Chapter 4

At dusk the next day, the door of the lockup opened.

Jayden stood in the doorway.

"Up. Mr. Stephens wants to see the last batch of goods."

Two of the guards hauled me up and dragged me down the long corridor.

Passing the washroom, they wiped my face down carelessly and made me change back into yesterday's white dress.

Jayden looked at the half-shaved head and frowned.

"Keep her head down. No point letting anyone have to look at that."

The carved wooden door was pushed open.

The lavish room was full of people.

Finn Stephens sat in the very center, the cuffs of his black shirt turned up a little.

Three years, and the cold in his face had settled deeper than before.

Jayden waved a hand toward the door.

Two other girls and I were shoved into the room and forced to kneel in a row.

"Mr. Stephens, this is the last of them."

"Take your pick, anything you like."

Finn's gaze moved slowly across us and came to rest on me.

I kept my head down.

Half my hair shaved off, my cheek swollen and red, dried blood still on the hem of the dress.

When he said nothing for a long moment, Jayden tried again, feeling his way.

"This one had the best looks, honestly. Just doesn't listen. Made a scene trying to run last night, so the men downstairs had to teach her a lesson."

"That business on the shipping route a while back, that was us not knowing the rules."

"If you'll only let it go, anything on this ship you take a liking to, it's yours to take."

Finn tapped one finger lightly on the table.

"Who told you I take this kind of thing?"

"Filthy."

"Throw her out."

My whole body went rigid.

Jayden bent at once, smiling to smooth it over.

"If she's not to your taste, then never mind. I'll deal with it right away."

The guards yanked me up off the floor.

As they pulled me past Finn, I tried with everything I had to call his name, but my throat, dry and raw from a night locked up, gave out only a blurred scrap of breath.

"Finn—"

No one caught it.

In the struggle the cufflink slipped from my palm and rolled to the edge of Finn's shoe.

He bent and picked it up.

When he saw the stitched "S" on it, his hand stopped dead.

But the door had already closed behind me.

I was dragged to the end of the corridor.

A door opened. Inside sat several men, drunk out of their heads.

The guards shoved me forward and I clung to the doorframe with everything I had.

"Let go of me!"

Phineas leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette.

"Stop screaming. No one's saving you today."

They wrenched my arms up behind my back, and in the struggle the sleeve was torn open.

The inside of my wrist, that scar left three years ago, lay fully exposed under the light.

Just then a low voice came from the other end of the corridor.

"Wait."

Everyone went silent at once.

Finn stood at the end of the corridor, the black cufflink in his hand.

His gaze passed over all of them and landed on my wrist.

After a moment, he started toward me, one step at a time.

"Lift her face."