by Hart, Stella
“Maybe not,” he said, green eyes flat and emotionless. “But neither will you. Not ever again.”
4
Willow
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
Regret and shame threatened to swallow me up as I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened to me, and what was going to happen to me in a few days. What the rest of my life could’ve been like if I’d trusted Logan and stayed behind with him.
Memories flashed constantly in my mind, deepening my misery. Him, stroking my hair to comfort me in the middle of the night when the tears wouldn’t stop falling. His voice, the possessive tone of a king laying claim to his empire. His deep blue eyes, and the way they gleamed as they roamed my body along with his hands, stripping back every layer until I was laid bare for him. Me, warm and secure in his embrace, knowing no one could touch me or hurt me as long as I was with him.
That was all gone now.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
“Please, Logan,” I whispered into the cold darkness, wishing he could actually hear me. “Find me. Help me. I promise I’ll never leave you again.”
The only reply to that was the sound of the rain outside; a soft, steady patter against the roof.
I rolled over, closed my eyes, and sank back into my memories, torturing myself with images of my old life. My friends. College. White House balls and formal dinners. Ice cream and bowling in the underground alley with my brother.
That was all gone too, and it was never coming back.
When the sun finally rose outside, filling my room with blended tones of pink and gold, my door opened with a creak.
“Rise and shine, princess,” Jamie said, stepping inside.
I felt as if he’d wedged a cold sliver of glass between my ribs. “Don’t call me that,” I muttered, sitting up straight.
He smirked. “Why not? It suits you.”
I didn’t want to tell him it was Logan’s old nickname for me. If he knew that, he’d probably keep saying it just to torment me. “Fine. Call me whatever you want,” I muttered instead.
“You need to get out of bed. It’s time for breakfast.”
I stared at his empty hands, brows furrowing. “Where is it?”
“Downstairs,” he replied. “I don’t have the time or inclination to bring you every single meal like a servant, so you’ll be eating with the others from now on.”
I stood on shaky legs, weak and foggy from the lack of sleep. “What others?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“The people you saw yesterday. The ones in white.”
“You’re going to leave me with them?”
“They won’t bite.”
I shook my head. “No, I mean… aren’t you afraid of what I might say to them?”
He laughed. “You can say whatever the hell you want to them. It won’t change your situation. Or theirs.”
He snapped his fingers, signaling for me to hurry up. With a deep sigh, I followed him out of the room.
When we reached the ground floor, he led me into a large dining hall. A stainless steel serving station with plates, cutlery, and a vast selection of breakfast foods stood at one end. The rest of the space was taken up by rows of long hardwood tables with matching chairs spaced evenly along the sides.
Most of the seats were occupied by young men and women, all dressed in white. They were munching on hearty breakfasts and chattering excitedly amongst themselves. There were children of varying ages scattered throughout the room as well, and I even spotted a few babies in the arms of the older teens.
When Jamie and I stepped inside, everyone fell silent and turned to look at us. Their expressions were a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity.
Jamie put a hand on the small of my back and pushed me forward. “Get some food and find a seat somewhere,” he muttered. “I have some calls to make, but I’ll be back to get you in half an hour or so.”
With that, he strode away, leaving me on the edge of the hall with at least a hundred pairs of eyes on me.
I trudged over to the serving station and made myself a small plate of toast with peanut butter. Then I headed out to the main floor, cheeks burning as I awkwardly searched for a seat. I felt like I was in middle school all over again.
“Would you like to eat with us?”
I turned my head at the sound of the soft, lilting voice. A blonde girl was pointing to an empty chair beside her. She couldn’t be any older than sixteen or seventeen.
“Sure. Thank you,” I murmured, sliding my plate onto the table.
“What’s your name?” the blonde girl asked as I sat down, eyes wide with curiosity.
“I’m Willow.”
“What a beautiful name. I’m Eva.”
The others at the table introduced themselves in turn. They were all polite and friendly, and strangely, none of them seemed to have a clue who I was beyond the first name I’d given them.
I knew it seemed arrogant and presumptuous of me to assume that people would automatically recognize me when they saw me, but the simple fact was… they usually did. Photos of me were splashed across newspapers, websites, and TV screens on a near-daily basis, thanks to my mother, so I was used to being recognized and gossiped about wherever I went. It was weirdly disconcerting for me to walk into a room where no one seemed to have seen me or heard of me before.
“Where did you come from, Willow?” one of the other girls asked.
“The city.”
“Which city?”
I mentally slapped my palm against my forehead. Given that I had no idea where this mansion was located, my initial answer was stupidly vague. “Sorry. I’m from D.C.”
She smiled. “I’ve never heard of that, but I’m sure it’s lovely.”
“I meant Washington, D.C.,” I said, arching one eyebrow.
“Oh. Should I have heard of that before?”
