Page 13 of Chained

I'm going to lose it. I'm going to fucking lose it, and I don't think the chains will even hold me back. "You think that's helpful? She's a fucking child, and you're scaring her. You don't know what happens next. None of us do. So why don't you do us all a favour and shut your fucking mouth and wait."

The redhead lets out a shrieking laugh, and I can't stop myself. Every inch of me burns to hit something, anything. And unfortunately, it's about to be her.

"Amora, it's okay," Annabelle whispers against my chest. "I already know what they do to girls. I already know."

That breaks my heart in ways that could never be explained. She's a child, and yet she already knows. That's how doomed we are.

"I hope you're happy," I spit at the redhead. She wasn't worth the effort to talk to, let alone fight.

"I was just letting her know what comes next." She shakes her head before lowering to her knees. "I didn't mean to scare her⁠—"

I slump down onto my bum, my hand reaching out to grab Annabelle's.

"We don't know what happens next. Let's not talk about it." I swallow, lacing my fingers into Annabelle's. She turns, her bright blue eyes staring at me for answers, for reassurance that I can't give. So I smile and pray that's enough, even though it never will be. But she doesn't drop her gaze, words start edging to the tip of my tongue. I've got you, I want to promise her. I won't let go.

I look away fast, fixing my eyes onto the stone floor.

I can't do this, make a promise I'll never be able to keep—or worse, connect myself with someone else I'll let down.

So, I keep the promise buried, letting the silence fill the air. My eyes occasionally glance over at the other girls who sit, whispering. I hope they don't come. I know that sounds awful, even evil. But I know wherever that redhead goes, there's gonna be trouble, and we can't afford any more of that.

The silence doesn't last for long. The rumbling sound of an engine fills the air and a car pulls up outside, the sound of tyres against gravel unmistakable.

Whoever is about to buy us is finally here.

Chapter Seven

Ace

I stop the car just outside the warehouse doors, the white transit van waiting beside me. This isn't my first exchange with this sleazy guy—no, Vincent loves to send us to collect his girls, and I hate it every time.

"You waiting here? You'll need to drive the van back," I tell Jarrod. He doesn't answer straight away, he's too busy staring out the window, chewing on his thumbnail like he always does when he's nervous. I frown when he doesn't respond. "Hello? Am I talking to myself here?" I nudge him, but he shakes his head as I pull him from whatever was keeping him locked in his head.

"Oh yeah, sorry, sure. I'll wait here," he mumbles quietly before returning to the window. I know he hates this, too. He isn't like his siblings. He's got a heart of gold. Whilst Vincent and Melina love violence, Jarrod loves anything but. I feel bad for him—making him part of this. I've spent years building my relationship with him after Archie basically used me to bring him out of his shell. I don't complain now, but at the time—at a prime eight years old with that homemade, invisible barrier I'd created around myself—I'd had a fair few complaints to Adrian. Jarrod didn't speak, not until he was around nine or ten, anyway. I'd spend hours with him, trying to coax a word from his lips, but he'd just cry. It wasn't until I was on the verge of receiving the beating of my life for breaking Vincent's nose that Jarrod spoke, calling out my name and distracting Archie enough for me to hide behind Adrian. I never thanked him. A thought that always rubs me a little wrong. I should have.

"If I could do it alone, I would. I hope you know that." I clamp my hand against his shoulder, feeling him trembling beneath my palm. I sigh, pulling the keys from the ignition and sliding out of the car with my phone in hand. I text the fat prick to let him know I'm here, trying my best not to look around too much; the warehouse never changes. Every few months we're sent here to collect. Everything about this place makes me feel sick to my stomach. I know what's waiting back at the manor—the chains, the degradation—but here I am, still waiting around for some sick fuck to hand them over.

ACE

I've arrived.

I watch as the large warehouse shutter doors begin to slide up, the screech going through me as they near the top. The guy approaches, his fingers digging into the arm of one of the girls who doesn't even look up at me. His disgusting stomach overlaps his trousers, and the smell of him lingers before he even gets close. My eyes flicker from him to the girl. Fuck, she looks so young. Her blonde hair frames her soft face, eyes rimmed red from crying.

"Ace." He nods, a sick smile on his lips as he shoves the girl to me, her wrists bound by some shitty tape. She stumbles into me, every part of her shaking. Fuck, I hate this job.

"Vincent's warned you about the tape before, Derek." My voice is cold as I slip the penknife from my jacket pocket. I slice through it swiftly, trying desperately to ignore the urge to shove the knife deep into Derek's throat. I fucking hate him. His eyes leer over the small girl, lips parted. Sick cunt. There are no other words. I shift quickly, taking her arm into my hand, placing myself between them just enough that he can't see her anymore, and that's when she looks up at me—her expression lifeless, her eyes brimming with tears. I can see every plea, every flicker of hope in them as she stares at me.

It's almost like, for the shortest second, time freezes. Her eyes never leave. She doesn't blink, and neither do I.

I want to. I want to let you go. To save you. But I can't.

Derek's cough breaks the moment, and I'm thankful. Fuck, I don't know what I'd have done if it hadn't.

"Vincent doesn't scare me, lad. Never has. If he wants them in better condition, he can pay for it." He laughs, his voice rough as he hikes his trousers up higher. His laugh grates on me. I'd love nothing more than to bury my fist in his face, to see how much he'd laugh then—but I stop myself. He's Vincent's best supplier. I know the rules.

He clears his throat, phlegm hitting the back, and spits on the ground. He's fucking disgusting. He pulls a set of keys from his back pocket and tosses them at me. "You'll be needing these."

I catch them with my free hand and turn with the girl, my grip loose as we walk out of the warehouse. I spot Jarrod waiting by the van, his face crumpling when he sees the girl. She's a little blonde thing, tiny. She'll be broken fast, if she hasn't been already.