Page 92 of Savage Obsession

“So, then what?” Kris prompts her.

“I stayed there. There were supplies in the cupboards, a little food, water. I wanted to go home, to England, but I had no way of getting there. No money, no passport. Not even a phone to contact anyone.”

“You’re English?”

“Yes. I was… I was abducted and…”

“Trafficked?” he prompts.

Rosa nods. “Two years ago, I think. I lost track…”

“Okay. So, what happened after you got to the safe house?”

“After about a month, Adan showed up. He’d heard about the… the… deaths of his family and was on the island to assess the damage. And work out how to be avenged and get his territory back.”

“He told you that?”

“No. But I heard what he said to his men. They just ignored me, as though I wasn’t there. He couldn’t stay on the island then, because he was needed in Madrid. He had become head of the family, he had responsibilities, he said. He needed to secure his position, there were rivals…”

“What happened then?”

“He returned to Madrid to deal with… things. He took me with him, along with a handful of their men who had somehow survived the massacre.”

“So, you were his fuck toy?”

Rosa flushes but doesn’t look away. “I shared his bed, this is true, but he was nice to me. Kind. Not like Mateo and Alejandro. I was happy with Adan.”

“But you wanted to escape,” I blurt. “You asked me to help.”

“I miss my family. Yes, I want to go home, but… that doesn’t alter anything about Adan.”

“Doesn’t it? You were scared of him.”

“He is a powerful man. Ruthless. Or he was powerful…” Her eyes glisten. “Will you… will you let him live?”

“No.” Kris regards her, his gaze arctic. “So, how did you come to be with the Domingos in the first place?”

She sighs. “Because I was stupid.” Tears stream down her face, but no one offers her so much as a tissue.

“Right. Go on.” Kris is unmoved by the display of emotion.

“I ran away from home. There was a boyfriend, I was younger then. Idealistic. I thought we could…” She pauses, swipes her hand across her cheeks. “Anyway, I went to London. I earned a bit of cash busking. I’m a musician. A violinist, and I play some guitar. Or I was. I was abducted, from a pub in London. I’d gone there to play at a gig, a party, but it was just a ruse to get me there. I was drugged, in and out of it for days. Weeks, maybe. When the fog finally cleared, I was in America. I have a vague recollection of a ship, the hold. It was dark, and wet, there were other girls there.”

“Christ, how awful,” I gasp. “How did you survive?”

“Grim determination. I just wanted to go home, to live long enough to see my family again. So, I did what I had to do. There was… an auction.”

“An auction? Are you serious?” I can hardly believe what I’m hearing.

She nods, weeping quietly. “I was sold, to a biker gang. Their leader wanted some ‘entertainment’. I was it. I was locked in a shed most of the time, apart from when he…”

“He raped you?” I whisper.

She nods. “Again and again. I was his, he said, his toy. Just a thing to fuck. Or to beat, when he was that way inclined. Or to pass round his men.”

I reach for her hand. “Rosa…”

“His name was Salvatore Martelli. He was a bastard, through and through. I hated him, I wished him dead.”

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