Page 18 of Broken Princess
“God, you’re fucking sick,” I hissed. That earned me another slap, this one even harder than the first.
I reeled back, clutching my face.
“We’re not sick,” Jamie said, glaring at me. “We’re just doing what’s necessary to fund the Order and all of its missions. Do you have any idea how much these girls and boys go for when their training is complete?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
“Tens of millions, usually. Last month we had a girl go for twenty-three million.”
“Did she get a single cent of it?”
“She wouldn’t even understand the concept of money.”
“She would if she learned about it.”
Jamie sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. “You have to understand, Willow—we’re helping these kids. We’re giving them a purpose.”
“Helping? Are you kidding me?” I sneered and shook his hand off. “You’re delusional. And you’re lucky that none of the parents have ever figured out what happens after you take their babies. You, Q, and the rest of the sick fucks involved in this scheme would rot in prison forever.”
He scoffed. “Believe me, they wouldn’t care. The babies were all unwanted. The parents were richly rewarded, too, so none of them would ever even try to turn us in,” he said. He cocked his head to the side. “You know Nancy Guilfoyle?”
I frowned. “The Education Secretary?”
“Yes. She’s one of them. We made her dreams come true in return for her baby.”
I slowly shook my head. “No way.”
“It’s true. She fell pregnant twenty-five years ago, when she was in grad school. She didn’t want it, but she was already five months along when she found out. Too late for an abortion. Somehow word got back to the Order about the unwanted pregnancy, and she was approached with an offer. She was all too happy to give up her baby when she found out what they could do for her future. She hid the pregnancy for the final four months, had the kid, and gave it straight to the society. In return, she was guaranteed the Secretary of Education job when she turned forty-five. The Order has the power to grant wishes like that, thanks to our members and the connections they have. Members like you.”
My upper lip curled in disgust. “Oh my god...”
“Nancy got everything she wanted in life in return for giving the Order something they wanted. The child in question never knew any better as she grew up, and she never will now that she’s owned by someone else. She—like all of the others here—was brought up to love pain and subservience,” he said with a smug grin. “So in the end, everyone got what they wanted, didn’t they?”
“You can try to justify it however you want,” I replied stiffly. “But it’s fucked up and you know it. You and the others involved in this are toxic scum.”
He sighed heavily. “Oh, Willow. This attitude is exactly why I brought you down here.”
He stepped closer, wrapping his fingers around my throat. My own fingers clawed at him, trying to escape his iron grip. “Let go,” I croaked, feeling all the blood rushing to my face as he lifted me up.
He smiled and threw me to the floor like a piece of trash. “In my opinion, the best masters don’t want docility in a slave. They want a challenge,” he said, staring down at me. “Given what Logan seems to have let you get away with in your time with him, I’m guessing he agrees with that notion and enjoyed your rebellious nature as much as I would if you were mine. However, the buyers who come here don’t want that. They want complete and utter submission.”
“I won’t submit to anyone,” I spat.
“You have to. Otherwise this bratty, stubborn attitude of yours could get you killed. That’s why you’re in this room,” he said, gesturing around us. “You need a crash course in true submission.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” I said indignantly. “I won’t do it.”
He let out another sigh. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to help you, Willow?”
“No, I can’t see that at all.”
“If we don’t show you how to behave up on that stage—and for your new master—you won't last long. The buyer will grow tired of you very fast, and if you aren’t killed, you’ll be returned to us. We don’t want to issue a hundred million dollar refund, and we don’t want to try and resell you after you’ve been used and abused and covered in scars. You’ll fetch a much lower price then, regardless of your identity.”
“It sounds like you’re helping yourselves, not me,” I said, glaring up at him.
“There’s no reason it can’t be both.”
“Well, you can do whatever you want to me,” I said flatly, getting back up. “You can make me scream and cry all you want, but I won’t break.”
