The small window on the other side of the room showed streaks of pinks and grays against the portion of the skyline that Jenna could see. She wasn’t sure how many hours had passed, but the sun was setting, so she figured it must be nearly seven. She had fallen into a fitful sleep, waking after yet another dream of men with ropes and knives chasing her through brightly colored stalls. No one would look at her, no matter how much she screamed and ran. Every corner she turned, there was always a man dressed entirely in black, stalking her, hunting her.

She wiped her face with her shirt, caked with dirt and sweat and tears. She could feel how filthy she was, and she winced as she checked the rope burns on her wrists.

What she really wanted was a glass of water and something to eat. It had been hours since she had eaten anything. She couldn’t remember the last time she had gone so long without food.

Jenna pulled herself to her feet and looked around the room again. She felt groggy, and was irritated that her thoughts were clouded.

Have I been drugged?

She shook her head.

No, just exhausted. I need…I need to get out of here.

She looked around her cell, which was composed entirely of iron bars with nothing but a big padlock on the front. The room beyond contained little else. A small desk, a stainless steel filing cabinet, and the awful, glaring fluorescent light overhead.

Jenna sighed, exasperated. There was no way she was breaking her way through that lock, and the cell itself went all the way to the ceiling, so there was no climbing over and out. She was convinced that no one in the world could be skinny enough to slide between the bars.

Scratching her scalp in frustration, her fingers caught on one of the bobby pins that she had fixed her braid with that morning. Her breathing slowed as she slowly pulled it out of her hair, gazing at the tiny black item.

Looking over at the padlock, she chewed on her lip.

This works in the movies…what about in real life?

Without waiting for an answer, she reached through the bars and moved the lock in a way where she could see it as well as access it with her other hand. It was painful, but she reached her other hand with the pin through the bars and fit the thin wire into the hole.

She wiggled it around inside the lock, listening for something, though she didn’t know exactly what. She knew it was supposed to push the tumblers around somehow, but she had never done anything like this before.

And what was she going to do if she succeeded in getting out? Surely there would be guards, and even if she did somehow miraculously find a way to get out of…wherever she was, how in the world was she supposed to get back to her hostel?

She continued to push and prod the little pin into the lock, hoping and hoping that she would see it magically spring open. Each passing second made her more and more anxious, and when she heard a doorknob turn, she yanked the pin out, let the lock swing with a loud crack against the iron bars, and threw herself onto the bench.

The small woman from before appeared just as Jenna was sliding the pin back into her hair. The woman glanced down at the lock, still swinging, and raised a single eyebrow.

Oh no, now you’ve gone and done it, Jenna thought grimly.

The woman pulled a key out of the pocket of her dress and slid it into the lock. Jenna barely dared to breathe as the woman opened the door and stepped into Jenna’s cell.

“Come,” she said, and it took Jenna a moment to realize that she had not spoken in English.

Jenna blinked up at her.

“Come,” the woman repeated in Arabic, a little more forcefully this time. She reached down and grabbed Jenna by the arm, pulling her to her feet. She pulled her out of the cage, and Jenna was so shocked that she didn’t try to pull away.

The woman’s grip was like a vice on her arm, almost painful. There was another guard waiting in the hall, but Jenna was only slightly relieved that he didn’t look like the men who had kidnapped her the day before. He had dark hair that was balding and a closely trimmed beard. He glared down at her, and the woman passed Jenna to him.

Who is this guy? What is he—

He turned her around and tied her arms behind her back again before grabbing her arm, just as the woman had, and steering her down a narrow, dilapidated hallway. Jenna was turned around a corner, her mind racing again, feeling a nausea filling her, before she was lead out into the rapidly cooling air.

She took a deep breath, glad that she was able to see the sky once more. Part of her had wondered if she ever would again. The relief didn’t last long, as she was shoved into the backseat of a black car, the door slammed shut behind her.

The man who had brought her outside slid into the seat beside her, not even sparing her a glance. There was a driver in the front, another dark-haired male, and she wondered if either of them actually were her captors from the bazaar. They had been wearing masks, after all, so how would she know?

