Page 102 of Psyop Kings

Sold her to my brother?

That doesn’t make sense. Bastian wouldn’t buy a girlfriend. He’s handsome, rich, and heir to the biggest media conglomerate to ever exist. Women, for as long as I can remember, have worshipped him. My brother’s dated socialites, influencers, athletes, celebrities, pop artists, and even a model or two. The guy’s not hurting for a selection of girlfriends.

Suddenly he’s with Megan?

Plain, shy, small-town Megan.

My thoughts drift to Michael. On the outside, he’s successful, rich, and handsome. And that sicko paid over a million dollars to have Solomon bring him a made-to-order sex doll. Is that what Bastian did? Did he put in his order with the Crownes and get exactly what he wanted?

The questions keep piling up, but no answers come to mind. I know I could grill Caius, yet that would mean speaking to him, which I don’t want to do. What I want is to fall asleep for a long time and wake up in my dorm room, realizing this was all a dream.

I hear a click of a door shutting.

Did Caius leave?

After listening for a beat, I pull the covers off my head to search for him. He’s turned off the overhead light and only the desk light illuminates the space. His laptop and bag are gone. Off he went for another clandestine meeting.

Is he getting chummy with Ted again?

Maybe he’s blowing off some steam with Ava.

Worse, he could be enjoying a little after-dinner treat with Michael and Solomon.

My stomach churns, dinner not settling well as I think about poor LuLu.

I have to do something. Crying in bed over my brother’s involvement won’t solve anything, especially not for LuLu or the other girls.

Not crying is easier said than done, though. In my heart, I’d like to believe Megan will tell Bastian we spoke and then they’ll both feel bad for me. My brother will find out where I’m at and come pick me up. There will be some huge explanation for all of it.

A gnawing sensation in my gut tells me no one is coming to save me.

That means I need to pull on my big girl panties and figure out this situation. There are people here who need my help.

Caius is not that person.

I may be on my own.

The yacht slows its speed. I slide out of the bed, shakily making my way over to the window. It’s snowing like crazy outside, but beyond the flurries of snow, I can see lights in the distance.

Being this close to the window, I can feel the cold and it wraps its icy claws around me. Shivering, I cross my arms over my chest, hoping to bring some warmth to my body. Grabbing the blanket off the bed would be smart, but I don’t want to miss this.

Something is happening.

The shipping facility?

Are they doing the trade for the girls now?

I’m too late.

Frantically, I try to calculate how to help them. I’m severely outnumbered by evil people on a boat I’m unfamiliar with in the middle of a snowstorm on a lake I’ve never been on. How exactly do I plan to rescue four girls and myself before the yacht docks at the port?

Answer is, I can’t.

I’m a lot of things, but I’m not stupid.

It’s impossible.

Filled with despair, I watch as we approach the dock. Sure enough, colored shipping containers stacked as high as the eye can see become my view. The place is lit up with streetlamps and a big spotlight set high on one of the container stacks. A bundled-up man waits at the dock.

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