If she thought she would get answers from The Kingmaker once they left the Kendall Estate, Luna was mistaken.

Not only did he not speak another word to her besides which way to walk and where to sit, but he also didn’t pay very much attention to her at all, hardly even looking in her direction.

She didn’t even get the chance to try and find Cat in the chaos before she was pushed into the back of a waiting car, two thumps on the roof sounding before they were starting off.

Over the span of what couldn’t have been more than an hour, Luna was once again being uprooted from everything she knew, and taken somewhere—with someone—she didn’t. Everything she cared for, though there wasn’t much at all in this place, was left behind.

It was silly to miss old textbooks, but she wished she could have taken them with her—though she couldn’t be sure she would get to use them wherever she was going.

Only once they arrived at a private airfield that was warded off by barbed wire did Luna dare ask her first question. Had it not been for the men—and these men looked more like soldiers—standing alert from the front end of the town car to the jet waiting on the tarmac, she would have tried to run.

But one look at the rifles they were holding, and she knew she wouldn’t be faster than a bullet.

“Where are we going?”

“Is that really the question you want to ask?” he asked, not unkindly, but rather curiously—as though he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

There were plenty, a number of which she probably hadn’t thought of yet, but she didn’t think he would answer the question she really wanted answered: What did he plan to do with her?

Instead, she nodded, figuring this inquiry was one he might be wiling to answer.

“New York,” Uilleam said as he gestured for her to go ahead of him onto the jet, pausing a moment to speak with one of his soldiers.

Ariana, Luna’s sister, had gone on a trip to New York. She’d described the lights and tall buildings, the food and the blending of cultures. Luna had always wanted to visit.

She could count on one hand the number of times she had been on a plane, but none of those were anything like this one. While it might have been half the size of a traditional airplane, the interior made it feel far more spacious.

There weren’t traditional seats on the jet—though a few were strategically placed by windows. The majority of the floor was open, with a couch in a U-shape facing a television that lowered from a hidden panel in the ceiling.

Luna stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor, not sure what to do. She wasn’t even sure how to act. Was she to assume that he wanted her ready for whatever he wanted to do to her?

Her gaze was drawn to a rather large bed in the rear of the plane, the monstrosity making a lump form in her throat.

“There’ll be none of that,” Uilleam said as he appeared at her side, reading her expression. Almost absently, his gaze moved beyond the bed as he mumbled, “My heart is not my own.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of him.

“Please,” he said when she didn’t offer a response. “Have a seat.”

Going to where he pointed, she sunk down onto the very end of the sectional, folding her hands in her lap as she waited as he did the same. A part of her knew she should have been more afraid than she was, but she didn’t think he could do anything worse than what Lawrence had done for the last few years.

Drawing in a breath as he regarded her, Uilleam said, “As I’ve secured your freedom, I would like to ask for something in return.”

This was where she thought he would tell her that she would have to pay him back on her back, but he had said that they wouldn’t be doing that. So what could he want?

“You bought my freedom?”

There was no hesitation. “I did.”

“I don’t understand,” she said with a shake of her head. “Why would you do that?”

“The reason is immaterial, though I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that your freedom comes at a price.”

“Then what do you want?”

“We’re not quite there yet, are we? For now, how about you tell me how you came to be at Emmett’s infamous brothel. And please,” he said as he pressed a button on a remote he held. “Spare no detail.”

---

It was the hottest summer ever.

Having lived in San Jose all her life, Luna knew all too well how punishing the summer heat could be, but even she had decided against venturing outside to lay by the pool. A few days prior, though she hadn’t been outside more than a couple of hours, by the time she came in, she’d had the most painful sunburn that was only now healing.

Blanco had trailed behind her wherever she went, plopping down next to her feet once she finally settled onto her bed with a sigh, pulling out the journal she kept hidden between books on the shelf in her room. Within its pages were all of her hopes, dreams, and ambitions, an abundance of things that her fourteen-year-old heart could possibly love. Between those, and the random scribblings about her favorite American celebrities, one could learn the most about her just by reading through it.