The man in the backseat said something to the man in the front, but Jenna didn’t understand what.

She felt like she was being subjected to an acute form of torture as they drove through the city, and she could see it all, just out of her reach. It wasn’t fair, and she felt as if she might throw up. Part of her thought it might be worthwhile, just to show them how much she despised them, but then she wondered what they might do to her in response, and that thought scared her more than she wanted to admit.

They weren’t driving for long before the buildings became smaller, less on top of one another, and there was a long stretch of road with nothing but a barren landscape beyond.

The car pulled up to a lofty mansion, with lights and large windows and gaudy statues out front. There was a bubbling fountain with a large stone basin. Jenna didn’t have much time to admire the setting, though, before she was whisked to a door and down a flight of stairs beside the house, into what she assumed was a basement.

The atmosphere in the room through the door was entirely different than what she was expecting. There was a group of women, all immaculately dressed in dresses of silk and tulle, with bright colors and pinned hair and jewelry. There was laughter and music and tastefully draped swags of fabric.

Jenna wondered if she had stepped into a totally different sort of nightmare.

One of the women greeted her at the door, throwing an arm around her shoulders, and as soon as the door was closed, she had the ropes taken from Jenna’s hands.

Jenna looked around in shock as she rubbed at her sore wrists, wondering if she was dreaming or if she had died and woken up in some strange sort of purgatory.

The woman who had taken her inside had dark hair with some streaks of gray, all pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a traditional silken dress, and she kept grinning at Jenna as she pulled her farther into the room.

Gesturing to a wooden stool, the woman wordlessly instructed her to sit down, which Jenna did hesitantly. Before she knew what was coming, a swarm of women rose up and came upon her with brushes and perfumes and steaming towels. One of the women placed a wet, hot towel on her face, and, thankfully, she was gentle as she cleaned the muck and grime and tear stains from her face.

The towel moved over Jenna’s cheeks and forehead as gently as a mother would wash her own child. Jenna couldn’t believe how much better she felt after the woman pulled the towel away and stepped back, smiling down at her. Another woman had taken her hair tie out, as well as her trusty bobby pin, and had attacked the rat’s nest that was her hair. Another appeared in front of her with a large makeup pallet, a foundation brush, and a tube of mascara.

Jenna realized then that she was being made up for something, and that prospect immediately made her blood turn cold.

After she was all done up, they threw her into a corner, behind a bamboo screen, and tossed a dress over the top. Jenna wondered what would happen to her if she refused to change into it, but then she remembered the men who had brought her here, and decided to comply for the time being.

The dress was pink, in a disturbingly lovely shade, like a hibiscus flower in the middle of summer. It was such a contrast to what was happening to her that the silkiness of the material and the sheer exquisite detail of the dress made her eyes fill with tears. How she longed to have found something this beautiful at the market, within the safety of the tour group. She only wished she could have spent more time with the people from California and maybe made some new friends who she could keep in contact with when she went home.

Home.

She choked as she cried, trying to keep her sobs as quiet as possible. She wanted to be able to email her parents and tell them that she had lied to them, tell them where she was, and that she was safe. She wanted to be safe.

There was sharp, impatient knocking on the side of the bamboo screen, and Jenna forced herself to finish dressing. She wiped the tears from her eyes, knowing that some of her makeup must have been spoiled now, and stepped out from behind the screen, clutching her clothes to her chest.

The woman on the other side of the screen snatched the clothes from Jenna’s arms and tossed them carelessly into a basket. Jenna mourned their loss almost as acutely as the loss of her sense of security. It was the last connection she had to the life that she had been living yesterday— a life that could very well be over, she realized with horror— and she debated grabbing for at least her T-shirt. The image of her alma mater taunted her from the basket as the woman pulled her across the room toward a set of stairs.

Jenna was placed in the middle of the room, next to a gorgeous dark-haired girl with pale, almost translucent skin. She and Jenna made eye contact, and Jenna saw the pain and sadness that she was feeling reflected back at her.

