Paris, France

  A bead of sweat formed under her hairline but Ashtyn willed it not to fall, knowing that she was minutes away from getting what she wanted. Or her life being over.
 Today is the day I am laying it all out for him. Either he will accept my terms, or I will be dead. We will both be. I’ll know our future in the next few minutes.
 Ashtyn wondered how many times she had been in precisely the same place in the past years.
 I would think after all this time, the fear would have subsided but if anything, it grows. Maybe because I already know it’s too late, that no matter what, Viola is a lost cause and I have become a monster. How many people have I killed to save one? One who could already be dead, for all I know.
 She shoved her guilt and second thoughts aside.
 If she believed the worst, then she may as well kill herself now. It meant the last few years of suffering and doing deplorable things would have all been for nothing, and Ashtyn could not bear the idea.
 “Un instant, ma Cherie,” Jacques told her, winking lewdly and Ashtyn supressed a shudder as she stared at him impassively.
 “I have waited this long, Jacques. What is one more minute?” she asked but the annoyance in her voice was clear.
 “If you like, I know some ways we can pass the time,” he told her, licking his lips suggestively.
 “And what will we do with the other fifty seconds left in the minute?” she asked innocently.
 Instantly, the man’s face twisted into a sneer.
 “If you want what you have been waiting for, you best wait as long as you are told and lose that bitch attitude.”
 She turned her head slightly to the side, her chic blonde bob partially covering her face as she did. She did not want Jacques or the others to see the expression on her face.
 Who am I kidding? It isn’t over. It will never be over. Khan has made his position clear. I am forever indebted to them.
 “Ashtyn!”
 Khan appeared, his full belly protruding from a short-sleeved button-down as he entered the cabin of the yacht, gold chains hanging obscenely over his hairy chest.
 Someone needs to tell this asshole the seventies were forty years ago.
 Ashtyn knew she was not going to be the one to break it to the underworld boss.
 Maybe after we’re free…
 He approached her, kissing both cheeks with wet, puckered lips and Ashtyn waited for the customary ass grab before he set her back, slightly sweatier for the experience.
 “You become more beautiful every day, ya amar. You have no idea how I rue every day that the boys did not find you first.”
 A frozen smile appeared on Ashtyn’s face.
 No matter how many times she heard the same disgusting phrases from Khan, they did not make her skin crawl any less.
 “I’m sure you aren’t complaining, Khan,” she said smoothly. “I imagine I have been much more prosperous for you this way than any other way.”
 “Oh I don’t know, ya helo. I don’t have to tell you how well some of my other businesses are flourishing.”
 Ashtyn had had enough.
 “Where is she, Khan?”
 His mouth cemented into his fake smile as his black eyes became hardened stone of anger.
 “Why do you speak to me in such harsh tones, Ashtyn?”
 She gritted her teeth, knowing exactly what would happen if she permitted her fury to overcome her common sense.
 She had made that mistake only once and she was not going to have a replay. The scar was still visible along the line of her neck.
 “You promised to release her years ago,” she replied in a casual tone, the struggle to control herself beyond painful. “Every run you promise me.”
 “Ah yes well that was before you proved to be so invaluable to me, ya amar. You have no one but yourself to blame for the predicament you find yourself in.”
 It was another old argument but still one which boiled her blood.
 “What will it take for you to release her, Khan? I have already promised to stay under your employ. What possible use could you have for keeping Viola?”
 Khan scoffed and snapped his fingers at Jacques who immediately produced Khan’s iPad.
With a few flicks of his fingers, he pulled into focus a rolodex of pictures.
 Ashtyn’s breath caught in her throat as it always did when he produced images of her sister.
 The gorgeous, pale face with too much make-up and haunted blue eyes was enough to give Ashtyn nightmares until the following round of photos.
 “You see how beautiful she is, your sister?” Khan demanded, thrusting the tablet in her face for her to see.
 As if I could ever forget how beautiful she was before you kidnapped her, Ashtyn thought bitterly, blinking back her tears rapidly as she expertly hid her feelings. I don’t need you to remind me about how you’ve raped her of her innocence and will to live.
 “If I just allow for her to leave, I would need someone to replace her,” Khan continued, his black eyes glittering deviously.
 The words hung in the air and Ashtyn choked back the lump in her throat. She knew what Khan was implying.
 He wanted her to branch out, find him girls and work the trafficking side of his business. It was not the first time he had suggested, and she was sure it would not be the last.
 You have trafficked my sister for six years and you think I would want any part of that game? The only reason I have allowed myself to run the drugs is based on some misguided hope that you will eventually get sick of this game.
 Ashtyn knew that as long as she continued to do Khan’s bidding, she had a lifeline to her sister.
   It was her secret hope that once Viola became too “old” for the traffickers, Khan would order her release.
 It was a long shot, but it was the only one she had. Without it, Viola was as good as dead.
 “I am afraid I don’t know anyone who would be interested in that line of work,” Ashtyn spat. “But if I do hear of someone looking, you will be the first to know.”
 Khan laughed heartily, slapping her face with what was meant to be a playful gesture, but the sting was genuine, the animus not subtle.
 “Oh, sweet girl,” he cooed. “No woman realizes how much they enjoy it until they try. I think you should give it a whirl, as the Americans say, yes?”
 “No, thanks,” Ashtyn snapped, her patience gone. “I think I am done working for you, Khan. You have done nothing but lie to me since I came here begging for Viola’s life. This is a game to you, but I am done playing. My sister is as good as dead after the years of abuse you have put her through anyway. Undoing the damage that you and her rapists have done…”
 She trailed off, wondering if she had gone too far that time.
