyes lit up the moment he saw me.

My heart started racing.

“Is this her?” the second man asked.

The one smoking didn’t answer immediately. He took a slow drag, and exhaled, then nodded. “That’s her.”

The man laughed and stepped closer.

Instinctively, I stepped back, but a hand pressed firmly between my shoulder blades, stopping me. My breath came out uneven as panic began to settle deep in my chest.

He reached out and touched my face.

I turned my head away sharply.

Pain exploded across my cheek.

The sound of the slap echoed in the room. My head snapped to the side, stars bursting behind my eyes. I tasted blood.

“Don’t turn away from me,” he said coldly.

My hands shook, but I forced myself to stay standing. Crying would only amuse them.

The man straightened and turned to the one smoking. “I will buy her.”

The words didn’t make sense at first.

Buy.

“I will pay any price,” he continued. "Let's use her to seal the contract between both of us.”

The man smoking smiled, clearly pleased with the deal. He leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. “She’s valuable,” he said. “You know that.”

“That’s why I want her.”

They spoke like I wasn’t there. Like I couldn’t hear them deciding my life in front of me.

“No,” I said suddenly, my voice trembling but loud enough to cut through the room. “You can’t...”

“Quiet,” one of the men behind me snapped.

I swallowed hard. “Please,” I tried again. “I’m not what you think. Just give me my phone. Let me call my parents. They will pay you. They will do anything.”

The man laughed. “Your parents?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. “They are wealthy. They will bail me out. I swear.”

The man smoking waved his hand dismissively. “Enough. I have agreed to the deal.”

My chest tightened painfully. “Please,” I whispered. “I’m begging you.”

No one looked at me.

The second man snapped his fingers. “Take her to the car.”

They grabbed me again.

I fought harder this time, panic flooding through my veins. “Please don’t do this,” I cried. “Please!”

They didn’t slow down.

They dragged me out of the room, my pleas echoing uselessly behind me. The door was shut, cutting off the smoke, the laughter, the finality of what had just happened.

I had just been sold.

The ride to his house passed in a blur.

I stared out the window, watching unfamiliar streets slide past, my mind screaming for a solution that wouldn’t come. Every second felt heavier than the last.

When we arrived at his house, I knew immediately this place wasn’t meant for freedom.

The gates were High and surrounded with armed guards. 

A cage dressed up as luxury. He walked ahead of me unbothered about me.

“This is where you will live as from now,” he said over his shoulder. “We will have a wedding party in three days.”

Three days.

The words crushed the air out of my lungs.

“I won’t,” I said, my voice barely audible.

He turned, his eyes cold. “You don’t have a choice.”

Something inside me broke.

They locked me in a room that night. It was large, clean, and terrifyingly quiet. I sat on the bed for hours, staring at the door and thinking of a way out.

When the house finally fell silent, I stood up and went to the door.

My heart hammered as I tested the door.

It opened.

Hope surged in me so fast it almost hurt.

I ran.

I didn’t get far before some hands grabbed me from behind, slamming me into the wall. Pain exploded through my body as they dragged me back, shouting, hitting, reminding me exactly where I stood.

When they were done, I lay on the floor, shaking, unable to cry anymore.

The next morning, they brought in a woman.

“She will be your maid,” one of the guards said. “She will report everything you want to the boss.”

The woman avoided my eyes. I nodded numbly.

Three days.

That number echoed in my head like a countdown I couldn’t stop.

That night, alone in the room, I pressed my face into the pillow and screamed silently.

I thought of my husband. Thought of his smile. Thought of how he promised to protect me. Anger burned through the grief for the first time.

If he were really dead, then he had abandoned me at the worst moment of my life.