Even Luna did sometimes—going back over entries she’d added just to remember what she had felt during certain days of her life. This particular journal had only lasted her only a couple of weeks, because no matter how insignificant the detail, she made sure to add it.

Every moment was worth remembering, Luna had always thought.

Plus, it made her feel less invisible when she was reading her own thoughts and telling herself how best to work through those feelings should they ever arise again.

Her mother, Carmen, was often too busy to listen to the trivial things that upset her—she was trying to run a household after all—and if she wanted everything moving smoothly, she had to devote every waking moment to her goal.

Her father, Juan, was very much the same, caring more for his work than having a relationship with his daughter—that was a woman’s job after all, he liked to say.

And her sister, Ariana, who was four years older and liked to remind her of that fact any chance she got. She had her own set of friends—friends who wouldn’t want to hang around her younger sister, she mocked with a roll of her eyes.

But despite how alone she felt at times, Luna loved her family, and her family loved her.

One could never know how much time would be spent with loved ones—most took it for granted, assuming they would have another day to make it up—but as Luna looked up from her journal, a movement just outside of her window catching her eye, she hadn’t known at the time just how little time she had left with her family.

Luna was used to men around the house—Juan made good money working at his company and liked to keep the landscaping around the house well maintained—so she wasn’t surprised that men were walking about.

But she was surprised because they weren’t dressed as the gardeners usually were.

There were no jeans.

No sweat-stained shirts and tools at their belts.

They were dressed in all black as she had seen the local policía when they were hunting bad men through the streets. It all looked heavy, that gear, but it didn’t seem to weigh them down—they moved without hindrance. But it wasn’t their clothes, or the masks that covered half of their faces, it was the assault rifles they carried that made fear slither through her chest.

Something was terribly wrong.

Very quickly, she dashed over to her bedroom door, grabbing her phone as she went. Blanco, seeming to notice the disturbance outside as well, perked up, growls starting up in the back of his throat.

Luna attempted to shush him by calling him to her, but while he came, he still huffed, ready to have a go at anyone who thought to come into his house—even Luna’s family had to tread carefully around him when he was in a mood.

Luna was dialing her father when she heard glass break, the sound unmistakably loud in the silence of the house. Ariana was out with her friends, Juan was at work as usual, and Carmen … well, she wasn’t sure where her mother was, only knew that it had something to do with shopping for Ariana.

But when she heard the shards of glass hitting the floor, Luna no longer hesitated.

She ran.

As fast as her legs could carry her, she took off in the opposite direction from where they were coming in. They were coming through the front, but thankfully, Ariana’s bedroom was on the other side of the house with a screen door that led to the pool in the backyard. If she could get through it and the side gate, she could go unnoticed.

They wouldn’t even know she had been in the house.

But that hope was dashed the minute she hit Ariana’s room and saw the men coming through that door too. The one in front scared her the most. He was massive, well over six-feet, and had enough muscle on him that he looked like he could do damage with the slightest swing of his arm.

Luna screamed in surprise as one attempted to grab her, narrowly getting hold of her before she lurched back through the door and took off the way she came. Blanco was no longer at her heels, launching himself at one of the men, sharpened teeth latching on to his ankle.

“Fucking hell! Someone get the mutt!”

He was American, her mind registered though she was still running, his accent unmistakable. At her father’s request, Luna had been enrolled in one of the best private schools in the city, ensuring that she learned English since it he’d said it would be good for her future. Now, she spoke it as well as her native Spanish, and at that moment, she was glad for his insistence.

Luna was almost to the end of the hallway when she heard Blanco make a horrible whining sound as he was kicked. Despite her desperate need to get away before they could catch her, she found herself whirling around at the sound.

“Leave him alone!” She couldn’t let them hurt him, not when they were there for her.

But in her foolishness, one of them snuck up behind her, and she felt a pinch her neck a moment before a cooling sensation whipped through her. “S’alright,” a voice said in her ear, not harshly despite what he was doing. “You go to sleep now.”

