Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Young, beautiful, and at times, virgins. Young. Young.
“I know every corner and every hole in this place,” I say to Sloane, kneeling in front of her with my hands on her knees. “I will get you out.”
Tears prick the corner of her eyes as she wobbles to her feet. “What is this place?”
I take her hand in mine. “It’s an apartment complex right in the center of the city.” Because James was smart. He didn’t do his dealings in a dingy building. He took what everyone thought they knew about human trafficking and refined it, putting it right in the center of town, and right around the corner from the LAPD. They would never guess it. Smart or stupid, or a combination of both. I could never make up my mind, but one thing was for sure, James Doe was a tyrant.
Taking both of her hands in mine. “Listen to me very carefully, Sloane.” I can’t hear if someone is right outside the door or if they’re about to walk in. The walls are soundproof, no windows. Just a single-bedroom apartment fitted with everything you would find in any apartment. Nothing out of the ordinary. There’s a bed in the room, a dresser, a large TV, and some casual clothing. The room looks lived in, they all do, but they’re all not.
The purpose of The Complex is pure horror, despite the obvious lavishness. Things have changed. Trafficking doesn’t look the way it used to. These people have leveled up. They’re hiding behind normality, so no one sees anything out of the ordinary. It’s what makes it so much more dangerous now.
“What about you?” she asks, squeezing my hand.
The door opens behind me and James’ right-hand man steps through, his hands in his suit pocket.
“It’s time.” I smile at Sloane, hoping to ease some of her fear, but I feel like a fraud. I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I know is that I need to save her at all costs. She didn’t ask for this. To be here, mixed up in this world. She’s here because of me.
I turn, making sure to stand in front of Sloane and bring my eyes to Isaac. “How long have we been out?”
The first day I met Isaac, I was fifteen years old.
My thighs ached. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to get out of the car and enter this fucking house. I knew what awaited me, more torture. More cruelty. All he wanted to do was inflict pain through the gentlest way. Why? I wasn’t sure. Why he made it such an effort to make my life a living hell, I will never know. Was he punishing me, or someone else through me?
I wanted it to be over.
I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror of the car. He was unmasked, but I could only see his eyes. The dark way they shifted until they were set on me. Hard. Feral.
The man in the back seat with me interrupted my staring. “He will allow you out when you’re tasks are completed.” The car came to a stop outside a small-sized cottage about an hour away from where I lived, the man beside me opened the back door, pushing it open. I followed behind him submissively until I was out on the driveway. No other houses were around us, completely gated in by a high wired white fence and shrubs that offered further privacy.
“What’s your name?” I said to the man who was leading me through the front door of the cottage.
“Isaac.” He was around the age of James. Stronger, longer, thick shoulders and a military-style cut. I didn’t know much about what James did, but as every hour passed from when he first put his hands on me, I came to realize that whatever he did, it was evil, and to do evil, one must surround themselves with evil, so Isaac was a bad man.
Just like James.
Isaac continued to lead me down a long hallway. The home was vacant, with no furnishings inside of it, but it smelled fresh. Like bleach and another note I couldn’t quite figure out.
His hand came to a door handle where he squeezed gently, his gold Rolex catching the dim light that hung above our heads from a crystal chandelier.
He looked at me from over his shoulder. “Do what he says, Jade.” Then he pushed the door open and shoved me inside, where I fell to my knees. The door slammed closed behind me, my eyes flying around the room.
Dark bed. Black sheets. No window. The smell of bleach was potent enough to burn the hairs in my nostrils.
Someone stepped out from the shadow in the corner, his body wide, his jaw square. For a brief second, I thought he was beautiful until I realized I was looking at a corpse.