 Half closing her crystalline eyes, she waited for a blow to shatter her cheekbone or a knife to slash her face but neither transpired.
 When she finally built the courage to open her eyes again, she saw Khan studying her pensively.
 “I will cut your sister loose after the next run through Paris,” he told her. “But you will stay working for me or I will kill you both.”
 Ashtyn knew he was not kidding about their deaths, but she had a difficult time believing that he would honor his promise.
 After all, how many times has she heard it over the past six years?
 “Thank you,” she breathed, exhaling deeply. “I will – “
 “No,” Khan interrupted flatly. “You do not understand.”
 Ashtyn stared up at him, the hairs on her arms beginning to rise as she studied his face.
 There was something different about his expression this time and it filled her with dread.
 “When Viola’s contract is up, you will both work for me, full time.”
 Contract, she thought bitterly. As if she had been headhunted to being pimped out.
 Ashtyn began to shake her head, but she immediately stopped herself.
 Why are you fighting him? If he wants to believe you have any such arrangement, let him. You know that as soon as you get Viola back, you two are disappearing where he can never find you.
 Where in the world that might be was something she would deal with later.
 She quickly turned her head shake into a nod.
 “Of course,” she breathed. “Anything you want.”
 Again Khan scoffed, rubbing his meaty hand through his scruffy black beard. He leered openly at Ashtyn, licking his dry lips.
 “You will do anything I want?” he echoed, and Ashtyn bobbed her head again. “You heard her, yes, Jacques?”
 “I heard her,” Jacques chortled, nodding like a marionette and Ashtyn wanted to punch him in his lecherous jaw.
 It might take her a lifetime, but she would make them pay, all of them. And there would be a special torture ready for Jacques.
 If you let Viola go, I don’t care what I have to agree to, she told herself, willing her mind to focus on one problem at a time.
 “You have a deal,” he said, extending his hand and she stared at him for a long moment. Never had he ever offered his hand in accordance with something he had said.
 For the first time since the entire ordeal had begun, Ashtyn felt a stab of hope as she tentatively accepted his palm.
 He grasped her hand in his sweating fingers and squeezed it, pulling her in close.
 “There are two things I want,” he whispered into her ear, his steamy breath sending shivers of disgust through her body. Ashtyn tried to move back but his grip was too intense.
 “The first is that you will expand your cunning and expertise into my other businesses,” he rasped.
 She could not supress the shiver of disgust, but she nodded in assent.
 I saw that coming, she reasoned. It’s never going to happen but -
 “The second thing is, before I give your sister to you, I want one night with you.”
 Bile instantly rose to her throat at the thought of being touched by the greasy bastard and she almost shook her head again, but caught herself before she could make such a mistake.
 Ashtyn reasoned she had been lucky that she had not already been raped by the bastard. She still didn’t understand why he hadn’t forced her, as he did so many other girls. She knew he wanted her – he didn’t make a secret of it. But it was like he wanted to force her to agree with the rape. He knew she was disgusted by the thought and would never agree to it. But now, she realized, he was using the leverage he would lose with this deal, against her. She had known it was only a matter of time before he took what he wanted by force if she didn’t agree to bed him.
 “Anything,” she gasped, almost choking on bile as she agreed to his terms.
   Khan shoved her back and looked at her face, his bushy eyebrows raising.
 “Perhaps we should do it tonight since you are so eager. I knew you would be,” he laughed. “Didn’t I tell you, Jacques? She is horny, despite her cold exterior, right?”
 The men laughed, and Ashtyn jerked away.
 “Not so fast,” she replied, stepping out of his grasp. “You have lied to me before, Khan. If it is going to happen, I want to see my sister, face to face.”
 The men chortled again, and Khan raised his hands in mock surrender.
 “She likes to play hard to getting – is that what they say in English?” he joked with Jacques.
 “The next shipment is coming in two weeks,” Ashtyn told him. “I will be in Marseille to collect it and we will meet in Paris, with my sister. Is it a deal?”
 Khan shrugged nonchalantly.
 “Put it in the calendar,” he said to the Frenchman flippantly. “I am busy man. I do not have time to remember where I put every whore in France.”
 Ashtyn bristled but maintained a serene expression on her face.
 “Two weeks then,” she said, turning to exit the cabin.
 “Are you sure you don’t want to show me your titties?” Jacques called and to Ashtyn’s pleasure, Khan punched him in the face.
 “Show some respect,” he snarled at his right-hand man. “She is not one of the sluts from the houses.”
 Sluts like my sister he means, Ashtyn thought, the fury she had been growing for years really to spill like molten lava through her mouth.
 She rushed toward the steps and made her way onto the deck, the bright afternoon light blinding her almost as she gazed out at the Seine.
 Once upon a time, Paris had represented the city of love and lights to her. She could remember sitting at home with her sister in New Orleans, talking about visiting the Sainte Chapelle and the Eiffel Tower.
 We thought we would come here and fall in love, Ashtyn thought, hurrying off the boat as fast as her long legs would move her. We thought we had life in the palm of our hand. Instead, we will never talk of France again. If we make it out of here alive.
 She disembarked the sixty-nine-foot yacht and felt the band of her ankle monitor rasp against her skin as one of Khan’s men helped her down.
 She was as much a prisoner of the man as Viola was.