There was only a moment, a heartbeat before her body grew lax in his hold and her vision blurred. Voices warped and blended, and just before she passed out entirely, she heard:

Target acquired.

---

Luna had been so lost in her retelling that she hadn’t realized they were no longer alone. There was a man, as sharply dressed as Uilleam, though more than three decades older. He set a glass down for Uilleam, then looked at her.

“For the lady?”

She blinked in surprise, looking at Uilleam.

“Have you eaten?”

She shook her head—not since the day before.

“Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.”

Despite her answer, Uilleam said, “Bring whatever we have on hand, Dominic. Thank you.”

The man disappeared as quickly as he came.

“What do you remember of the days following?”

If she thought he would be moved by the horrific tale she had just described, he wasn’t. His expression hadn’t shifted even a little, as though he heard this every day.

Not sure what to think of that, she answered, “I was taken to a warehouse where I was held for three days.”

“What happened while you were there?”

Why did he want to know?

Especially since he seemed so disinterested.

While she was trying not to sink too deeply into those horrible memories, he acted as though he were asking her to retell a story from a book. It wasn’t making any sense—but he, himself, wasn’t making any sense either.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Luna hadn’t understood it, either. For the three days that she had been held, while she had been kept locked away in a room, unable to do anything more than scream herself hoarse demanding to be let go, no one bothered her. The only time someone came into her room was to deliver food and take her to the showers that were on the other side of the warehouse. Even when she attempted to escape that first night, she wasn’t beaten for her insolence, merely told not to try it again as she was dragged back to her room.

Truthfully, those three days hadn’t been bad—at least not compared to what she had suffered after she left that place.

Luna told him just that.

But when she did, he merely nodded, then said, “After that time, is that when you were given to Emmett?”

This time, it was her turn to nod. “Yes.”

He seemed troubled a moment, his brows drawing together as he prepared to speak, but before he could, Dominic reappeared with a tray, setting it down between them. Whatever moment they were having was abruptly over as Uilleam’s expression cleared, and he was back to indifference.

“Interesting.”

“Why would—”

She stopped short as Dominic leaned over to whisper something in Uilleam’s ear. Whatever he said had the other man nodding, and when Uilleam looked back at Luna, she doubted he would be answering her question anymore.

“Since we’ll be landing soon, I think it’s best I explain to you why we’re in New York. As of now, you’re of no use to me.” When she just stared at him, he continued. “But there’s potential that I intend to exploit.”

Her unease grew, her throat feeling tight as she thought of what he could mean.

“But don’t worry about that now. One day, after all this unpleasantness is behind us and you complete a rather minor task for me, you’ll be free to return to an ordinary life if that’s what you choose.”

“But I still don’t know what you want from me,” she whispered, still trying to make sense of it all.

“Loyalty,” he returned, gesturing with a nod of his head to the tray of food in front of her, a silent command for her to eat.

She had forgotten it was there.

Though she wasn’t very hungry—she was too anxious to feel anything else—she picked up one of the square sandwiches—one that didn’t have cucumbers on it—and nibbled the corner of it.

Loyalty. Was that all he wanted? “Okay.”

If he asked for nothing else, this she could give if only because he got her away from Lawrence and didn’t seem to expect much from her in return.

“So freely given, yet you haven’t the slightest idea who you’re offering it to.” Downing more of his drink, he added, “There’s a reason why they call me The Kingmaker. One of these days, I’ll do something that will inevitably test that loyalty you’ve promised. We’ll see where you stand then. Consider this your warning.”

Luna expected remorsefulness in his tone, or something like it, but he didn’t seem bothered by how he described himself.

Just stated it as though it was mere fact.

“Do I need to call you that?” she asked, remembering what he had said when he first introduced himself.

Though she’d seen glimpses of ‘The Kingmaker,’ it sounded weird, even in her head, calling him that regularly.

His expression may have softened a fraction. “For you, Uilleam is fine.”

That felt almost … nice.

But she had no idea why.