Page 23 of Vicious King

“I guess I never was in your eyes,” I said softly.

Her shoulders relaxed, and she laughed. “Good point. You always were funny.”

I wasn’t joking, but I didn’t dare say that.

“Any questions?” Mellie’s brows rose.

“A few.”

“Well, you can ask me anything now. Within reason, of course.”

I sighed and looked down at the duvet, tracing the pattern of the golden thread woven throughout it. “You said we’re allowed to walk outside. Has anyone ever managed to escape the grounds?”

Mellie’s eyes glittered. “Already thinking of trying to escape, huh?” Her lips spread in a wide grin. “Like I said earlier, don’t even bother trying. But to answer your question: yes, actually, a few have escaped in the past.”

Blazing hope flared within me. So it was possible after all. I might not even need Elias on my side. “Really?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t betray my excitement.

She nodded. “Yup. Remember ages ago, when we were talking about that Roden Strangler urban myth? Someone mentioned that woman who was found in a forest, dead from a drug overdose. Way back in the eighties.”

“Yes.”

“My dad told me she was a captive here. But security wasn’t as good back then as it is now. She managed to get away through the forest. The guards eventually caught up to her, but after that, her master didn’t want her anymore. Neither did anyone else. Too much trouble. So they faked the drug overdose and left her body in a different forest. The one just out of New Marwick.”

I gulped. “I presume something similar happened to the others who escaped.”

“Yes. So you see how it would be a bad idea to even attempt it, right?” She arched one eyebrow. “I mean, a few have escaped, sure, but none of those few ever actually survived the escape. Not for long, anyway.”

I gritted my teeth. There was a first time for everything.

“Anyhow…” She waved her hand. “Anything else you want to know?”

“Yes, actually.” I frowned. “How many other women are here?”

“Probably around a hundred. Anywhere between five and twenty new girls are brought in each year.”

“What happens to them once they’re no longer wanted?”

“They work as maids, gardeners or kitchen staff here.”

So no longer sex slaves, just regular old slaves. What a bright future to look forward to….

“And you said all of them are captives, right? Like me,” I said.

“Yup.” Mellie cocked her head to the side, waiting for me to go on.

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth for a second. “When I saw that party yesterday, they all seemed happy. Like they were really enjoying it. How is that possible? Are they all just that…” I shook my head, searching for the right word. “Broken?”

She smiled. “Some of them are. But for the most part, no.”

“Then why would they enjoy any of it?”

“Drugs and alcohol. Sorry, I actually forgot to mention that earlier. There’s no rules about any of that. You can drink as much as you want, snort as much coke as you want, pop as many pills as you want. As long as you don’t overdose, of course. Lots of the girls here do it to cope. It makes them a lot happier and they wind up enjoying themselves at the parties. You can do it too.”

“I see,” I said stiffly. Hard pass.

“Sometimes the members even get their slaves injected with oxytocin. It’s a chemical that makes people feel all lovey-dovey. The same stuff that floods through brand new mothers to help them bond with their babies.”

“God, really?”

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