ARIA'S POV
The window exploded inward.
Glass rained down on me as three men in black masks climbed through. I screamed and ran for the door, but rough hands grabbed my hair and yanked me backward.
"Going somewhere, little bride?" The man's breath smelled like cigarettes and alcohol.
I kicked and scratched. "Help! Someone help me!"
"Aria?" I heard my stepmother's voice from downstairs. Hope flared in my chest.
"Please! Call the police!" I screamed as loud as I could.
Her footsteps came closer. Then stopped outside my door.
"Take her quietly, please," she said through the wood. "We don't want the neighbors asking questions."
My heart shattered into a million pieces.
"You heard the lady," the man growled. He stuffed a cloth in my mouth. I bit down hard and tasted blood—his blood. He cursed and slapped me so hard I saw stars.
They dragged me down the stairs. I grabbed the railing, the wall, anything. My nails broke as they ripped me away. Through my tears, I saw my family standing in the living room. Watching.
Damian had his arm around Vivienne. Neither looked concerned.
Father stared at the floor.
Marco smiled and waved. "Bye, sis. Try not to embarrass the family name."
I tried to scream through the cloth. Tried to beg them with my eyes. Please. Please don't let them take me.
Stepmother opened the front door for them. "She's all yours."
They threw me into the back of the black car. My head hit the door frame and everything went dizzy. One man climbed in next to me while another drove. The third followed in a second car.
"Boss said to rough you up a little," the man next to me said. His fist connected with my stomach. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. Could only curl up as he hit me again and again.
"That's for biting me," he said, showing his bleeding hand. "And this—" Another punch. "—is for fun."
By the time the car stopped, my whole body was one giant bruise. Everything hurt. I tasted blood in my mouth. My ribs screamed with every breath.
They dragged me out. We were at a warehouse near the docks. It smelled like fish and rust. The building was old and falling apart.
Inside, more gang members sat around playing cards. They looked up when we entered and smiled. Those smiles made my skin crawl.
"Fresh meat for the boss," my attacker announced. The others laughed.
An older man stood up. His face was covered in scars. "The boss will come for her tomorrow night. He's got business to handle first." He walked over and grabbed my face, squeezing hard. "You better be worth three hundred thousand, girl."
I couldn't answer with the cloth in my mouth. Couldn't tell him I was worth nothing. That my own family threw me away like garbage.
"Put her in the alley out back," the scarred man ordered. "Let her think about her new life. If she tries to run—" He pulled out a knife. "We'll cut her pretty face. Then she'll only be good for the slave trade instead of marriage. Understand?"
I nodded quickly. Tears ran down my cheeks.
They dragged me through the warehouse and threw me into a dark alley behind the building. I hit the ground hard. Trash and broken glass cut into my hands.
"Stay here until tomorrow," one guard said. "We'll be watching. Run and you die. Scream and you die. Breathe wrong and you die."
They went back inside, but I could see their shadows by the door. Watching. Waiting for me to try something stupid.
I pulled the cloth from my mouth and gasped for air. My whole body shook. From fear. From cold. From pain.
I had to run. This was my only chance.
I tried to stand but my legs wouldn't work right. Everything hurt too much. I managed to crawl a few feet before falling again. My hands were bleeding. My ribs felt broken.
"Please," I whispered to no one. "Someone please help me."
But I knew the truth. No one was coming. No one ever came.
I was going to die here. Either the gang would kill me, or their boss would use me until I broke. Either way, I was dead.
A sound made me freeze.
Screaming. A boy's voice. Coming from the shadows deeper in the alley.
"No! Please! I won't tell anyone! I swear!"
Then different voices. Men laughing.
The sound of fists hitting flesh.
More screaming.
My body went numb. I knew that voice. It was him. The boy from my college. The one from the photo.
They had him. Right now. And they were killing him.
"Someone help!" the boy screamed. "Please! Anyone!"
I tried to move toward his voice. Tried to help. But my body wouldn't work. I could only lie there in the trash, listening to him beg for his life.
The same way I'd begged.
The same way no one had helped me.
I was lying three feet from where they were murdering an innocent boy, and I couldn't even stand up.
"Please," the boy sobbed. "I don't want to die. I'm only seventeen. Please."
The hitting sounds got worse. Louder. Wetter.
Then a new voice spoke. A voice that made my blood freeze in my veins.
"Make sure she hears everything," the voice said. "Let her know what happens to people who cross us. Let her hear what happens when you try to run."
They knew I was here.
This wasn't random.
They were killing this boy as a message.
For me.
The boy's screams got weaker. Quieter.
And I could do nothing but listen to him die.