“Well… it’s the capital,” I said slowly, unsure if she was kidding or not.
“Capital?” She tilted her head to one side. “What do you mean?”
I went silent for a moment, trying to figure out if she was serious. Given the nature of her questions, it seemed like she was screwing with me, but her tone and expression were perfectly earnest. She was either a very good actress or completely ignorant of the world around her.
“I mean it’s our capital city,” I finally said. “Most of the government is there.”
“Government?” She still looked deeply confused.
“Yes. Our country’s government.”
She nodded and smiled hesitantly. “Ah. The country is so nice. We’re very lucky to live out here,” she said. Her expression turned dreamy. “I hope one of the masters will let me explore the woods one day.”
My forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t mean the countryside. I meant country as in nation.”
Her smile faded as her gaze filled with confusion again. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to understand, but I’m not sure what you mean.”
I turned and looked at everyone else at the table. They seemed similarly befuddled.
“Are you messing with me?” I asked.
Eva frowned. “Messing with you? What does that mean?”
“Like… trying to trick me.”
“Why would we do that?”
“I don’t know. To mock me. Or as a joke, maybe?”
“Why would we want to mock you?” she asked.
“I really don’t know.”
“I… I don’t understand,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “Have we said or done something wrong?”
The others looked just as alarmed as Eva as they turned their gazes to me, awaiting my response.
“I’m sorry, I just….” I stopped short and took a deep breath before speaking up again. “Are you actually being serious? None of you have ever heard of Washington?”
“No,” they all said in unison.
“And you don’t know what I mean when I say country? Or government?”
“No.”
I lowered my voice. “Where do you think we are right now?”
“We’re home,” Eva said, lips turning up in a faint smile.
“Yes, but where is home?” I asked, sweeping a hand around the room. “Where exactly is this house located?”
Her face went blank again. “It’s just… here.”
I sighed with exasperation. This was like extracting teeth.
Another girl tentatively patted my hand. “I’m so sorry if we’ve offended you, Willow. We’re very happy to see a new face, and we wouldn’t dream of upsetting you on purpose.”
I gave her a tight smile. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m not trying to upset you either. I’m just trying to understand what’s happening here. Where did you all come from?”
“Right here. This is our home.”
“I mean before you were brought to the mansion. Where was your home before that?”
“Nowhere. We’ve all been here since we were babies,” Eva said, brows knitting.
A sudden coldness hit at my core. This place was starting to make a sick, twisted kind of sense to me now.
“So you were raised here?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Every single one of you?”
“That’s right.”
“Who raised you?”
“The masters and mistresses who come here. They help us and teach us everything we need to know, and when they aren’t here, the guards take care of us. Aren’t we lucky?”
The others nodded fervently as she spoke, and I swallowed hard. Holy shit. They all genuinely believed they were lucky to be here.
I leaned forward. “If you’ve lived here for so long, you must know your way around pretty well, right?” I said slowly.
Everyone nodded.
“Would any of you be able to tell me how to get out of here?” I asked.
Eva frowned. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I was brought here against my will, and I’m going to be auctioned off to a stranger in a few days.”
Eva clapped her hands together and grinned. “Oh, that’s what you meant! You’re so lucky!”
“Uhh… what?”
“You’re going to your new home!” she said. The others at the table looked equally excited. “I haven’t been so blessed yet. I’m not ready.”
I stared at her, eyes wide. This was even worse than I initially thought. “So the concept of being sold off sounds totally normal to you?”
She nodded, eyes feverishly bright. “You should be happy about it!” she replied. “We all love it here, of course, and it’s hard to imagine leaving our brothers and sisters, but being sent to serve just one master would be like a dream come true. You’re very fortunate that it’s happening so fast for you.”
I looked down at the table and gritted my teeth. Clearly, I wasn’t going to get any help from these people. They were completely brainwashed.
I picked up my toast and slowly chewed it, not knowing what to say anymore. The others started chattering about the food and the recent weather, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
Jamie came to fetch me about fifteen minutes later. “Say goodbye to your new friends,” he said, motioning for me to get up and follow him.
“We’ll see you later, Willow,” Eva said, flashing me a warm smile as I stood. “It was lovely to meet you.”
“You too,” I said flatly, pushing my chair in.
Jamie led me out of the room and back through the maze of halls on the ground floor. “Have an interesting chat?” he asked as he directed me down a stairwell to a dim basement level. No natural light could reach this far, so the way ahead was lit by flickering yellow bulbs in sconces on the gray walls.
“I guess you could call it interesting,” I said. “Although I’d probably use the term ‘fucked up’ instead.”
He smiled. “What makes you say that?”
“The kids and teenagers back there,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “They have no clue about the real world.”
“So?”
“So they’re the babies, aren’t they? The ones the Order buys from the parents who don’t want them?”
“Yes.”
