Sold by Clarissa Wild

Harper

My eyes burst open, and I awake from my nightmarish sleep with a pounding headache. If you can even call it sleep. My brain is so buzzed, and I feel so out of it that I’m sure I must’ve been drugged.

Then everything floods back in again—the strip club, the Irish guys, Marcello … and the Russians taking me.

My body shivers as I try to sit up and look around. A fishy smell enters my nostrils, and the sound of waves crashing into something around me makes my eyebrows furrow.

Where the hell am I?

“Hey. You’re awake.”

I turn my head toward the voice. A girl sits a few feet away in the corner of this cramped white room. I try to brush the hair out of my eyes, but my hands jam halfway through moving. They’re stuck—tied in place to a metal support beam.

I panic and try to jerk myself free, but it’s no use.

“I tried the same thing when I first woke up. It doesn’t work,” she says. “They do it on purpose. To make us feel vulnerable.”

“Who? The Russians?” I mutter as I look around the room again. There’s a bunk bed next to the girl and a window on the other end of the room. Right next to it is a big door with a circular window in it.

“Yeah. They took us onto their boat,” she says, shifting in place.

That explains the waves.

“How long have I been here?” I ask.

“Couple of hours,” she answers, shrugging as she looks up at the window in the door. “It’s a guess. There’s no clock anywhere, and they won’t tell me anything when I ask.”

My mouth is dry as I try to swallow down the harsh news.

“You were at the club, too, right?” she asks. “I’m Melanie.”

I nod. She probably recognized me from her shift. However, another girl is sobbing in the back, in another corner of the room.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“I don’t know. She won’t tell me her name. She wasn’t one of the girls from the club. Maybe she was a client, who knows?” She makes a face. “She hasn’t said a word since we arrived, actually.”

“Oh …” I mutter.

The whole thing has frightened her into shock. I lick my dry lips again and look at the sink. It’s close to my side, so I try to get up, but it’s just out of reach.

“Fuck,” I gasp. “I’m so fucking thirsty.”

“They’ll be here soon,” she says. “I’d sit down if I were you.”

I frown and look at Melanie. “How do you know?”

“They came for another girl about an hour ago. Took her with them, and we haven’t seen her since.”

I gulp.

“That’s why she’s crying,” Melanie adds, nodding at the girl in the corner.

“What do you think they’re going to do with us?” I ask, hoping she might know more than I do.

She shakes and lowers her head. “I don’t know, but it can’t be anything good.”

The other girl suddenly covers her ears. “Stop, please! I can’t take it.”

We both look her way. “That’s the first time she’s said anything,” Melanie says. “It’s okay,” she coos. “It’s gonna be okay.” She tries to reach for the girl but is unable. They did it on purpose, I’m sure, to stop us from hugging each other and giving comfort where needed. Human contact would only make us stronger, and they don’t want that.

They want us weak and powerless.

To feel hopeless.

Because hopeless people make easy victims.

Suddenly, a face can be seen lurking behind the glass in the door, and I immediately inch back and hold my breath. The girl looks up and, in panic, screams.

The door unlocks and opens. A brutish man steps inside and throws a few bikinis on the floor.

“Shut up,” the guy barks at the girl in the corner. “Quit fucking crying.”

When she sees his gun, she swiftly closes her mouth, straining to keep the tears back.

“Good,” he growls. “Put these on.” He points at the bikinis.

Another guy steps inside the room and comes closer to us. I lean against the metal beam to get away. The man pays no attention as he unlocks the shackles around my wrists and tucks them in his pocket.

“Don’t fuckin’ make a move, or you’re dead,” the scary guy says, pointing a gun at my face.

The second fucker unlocks the shackles around Melanie’s wrists as well as the other girl’s, who wipes away her tears as she shakes violently.

“Get dressed,” the asshole reiterates.

I stare at the fabrics lying on the floor, wondering why and how. The guy is still here, staring at me. He can’t possibly—

“Want me to shoot off a finger?” he growls. He steps toward me and grabs me by my hair. “Which one do you want to lose?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it!” I say, holding up my hands.

He smirks. “Good.” Then he releases me from his grip, and I fall back to the floor on my knees.

Fuck. Guess we have no choice.

All of us grab one of the teeny tiny bikinis that barely look like they’ll fit. I quickly huddle back into my corner and take off my shirt. The guys keep watching us, one of them licking his lips while watching Melanie strip, and it makes me want to gouge his eyes out.

If I had a weapon, anything at all, I’d try to get us out of this fucking situation.

Unfortunately, these men know what they’re doing, and judging by their methods, they’ve dealt with tough girls like me before. They know exactly what to say and do to make this go as smooth as possible, which terrifies the shit out of me.

Because whatever is going to happen after I put this on cannot be good.

Still, I do what I’m told because I’d rather show a little skin than die here on this wretched boat. Maybe there will be an opportunity to fight back later.

They watch until we’re all undressed, and I swiftly put on the bikini as they look at the girl in the corner. It barely covers my nipples and pussy.

“Get up,” one of the men barks, using his gun as a sort of pointer. “Out.” He guides us out the door, forcing the crying girl to go first. It only makes her sob harder.

My heart feels like it’s beating a million times per minute as we’re pushed through a narrow metal-looking hallway, the floors underneath my feet creaking with every step. I’m dizzy from the constant swaying of the boat, but I have no time to get my bearings as the door at the end opens immediately.

A guy from the other side leans in and snarls at us, “Wait your fucking turn.” He snatches the first girl. She squeals. He slaps her across the face and drags her with him, slamming the door shut behind them.

What the fuck is going on? What are they going to do to her?

Oh my god, this is very bad.

This happened to the other girls, too, most likely. But where did they take them? And why?

No wonder the girl was crying. I’m about ready to do the same as fear and panic swirl in my chest.

I swallow hard, refusing to show my tears to these disgusting men.

If I’m going to die on this godforsaken boat, I’m at least going to go out with my pride intact.