Wait for Me in the Alley

"Save your energy. Ain't nobody coming for you."The man speaking had a cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes raked over me once, then he tilted his head toward the guy beside him. "Decent enough. Send her to the estate. Couple days' training, then she works.""What estate? What work?" I clutched the strap of my backpack and took a step back."Quit playing dumb." He let out a scoff. "What do you think they do with girls like you?"My blood went cold.No wonder Nora had insisted on dragging me to Chicago. No wonder her boyfriend had been "conveniently" free to pick us up and drop us off the entire time. She'd sold me. For twenty thousand dollars."I'm not going to any estate. Let me go. I'll pay you—double—""Once you're through that door, you don't get to negotiate." He stubbed his cigarette out against the wall. "Either you behave and go work, or you take a beating first and then go work. Your pick."I backed up two steps until my spine hit the cold metal bed frame."Neither."Th

When I woke up, I had no idea how long I'd been out.Still in that same windowless closet. My entire body felt like it'd been taken apart and put back together wrong. Every breath came with a metallic scrape in my throat.But I heard voices outside.A woman's voice."How'd she end up like this?"I went rigid.I knew that voice.Nora.My friend. The one who'd sold me for twenty thousand dollars."Come on,Nora," the guy who'd beaten me said, his tone all sycophantic. "She wouldn't cooperate. Refused to work. And she had the nerve to say she's the Don's fiancée. Can you believe the audacity?"Nora kicked me."You? Don's girl? Keep dreaming."I lay there, too broken to curl up, too weak to do anything but take it."Why isn't she moving? She dead?""Nah. Still breathing.""Don't let her die. That'd be too easy." Nora's voice curled into a cold laugh. "Let her live. Work her to death in this shithole."I clenched my fists—nails digging into my palms—but I could barely even make a fist anymor

That afternoon, I was cornered by three men in the supermarket parking lot. One of them pressed a gun to my lower back and shoved me into a black van. They tied my hands and feet, wrapped a black cloth over my head. I heard one of them make a call: "Mr. Richardson, we've got Olivia Myers. South side, abandoned warehouse. Come alone."I was terrified. They threw me onto the concrete floor. Someone yanked off my hood, traced the tip of a knife along my collar. "Caleb's girl cleans up nice." I curled up and didn't dare move, repeating Caleb's words in my head—I can keep you safe.He came. Alone. In less than forty minutes.When the warehouse door kicked open, he was covered in blood, smoke still curling from his gun. He pulled me off the ground and put me behind him, then turned and put three more rounds into the men lying on the floor. Then he wrapped his jacket around me and drove back to the villa without a word—fast, the streetlights blurring into a single line outside the window.Tha

Caleb dealt with everyone involved. Everyone except Nora. She'd gotten wind of it somehow—disappeared from Chicago long before the sweep.After I recovered, Caleb started planning the wedding.He chose a private island in the Caribbean.He said he'd taken three years of my freedom—he'd spend the rest of his life making it up to me.The wedding day was perfect. I stood under the flower arch, the breeze lifting my veil. Seagulls drifted across the distant sea. Guests sat in white chairs, waiting for the ceremony to begin.The first shot—I thought it was a boat backfiring.The second one tore through the arch. White fabric shredded, drifting down like torn clouds. Guests screamed. Chairs overturned. The third shot came from the sea—a black speedboat was racing toward the beach, figures on deck with rifles aimed at us.Caleb came through the side door so fast I didn't even see him move. He tackled me to the ground, covered my body with his. His hand pressed against the back of my head, knuc