Page 60 of Slaughter

That’s the guy I had tied up in my warehouse. The messages go on and on from someone named Alex. They’re sending them every fucking two minutes.

I go to her pictures and open them up. The first three are of her. She’s smiling under neon lights. You can tell she’s drunk as her eyes stare blankly into the camera. A man stands beside her with his arm over her shoulders. In the next, he is leaning in, kissing her cheek while she looks up at the ceiling. The next is of her tits. Her bare tits. My jaw tightens. Who the fuck did she send this to?

The next is her lying on her back in a bed. I don’t recognize it to be the one at her house. Her tongue is on her lip, eyes closed, and she’s naked. Someone else took it because they’re standing at the end of the bed while she lies on it. Her legs are closed, hiding her pussy, but you can see everything else while they stand over her.

I slam her phone down onto my desk.

What happened to her? When did she become such a fucking slut? And even now, even though she hates me, she was begging me to fuck her. That she needed to come. Maybe she’s a sex addict. Possibly an alcoholic as well.

She’s gonna hate me, but I’m gonna cure her of both of those things if that’s the case. I turn off her cell and place it back in my drawer before I stand and walk out of my study. I have work to do.

PRESLEIGH

I sit on my bed; my momma sits behind me, brushing my hair. “Momma?” I break the silence.

“Hmm?” she asks.

“I …” I bite my bottom lip nervously.

“What is it, honey?”

Knotting my hands in my lap, I look down at them and close my eyes. “I heard a woman screaming.” The brush stops running through my hair. “It was late last night.” Silence fills the room, and my heart starts to pound. “I thought I was sleeping …” I ramble on. “But then I heard it again. It sounded like she was just down the hall. I left my room …”

She jumps off the bed and comes to stand in front of me. Her blue eyes are narrowed down at me, and my breath catches. “Where did you go?”

“I … uh …”

“Where?” she demands.

“I just wanted to help her,” I say, and my eyes start to sting with unshed tears.

She lets out a long breath and kneels in front of me. Both hands go to my face, and her eyes soften. “Those women don’t need help, honey.”

“I don’t understand. She was crying. Screaming for help. The closer I got, the more I heard—”

“No, Presleigh!” she interrupts me. Her hands fall from my face, and she runs one through her blond hair. “Some women were made to serve, darling.”

I frown. “Serve who?”

“Whoever wants them,” she answers simply. Giving me a soft smile, she adds, “Women need to know their place in this world. Some are meant to be loved. And some are meant to be used.”

“Avery loves me,” I blurt out.

She chuckles. “You’re only twelve, dear. You nor Avery know what love is.”

“I love Avery,” I tell her softly.

She lets out a long breath. “You were not meant for Avery, Presleigh. The sooner you realize that, the easier it will be on you.”

I open my heavy eyes and try to remember what she meant by that. I never figured it out, and she never told me. We never spoke about Avery in that way again. She knew how I felt but refused to acknowledge it. To her, he was too good for me. He was going to be a God who would one day carry on our family’s business—selling little girls and women. And I never heard another woman scream out for help. But it only took me two more years to understand what my father did to make that woman scream. And I wished more than ever at that point that I would have tried harder to save her.

My eyes flutter open at the sound of my door. I don’t know how I managed it, but I actually fell asleep last night. Exhaustion took over. Plus, whatever they shot into my neck has me sleeping more than usual.

“Good morning, Bunny,” Avery says happily.

I say nothing.

“Still mad at me, I see.”

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