"They took my daughter."
The hairs on my arms stand up and chills dig into my bones. "Your daughter? She was here?"
"Yes. We were both kidnapped."
"How old is she?"
More tears fall. "She turned four a few days after Santiago's men abducted us."
"What's her name?"
"Millie."
I stroke her hair. "That's a beautiful name."
"She must be so scared," she sobs.
I hug her tighter, not sure what I can say to comfort her, but feeling like another part of my heart is being torn.
The door flies open, and Santiago's thug saunters in. "You. Get ready." He hands me a razor.
I'm not sure what makes me do it, but I throw it at him. "Shave yourself. You don't own me."
"Zoe," Penelope quietly warns.
He grabs my throat and pushes me against the wall. His eyes flare with anger. "Pick it up and get ready. And the next time you want to talk back, you'll take the consequences." He releases me and slams the door.
I bend over, choking.
Penelope rushes over. "Are you okay?"
I inhale deeply, then straighten up. "I'm not shaving for Santiago or any of those pigs." Years ago, I had my bikini area lasered, but my legs and armpits have over ten days of hair growth and could use a good shave. Maybe the detox removed all common sense from me, but something about Santiago owning me like the Global Leaders have causes me to rebel. It's as if I can take back some control over my body, and nothing has ever seemed more important.
"Zoe, don't go against them."
"No. I'm done. They are going to do whatever they want anyway. Let them do it with my hair."
"Zoe—"
"No." I knock on the door, and Santiago's man opens it. "I'm not shaving for you or anyone."
He shakes his head and scowls. "Stupid, stupid, girl." He grabs my hair and yanks me through the house. I scream for him to release me, but he doesn't until I'm in front of Santiago.
"She's disobeying. Doesn't want to shave."
Santiago's eyes turn to slits. "You will be a lady in my company."
I should shut my mouth and do what he says. My insides are quivering in fear, yet I can't seem to give in to what he orders.
My eyes meet his, and the coldness that always fills me whenever I'm around Santiago makes me shudder. As firmly as I can, I tell him, "Whatever you want to do to me, do. I'm not shaving for you."
I expect him to hit me or harm me in some way, but he surprises me. He steps back, and a sinister smile appears. "You lump me with men who don't know control or honor. We don't rape women in my cartel."
"No?" It comes out raspy and not confident how I want it to.
The evil on his face deepens, and my stomach twists. "No. We wouldn't degrade ourselves with filth that Jonas Torres has defiled anyways."
Humiliation curses through my every cell. Against my will, tears escape. I quickly wipe my cheek, and Santiago steps so close to me, I smell his breath. "Disobedience is handled differently in my cartel."