“I always figured you probably sold them to rich couples who are desperate for children and can’t have any of their own,” I said. “But that’s not true, is it? You keep them here, train them, and eventually sell them off as sex slaves, don’t you?”
He patted me on the shoulder. “Look who’s using her brain again.”
“Well, excuse me for not immediately jumping to the conclusion that you’re running a black market sex slave auction house out here,” I snapped. “The majority of non-psychopaths like me would never even dream of—”
His hand cracked across my face in a slap as loud as a clap, snapping my head back with the force of the blow. I let out a startled gasp of pain and staggered backward, eyes watering as black dots covered my vision. I could feel his handprint blooming on my cheek already.
He smiled. “Oh, look. I finally figured out how to shut you up,” he said. Then he turned around again, his tall, powerful body casting an ominous shadow in the dim hall ahead. “Keep following me,” he called out.
He led me to the end of the hall and into a large windowless room lit by a singular bulb in the center of the low gray ceiling.
I could only describe the room as a cross between a bunker and a dungeon. On one side, there were three metal cages and several sets of ropes, chains, and manacles. Next to those were two medical tables with straps and stirrups. To the right, there were chairs, benches with drawers, and all sorts of strange contraptions; too many for me to take in with a single glance.
“Can you guess why I brought you down here?” Jamie asked, turning to me with one brow lifted.
I folded my arms. “I can only assume you’re going to try to break me like you broke the kids upstairs.”
He scoffed. “They haven’t been broken. There was nothing to break.”
“What?”
“They’ve been raised here from birth, remember?” he said. “That means they only learn what they need to, so they don’t know any better. They think everything they endure is perfectly normal. Most of them even look forward to it. That means there’s nothing to break. They’re the perfect slaves.”
“God, you’re fucking sick,” I hissed. That earned me another slap, this one even harder than the first.
I reeled back, clutching my face.
“We’re not sick,” Jamie said, glaring at me. “We’re just doing what’s necessary to fund the Order and all of its missions. Do you have any idea how much these girls and boys go for when their training is complete?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
“Tens of millions, usually. Last month we had a girl go for twenty-three million.”
“Did she get a single cent of it?”
“She wouldn’t even understand the concept of money.”
“She would if she learned about it.”
Jamie sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. “You have to understand, Willow—we’re helping these kids. We’re giving them a purpose.”
“Helping? Are you kidding me?” I sneered and shook his hand off. “You’re delusional. And you’re lucky that none of the parents have ever figured out what happens after you take their babies. You, Q, and the rest of the sick fucks involved in this scheme would rot in prison forever.”
He scoffed. “Believe me, they wouldn’t care. The babies were all unwanted. The parents were richly rewarded, too, so none of them would ever even try to turn us in,” he said. He cocked his head to the side. “You know Nancy Guilfoyle?”
I frowned. “The Education Secretary?”
“Yes. She’s one of them. We made her dreams come true in return for her baby.”
I slowly shook my head. “No way.”
“It’s true. She fell pregnant twenty-five years ago, when she was in grad school. She didn’t want it, but she was already five mont
hs along when she found out. Too late for an abortion. Somehow word got back to the Order about the unwanted pregnancy, and she was approached with an offer. She was all too happy to give up her baby when she found out what they could do for her future. She hid the pregnancy for the final four months, had the kid, and gave it straight to the society. In return, she was guaranteed the Secretary of Education job when she turned forty-five. The Order has the power to grant wishes like that, thanks to our members and the connections they have. Members like you.”
My upper lip curled in disgust. “Oh my god...”
“Nancy got everything she wanted in life in return for giving the Order something they wanted. The child in question never knew any better as she grew up, and she never will now that she’s owned by someone else. She—like all of the others here—was brought up to love pain and subservience,” he said with a smug grin. “So in the end, everyone got what they wanted, didn’t they?”
“You can try to justify it however you want,” I replied stiffly. “But it’s fucked up and you know it. You and the others involved in this are toxic scum.”
He sighed heavily. “Oh, Willow. This attitude is exactly why I brought you down here.”
He stepped closer, wrapping his fingers around my throat. My own fingers clawed at him, trying to escape his iron grip. “Let go,” I croaked, feeling all the blood rushing to my face as he lifted me up.
He smiled and threw me to the floor like a piece of trash. “In my opinion, the best masters don’t want docility in a slave. They want a challenge,” he said, staring down at me. “Given what Logan seems to have let you get away with in your time with him, I’m guessing he agrees with that notion and enjoyed your rebellious nature as much as I would if you were mine. However, the buyers who come here don’t want that. They want complete and utter submission.”
“I won’t submit to anyone,” I spat.
“You have to. Otherwise this bratty, stubborn attitude of yours could get you killed. That’s why you’re in this room,” he said, gesturing around us. “You need a crash course in true submission.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” I said indignantly. “I won’t do it.”
