Chapter 3

Chapter 3

My sense of smell returned first.

Touch, taste, sound, sight, all remained dormant.

But the smell. How could I ignore the reek?

Stale sweat and the ammonia of piss. Musk, body odour, and garbage.

My stomach flopped, turning me into a pretzel of horror.

My lungs went on strike.

Adrian was back there—wherever there was, alone and in pain. Would I ever see him again?

Thoughts rammed like dodgems in my skull. My head was pounding with a nasty headache.

Fear, rank and cloying, crawled up my throat.

I didn’t know how long I’d been here.

Time didn’t exist in this place. The lightbulb above us flickered without rhythm, like it didn’t know

if it wanted to stay alive or give in to the darkness.

There were four of us now—girls, women, broken things. The one cried in her sleep, clutching

at her thin nightgown like it could protect her. It couldn’t. Nothing could.

I hadn’t said a word since I arrived. Not to them, not to myself. I didn’t even cry anymore. The

tears had dried up somewhere between the screaming and the silence.

Her name was Sada. The one with the loud sobs and dark, frightened eyes. She had a bruise

under her eye, fresh. They’d already touched her.

The other two girls were older—Mina, who paced the room like a caged tiger, and Lila, who sat

in the corner whispering to the wall. I didn’t ask what she told it. I didn’t want to know.

Mina looked at me tonight. Not past me—at me.

“You were the first,” she said, her voice raspy like she hadn’t used it in weeks. “The one they

bring others in front of.”

I blinked. I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how.

She stepped closer. Her voice softened. “He stares at you like he owns you.”

The image of Lucas’s eyes filled my mind. Dark. Hollow. Hungry.

“I don’t belong to him,” I said, but I didn’t believe it.

Mina smirked. “Doesn’t matter. You will.”

That night, the door opened.

We all froze. The light caught his silhouette—the tall one. Him.

I didn’t move as he walked past the others and stopped in front of me.

“Come,” he said.

I didn’t. My body trembled, but I stayed rooted to the spot.

Then he reached down—not to drag me, but to offer a hand.

“I want to show you something.”

I stood. Slowly. My bare feet kissed the cold concrete floor. My heart beat against my ribs like it

wanted out.

He led me out of the room. Down a hallway. Into another space I hadn’t seen before.

A chair. A cracked mirror. And a speaker wired to the wall.

“Sit,” he said.

I didn’t.

He pressed a button, and a voice crackled through the speaker. Familiar. Rotten. Dripping with

contempt.

My father.

“They say fathers protect their daughters.

They say a man would burn the world to keep his little girl safe.

They say a lot of things about fathers.”

The man beside me laughed softly. “Let me tell you what your father said before selling you off

for mere change.”

“But no one ever tells you how expensive daughters are.

No one tells you how their eyes start to look just like the mother that ruined you.

How their mouths form the same accusations.

How their love has limits. Conditions. Deadlines.”

My stomach turned.

“neveah was always the soft one. Too good. Too clean.

She thought love was something you got for free.

She thought running off with that spoiled man would keep her out of my reach.

As if I hadn’t built her bones from mine.

As if I didn’t carry her name in the filth of my mouth long before her boy toy kissed it with gold.

Ungrateful. That’s what she was.”

My knees gave out. I sank into the chair.

“He played this himself,” the man whispered. “Asked us to keep it on repeat.”

“And when the fire came—when that fine little house she thought little doc would protect her in

burned—

I didn’t see a tragedy.

I saw a second chance.”

“The call came in just after midnight. I was two drinks deep and half-asleep in a motel room

that stank of mold and bad memories.

‘They’re saying it was him,’ the voice said. ‘Daniel Snapped.’

I lit a cigarette, slow and calm. ‘Is she alive?’

‘For now.’

“People forget what chaos does. It confuses. It delays. It distracts.

While neighbors screamed and sirens flashed and Adam—poor, bleeding fool—was dragged

out of his own ashes,

no one noticed what was missing.”

“Her.

Neveah

She didn’t run.

She was taken.”

“And not by just anyone.

By the men who understand deals.

The kind who don’t ask questions as long as the price is right.

The kind who know how to keep a girl silent.”

“She begged for him,” they told me when they came back.

‘Adrian,’ she cried. ‘Adrian, please—’

He laughed again, a dry, rusted sound.

“That made me laugh.

Adam wasn’t coming. Not for her. Not anymore.

She thought she’d escaped me.

But what she never understood is that you don’t escape blood.

You can wash it off, rename it, bury it under silk and rings and promises. But it’s still there.

And mine?

Mine was poison.”

I stared at the mirror. My reflection blurred with tears.

He crouched beside me. Whispered into my hair.

“Now you know. He sold you himself in form of a marriage. No tricks. No threats. Just a deal. A

drink. And your name on the price tag.”

The tape crackled one final time.

“Now she’s someone else’s problem.

And me? I have a new place. Clean clothes. Whiskey in my glass.

My name whispered with fear in certain places.

All bought with her screams.

They say blood is sacred.

I say blood is currency.

And my daughter was rich.”

“Look,” he whispered behind me.

And there—a mirror.

Cracked. Dirty. But a mirror still.

I stared. I barely recognized the girl looking back at me. Gaunt cheeks. Hollow eyes. Hair

matted and tangled. And in the corner—him.

His hand touched my shoulder.

“You’re still beautiful,” he said. “Even now.”

I met his eyes in the reflection.

And for the first time, I spoke the truth out loud.

“I hate you.”

He didn’t flinch.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I don’t need you to love me. Not yet.