Page 120 of Servitude to Serpents

That was easy.

Too easy.

And I know it.

Everything in my body is telling me to stay inside, to call the cops—and tell them what?

I’ve been a human trafficker for ten years, and I think someone I sold off’s husband is scaring the fucking shit out of me.

My palms are slick, shaking as I hurry out the back door, into the alley. The back parking lot has never seemed further away. The phone with my family is tucked in my back pocket. Where can I go? I can’t go home; it’s not safe.

Where the fuck is Brady?

I’m going to be sick.

“Her name is Chloe, my wife.”

I try to scream, but the sound gets jerked through my throat wrong, making me choke. “I don’t know anyone named—”

“Really, I should thank you.”

What?

“It’s because of you and your friend Brady that I found my little pet. Bought her straight off the market. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He chuckles, a fond smile disrupting the cruel look on his face. “God, I am crazy about her.”

What the fuck is going on?

“You have Brady, my wife and daughter—”

“You remember her, right? My Chloe?”

Chloe…

“Fuck, man, I don’t-“

“Her last name was Tyson.”

I stop, my eyes widening on him, the darkness of the alley making him look far more threatening, if that was even possible. I gawk in horror, because Idoremember. I remember her fucked up eye; I remember the police after that. We had to halt operations for a few years.

I remember the reports after. She went frommissingtowanted.

Most wanted.

Traveling with a man,do not approach,armed and extremely dangerous, the works… “Thought you said your name was Bask-?”

He laughs, the sound making me take a step back. I can take him. He’s alone. That was fucking stupid. He could have a gun, though. “I have many names, countless ones. It's helpful in my line of work.”

“Yeah?” I try to sound casual, but my voice slips. “You a trader? I don’t know my contacts, if that’s what you’re after. I just dose them. They do pickup. Brady takes them first, though he didn’t…He didn’t with her. We-“

“No, I’m not a trader. Some would say I’m far,farworse.”

Then, he hits me, with what, I don’t know. His fist, maybe. It’s one of many hits, blinding pain soon giving way to darkness.

Pain.

It’s the only notable sensation when I wake.

Pain and then…cold. My head lulls where my chin was resting on my chest, spit and copper—bloodcovering my mouth andmore. My face is fucking throbbing.

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