Something was very, very wrong here. Jenna felt a welling sense of anger that pushed aside her sadness and fear.

Who are these sickos? she thought. Who do they think they are?

She still wasn’t even sure what was happening, but there was a new feeling, a new determination that was starting to rise up within her.

The woman who had done Jenna’s makeup suddenly appeared and touched up where the tears had messed up the mascara and eyeliner. Without hesitation, she started to fix it with her soft brush and eyeliner pen.

Jenna stared at this woman who would not meet her eye.

“Where am I?” Jenna asked. She was surprised at the steel in her tone.

The woman didn’t appear to have heard her.

“What’s going on?” Jenna snapped, raising her voice. “Why am I being held here?”

The woman only shifted her eyes to Jenna’s, and Jenna almost recoiled at the scorn she could see there.

No, not scorn. Warning.

Jenna’s mouth snapped shut, and she allowed the woman to finish applying the makeup. When she had completed it, she stepped aside to the other girl to check her as well.

Jenna swallowed hard and felt her blood turn to ice. Was the woman being kept here against her will, too?

She looked over her shoulder at the dark-haired girl, who appeared even paler than she had when Jenna had first seen her. She clenched her jaw and shook her head ever so slightly. Her dark hair was like liquid night, as silky as the ocean at midnight.

Jenna wanted nothing more than to comfort her. But as she attempted to take a step toward her, the woman who had fixed her makeup set a firm hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. She shot her another look of warning.

Before Jenna ever felt she would be ready, she was forced up the steps, to a door that slammed behind her.

Behind the door were glaring bright lights, and Jenna had to hold up a hand to shield her eyes. She felt herself being dragged along, and then, when she was released, she lowered her hands and gasped.

She was standing on a narrow stage inside of a huge ballroom, in front of a crowd of dozens of people—all of whom appeared to be men, behind the masks they wore. Jenna felt an uncontrollable fear well up inside of her as she looked around the room.

A voice was calling out from the side of the stage behind an old, outdated-looking podium, and it sounded like…numbers? Numbers into the thousands, or more?

Jenna gasped. She was at an auction. Only…she was the item being auctioned off. How despicable, how disgusting, how—

And then, the anger returned. It came like a torrent, washing over her and fueling her with a strength that she was not aware that she had. As the auctioneer continued to list higher and higher values, as more and more men lifted their paddles into the air, saying that she was worth more money than the man before him believed, she discovered that her fear was gone.

All of the anxiety of not knowing what had been happening to her in the last two days had finally been revealed, and it was as bad as she had thought it could be.

She would not be some man’s plaything, nor would she be a good little wife who could be bought. She would not be a slave, nor a servant, nor a mistress. She was a free woman, and she was going to stay that way. She wasn’t sure how, but she realized that now she knew what she was up against, she was going to beat it, whatever the cost.

She thought of the dark-haired girl who would be experiencing the same thing in just a few minutes’ time. Who knew where she, or Jenna, might end up?

I will get out of this, one way or another.

At the first chance she could find, she would escape. Even if she had to lull her buyer into a false sense of security. Maybe she would poison him on her way out.

She was unaware of how high the bidding had gone, but something must have given. Jenna was wrenched from the stage again, and instead of going back down the stairs to the basement, she was led down a small staircase along the side of the stage. She was ushered up the side aisle, past the men, and she wondered which of them had been her buyer.

She couldn’t wait to meet him, and to spit in his face.

Jenna was taken outside of the mansion, where several long, black limousines were waiting. She was pulled to the very last one in the line. The gruff man who was practically carrying her across the dirt pulled the door open and shoved her inside, slamming the door shut behind her.

Jenna huffed, and blew a stray strand of hair from her eyes, happy that her hair was no longer perfect.

Good. Let whoever this sicko is think that I’m less than perfect.

“Good evening,” came a deep, manly voice from the opposite side of the limousine.

Jenna nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned to see who it belonged to.