The nickname he once used for me turns my stomach, and my lips curl into a sneer as I watch him, unblinking.
I used to love that name—Beauty—thinking it meant I was special. Until I saw him having his dick sucked by one of the compound girls. I was there to pick up Jack after he drank himself unconscious, and I heard voices. That's when I saw them. It was wrong to stand and watch, forbidden, but I couldn't get my feet to move, so I stayed, hidden in the shadows. Watched as she fell to her knees as if serving a king, scrambled with his zip, before she leaned forward. The sounds of his growl and her moans echoed through the halls around me, and he threw his head back, pleasure covering his features. The sight made my stomach tighten; my breathing choppy. Then I heard him call out a name that froze me in place—my nickname. I held my breath, thinking he saw me. He hadn’t. He called her the name I innocently thought meant he cared about me, that I was special.
I rip my chin out of his grasp, baring my teeth. “Hayden would have gutted you for this!” I clench my fist, nails biting into my palm until I feel droplets of blood travelling down my wrists. A coldness appears over him at the mention of my older brother, his best friend…
Hayden died seven years ago, the day I left the compound and never returned. Not even Jack could get me back in that place. I was never a part of that world, just an outsider looking in, but that place still features in every nightmare. It was the last place I saw Malachi. He walked in the compound as one of them, with my brother’s blood still wet on his hands.
The day he became the enemy.
That day, I lost two men. My brother to a cold grave, and Malachi to his father's kingdom. He let the darkness he swore he hated to take over him, became the Dark Prince.
Malachi grabs me by the throat and shoves me into the wall, causing plasterboard to fall to the floor. Those black eyes penetrate me. His fingers tremble around my neck, and I know it’s because he wants to squeeze harder. It's the first time I truly fear him; I see the man who was born into the world of crime and violence. I know he sees my fear, senses it the same way a predator does his prey. As his lips stretch into a wolfish smirk, he squeezes my neck tighter, cutting off my airways, showing me he has the power to end me right here in this shithole of a flat, the same place he sat and played video games with me. He’s telling me none of that matters, that I’m nothing to him.
Malachi turns so fast, releasing my neck. I gasp, trying so hard to pull in the oxygen my lungs burn for that I don’t have time to process what's happening. That's when I see the smooth metal of the gun he had hidden pushed hard against my dad’s temple. So hard that a trickle of blood falls like a crimson tear.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, too terrified to even breathe or make the wrong move.
My heart stutters as he releases the safety catch, finger steady on the trigger.
“His payment will be paid!” With the gun to my father’s temple, he’s clearly telling me that if I don’t agree to his demands, he’s killing my father. He’s going to make me watch as he blows his brains across the tiny flat. Malachi knows what he is doing. He’s pulling the strings, and now he’s going to watch me dance.
His decision is unwavering. There is no remorse in his eyes as his finger draws back, hand completely steady.
He is a monster.
Shutting my eyes against the pain, a tear escapes. I’m mourning the man I used to know, my freedom, and the girl I know will be changed forever with my answer.
“Take me.”
2
Lilliana
One of the men escorts me out of the building, his grip tight enough that I know I will have bruises, but I don’t make a sound. Somewhere in the back of my head, I know I should be screaming, scratching like a hellcat, trying to get away before running and never looking back. Instead, I notice the graffiti on the walls of the apartment block, just like I did on the way up earlier, admiring the bright colours standing out against the grey stone. I take in how overgrown the garden is, how pretty the wildflowers look amongst its roughness, and a dog barking in the distance. All my senses are on high alert, waiting for the next thing to happen.
Just as we hit the bottom steps, two black Rolls Royces pull up. The men, still covered in Jack’s blood, all slide into one car. Run, now, an inner voice screams at me; the rational part of me. It knows it’s what I should be doing, but my feet are rooted to the spot, frozen in place.
“Lilliana.” His voice is like a slash against my skin. I look around one more time before sliding in next to him. The smell of leather surrounds me, and the seat vibrates as the roar of the engine starts up. I turn, watching as the place I grew up in disappears behind me, and the weight of what just happened settles in my stomach. My father gave me up to pay his debt. His own daughter. He just handed me over to the men that nearly killed him.
I try to even out my ragged breathing as irrational worry takes over clear thoughts, remembering this isn’t a TV series but reality. This is my life. I pinch myself just to make sure I haven’t fallen asleep after my double shift and that this isn’t just a nightmare. People in London didn’t sell their daughters for payments, did they? Yet, that’s what’s just happened. My chest tightens and my hands begin to tremble as I bring them to my lap, squeezing them together so no one else can witness the internal meltdown I’m having.
My breath gets trapped as we drive past the hospital, because I know I will never be able to go back to the job I worked so hard to get. A dream that I had made come true on my own, shedding blood, sweat and tears to achieve something for myself, so people like Hayden and his mum didn’t die. It was so easily snatched away from me.
I’m an agency nurse, so when I don’t turn up tomorrow, they won’t look for me or report me missing. They will just ring the office and ask for another nurse, replace me, without a backward glance or another thought. I always liked the freedom agency nursing gave me, going to different departments. I was never in one place long enough to make friends. A stab of something goes through me as I realise, I don’t have any true friends and never spoke with my neighbours. No one is going to miss me.
I make sure to keep the distance between us, pushing myself as close to the door as possible. I don’t want to touch any part of him. Still, his smell invades me; it’s heady, woody, with a hint of citrus, but there's also something hidden beneath. A smell that makes my body want to inch closer, though I refuse. It’s like muscle memories; my body still thinks of him as safe, though my mind knows the truth.
We travel into the heart of London and my senses become heightened to his every move; the rhythm of his breathing (slow and steady), fingers grazing over the phone. I feel his gaze on my face, tracing each of my features. He used to be able to read me, but time has changed both of us.
I’m not that naïve little girl anymore, the one who believed she would be saved, who had faith in a happily ever after. I might have just seen the edges of the violent kingdom he runs with his father, but I’m no longer hidden under the blanket of illusion. That was stolen from me the day my brother’s blood covered the streets, when he died in a pool of ruby.
Goosebumps cover my skin everywhere his eyes land. I turn my head to escape the feeling. It has always been there between us, a connection. I could never explain it, but I always knew when he was looking at me or if he was in the same room; like an electric storm, my body would buzz, fill me with life.