Keeping My Captive by Angela Snyder
PROLOGUE
Aria Vitale
BLOOD RUSHES IN my ears as I huddle in the corner of the concrete cell. My teeth begin to chatter uncontrollably, and my jaw clenches painfully as another violent tremor takes over my body.
I’m cold. So cold.
The past several hours feel like a living, breathing nightmare. One that I cannot escape from. I keep willing myself to wake up, but to no avail. This is real. This is really happening to me.
I hear a woman whimpering loudly from the corner of the room, and my eyes snap up to meet hers. The last girl who made a commotion, who called out for help, was pulled from our little group and brutally assaulted. She was made to be a message to the rest of us — do what you’re told, and you won’t get hurt.
Slowly, I raise my tied wrists and hold a trembling finger to my lips, silently shushing the woman. She gives me a shaky nod in understanding before huddling into a ball on the concrete floor, self-soothing herself by softly humming an unfamiliar tune.
My eyes bounce from girl to girl in the room, taking in their faces and unique features. We couldn’t be more different, varying widely in age and race with a kaleidoscope of hair and eye colors. But we all have one thing in common — we’re all about to suffer the same terrible fate.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to block everything out, but instantly memories of him flood my mind. And, suddenly, it feels like all of the air in the room has been sucked out. Gasping for breath, I open my eyes and search the room for any sign of him.
Constantine Carbone.
Satan himself in an expensive Brioni suit.
He’s the reason I’m here right now. He stole me like a thief in the night, willingly handing me over to these criminals to sell my virginity to the highest bidder. Traveling by boat, then plane and then by vehicle, we finally ended up on what is simply known as The Island. I’ve only ever heard rumors about this place, but now I’m about to experience firsthand everything that happens here.
As I look around the room at the group of women, I can’t help but wonder where we’ll all end up after tonight. Who will ultimately own each one of us.
Bile rises in the back of my throat, but I quickly swallow it down. God, I can’t even think about it, let alone believe I can actually survive all of this.
Suddenly, the heavy, metal door flies open, causing my muscles to lock up in anticipation. One of the guards steps inside the room, holding an assault rifle in plain view with his finger resting precariously on the trigger. He’s tall and muscular and looks menacing in his military-style clothing with a black mask covering most of his face. “It’s time for the auction,” he announces, motioning with his gun for us to get up and walk out. “Stay quiet or die. Those are your only two options,” he says, pointedly looking at me.
I stand slowly, my entire body bruised and aching. All of us fall in line, our footsteps forced and slow, like animals being led to slaughter. It certainly feels that way at this point; because after we’re paraded around, we’re going to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
As we’re led down a dark hallway, I hear one of the other guards say, “Smile and look pretty, girls. It’s almost showtime.”
And, ever so slowly, my mouth stretches into a roguish grin. They want us to put on an act for those sick perverts? Well, then I’m going to give them one hell of a show.
