Page 1 of Filthy Devil

CHAPTER

ONE

JAMES

“Get the fuck in the truck.”The voice is deep, guttural, and scary as hell.

My natural instinct is to turn tail and run. This is not what I signed up for. Walking up the plank-like ramp, one foot in front of the other, I really feel like a lamb being led to slaughter. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I am.

And I signed on the dotted line.

I did this to myself.

Once we’re loaded, the door is closed and locked—I actually hear the handle lock into place. It’s like the final nail in the coffin. I’m left in a dark trailer, surrounded by women just like me—stupid,stupidwomen like me.

I’m not sure how long we’re on the road when the truck comes to a stop. The girls around me are all trembling, shaking more than anything. Their backs are pressed against the sides of the truck walls.

Their eyes are wide, and their cheeks are tearstained.

They look terrified.

But not me, and it’s not because I’m not horrified. I am. I’m scared to freaking death. But it’s because I knew this was a raw deal when I signed it. I did it anyway, and I’ve been mentally preparing myself for it for days.

I should have run far away when these people asked me if I wanted to get out of town. They offered me a deal—an arranged marriage kind of thing. It was like they knew I was vulnerable when they asked me to.

Vulnerable and panicked.

It’s like they knew I was in a bad place and took advantage. I’m not sure if it’s possible for them to have known, but in this world, anything is possible. I’ve been so lost since I found out the truth. Since my world was turned upside down.

I needed to get away from my entire life, and this seemed like the best way to do it. Now that the time is here, I’m wishing I had just packed my shit and walked out of town. I should have thrown caution to the wind and figured out something different for myself.

Hell, I could have worked at a bar or as a waitress, stayed in a hotel, something—anything. But I chose this? How freaking stupid am I? Maybe I deserve whatever is going to happen to me if I made this dumb of a choice. I think I just might.

Myparentswould have helped me, as long as I was willing to do whatever they wanted if I had asked them to. All three of us are stubborn as hell, though, and when I found out who they really were to me, the knock-down, drag-out fight we had was something we couldn’t just forget about.

Then, they tried to make demands about what I was going to do with my life and my future. They didn’t ask, they didn’t guide, they were demanding—authoritarian. My stubborn ass cut my nose off to spite my face, and here I am.

As I sit in this stupid truck, being transported somewhere unknown like cattle, I realize that my parents care about me. Butat the same time, they lied to me. They kept an entire part of my life from me. I knew something had been missing, yet I couldn’t put my finger on it. Now that I know what it is, I can’t trust them, and I’m not sure I can forget that.

They also insisted that I enroll in college or get the hell out of their home. That was the final straw. College isn’t for me. It never was. School has always been something that I did because it was a law, but the reality is that I’ve struggled since day one.

Now that I’m an adult, It’s not a law anymore. And now that I know who and what my biological parents are, it all makes a lot more sense. I’m an idiot who comes from idiotic assholes.

“I’m scared,” the girl next to me whimpers.

With a snort, I shake my head. “No shit, babe.”

“You don’t have to be a bitch,” she snaps.

Instead of snapping back at her, I roll my eyes and let my head fall back against the metal truck wall with a thud. She’s scared, everyone is, and everyone’s emotions are heightened. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but this is fucking scary, and I can’t hold her hand when I’m freaking out, too.

After inhaling through my nose, I slowly let the air out of my mouth. I’m not sure I’m going to find my way out of this situation. I’m pretty fucking certain I’m not going to have any kind of arranged marriage. I’m pretty sure I just sold myself into the sex trade.

When I least expect it, the back doors of the truck open. One of the girls cries out. However, I’m not sure why because it’s pitch black, so it’s not like she or anyone else can see anything.

Then I hear some men’s grunting and heavy footfalls right before three flashlights begin moving around the truck trailer. All the girls try to become one with the wall in an effort to get away from these men, but when I catch a glimpse of them, my chest squeezes. They look like the men who mysisterhangs out with.

They are wearing leather vests, tight T-shirts, jeans that are worn and fit their bodies to perfection, and boots. Big black boots. They walk heavily, too. These men don’t sneak around anywhere. They don’t have to. They are to be heard and seen and don’t give a shit about any of it.

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