Grace paced her cell, her shoulder on fire. She’d removed her shirt and looked at the bruise that had developed after her fall, wishing she had an ice pack. After Tomas had left, she had slept for what felt like several hours. With nothing to do when she woke, she turned her camera on and scrolled through the pictures she had stored on the card. Unfortunately, she deleted regularly after uploading the pictures to her computer, so she only had a hundred or so on the memory card. She played a game, imagining how she’d edit the pictures and the stories she’d tell to go with them.

After ten stories, she was tired again. A new bruise had blossomed on the right side of her face, and her eye was swollen where his knuckle had hit. She had no mirror, but an awkward selfie with the camera revealed her face to be a mass of colors. A concussion crossed her mind again, but in the picture, her eyes looked fine. She wandered to the concrete bed and lay down, despair in her heart.

Another day passed. She had created stories for nearly every photo in her camera. No food had been brought to her, as Tomas had promised, so she felt weak. Her water was almost depleted, and she worried they planned to leave her in the cell to die of thirst and hunger. She spent most of her time curled up on the slab of concrete, listening for whatever sound might be carried to her. When she heard the outer door open for the first time in forty-eight hours, she rolled over and sat up slowly to avoid dizziness. Gathering what strength she had, she rose to her feet and waited for the person to arrive at the cell.

Tomas de Velazquez appeared like an angel, the same woman with him carrying a tray with a covered plate and a pitcher of water. Neither spoke as they entered. The woman smiled knowingly at Grace, deposited the tray on the table, and left with her bathroom bucket. Ravenous, Grace nearly ran to the table before her rational mind forced her feet to remain still. She didn’t speak, nor did she move when he smiled and gestured at the table.

“I’m sure you’re hungry, belleza,” he murmured seductively, his eyes half closed as they watched her. “Please, eat.”

“You promised me food every day. You lied,” she responded harshly, her voice creaking from lack of use and water.

Tomas nodded, sighing loudly. “Yes. You needed a lesson in humility.”

“You have nothing to teach me,” she replied, frowning darkly. “All I’ve learned from you is hunger and pain.”

“In hunger and pain are substantial lessons,” Tomas replied, his voice smooth like water.

“What lesson have you learned from hunger and pain?” she questioned, eyeing him.

Tomas watched her, and all her strength went into returning his gaze. When his eyes narrowed, she mirrored the action, but when he laughed, she lifted a nostril in disgust at him. Her sneer was met with more laughter, and with a roll of her eyes, she walked to the table and sat down to eat. A white napkin had been placed under the fork, and she snapped it and placed it on her lap as if she were at a restaurant. Her nonchalance was fake, and forcing herself to eat slowly was a feat that almost defeated her.

Tomas watched her from his place near the door before wandering over to sit across from her. Neither spoke for several minutes while she ate with a civilized air, and Grace was more than aware of his watchful eyes on her. She glanced up at him, and with her mouth full of steak covered in red sauce, she spoke.

“My face must be a joy to look at,” she commented blandly without looking at him. She opened the tinfoil next to the plate and found tortillas, so she tore one in half and dipped it in the delectable sauce. “All the colors.” Her eyes met his. “Inflicted by you and your men.”

Tomas breathed a laugh through his nose as he shook his head at her. “Your face could not be marred by mere bruises, belleza.”

“Thanks,” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

“Your newspaper man answered our demands,” he announced after she’d slipped another bite into her mouth.

She glanced up from her food, an eyebrow lifted in question. “And?”

“Mr. Hudson claims he doesn’t have the money.”

Grace shrugged and continued spooning food into her mouth, pretending his answer was of no consequence. “I’m not surprised. I told you the newspaper doesn’t have that kind of money. Charles doesn’t either.”

“I considered sending the video to your sisters,” he informed her, watching her closely.

Her nonchalance disappeared. She jerked upright, her food forgotten as fear struck a chord in her heart. “My sisters?”

“Faye and Elaine, I believe are their names,” he said, his eyes telling her he was relishing his little game. “Elaine had her baby, in case you didn’t know. Ethan and Charlie were by her side.”

A tear slipped from her eye, then another and another. “How do you know about my family?”

Tomas’ smile was like a gleeful jaguar staring at a dying deer. He crossed his legs slowly, brushing at imaginary dust on his perfectly tailored pants, and spread his hands wide. “A search on the internet requires very little knowledge. Social media is so useful.”

“My family doesn’t have money,” Grace was quick to say, her eyes boring into his. “They have less than Charles.”

“Yes, I did discover that as well. A pity, really,” he told her, tilting his head to the side. His handsome face was pensive as he watched her. He glanced at her plate and gestured to it. “Finish eating while we converse.”

“Stay away from my family.” Her shame at her wavering voice was palpable, but she maintained eye contact as she spoke.

Tomas chuckled. “I have no intention of seeking your family.”

“What is your intention?” Her stomach clenched as he eyed her like a new car.

He sighed loudly, exhaling for a long time before speaking. “Alas, I have decided I don’t have time to tame you into the perfect woman. I have a feeling it would take weeks.”

“Forever, you mean,” she asserted, the strength back in her voice. “I will never be a sex slave.”

He sucked in a breath and looked around the room as if debating how to answer her. His silence was more unnerving than if he’d hit her again. He was a deadly creature in a beautiful package, more frightening because of the magnificence of his face. Grace’s body trembled, and though she was still hungry, she couldn’t pick up her fork in front of him. He would see her fear in her shaking hands.

“Never is such a” —he waved his hand, searching for the word— “an absolute, belleza.” He uncrossed and crossed his legs again, his easy manner like that of a date. “I have decided to sell you to the highest bidder among my men.”

Dread settled on her like a weight, and the fear she thought she’d felt earlier was more like a little jitter of nerves. This was real fear. Her body wanted to release, her muscles to relax, her mind to escape, but she fought those needs. She breathed slowly in and out several times, a trick a friend had taught her. It didn’t work on the inside, but externally, she hoped she looked calm.

Tomas’ eyes dropped to her breasts, which were covered only by her filthy tank top and bra. She didn’t bother to cover herself with the button up shirt; he could choose to remove it if he wanted. Another tear slipped down her cheek.

“Why can’t you just let me go?” Grace asked, a shiver in her voice.

“Because you chose to put yourself in my line of sight,” Tomas answered graciously, the perfect interviewee. “And because a woman of your beauty is worth a lot of money here.”

A quiet sob left her, and she slammed her fist on the table as she rose to her feet. “No! I am not going to be sold! You can’t do this! It’s the goddamned twenty-first century! People don’t sell people!”

Throughout her outburst, he’d remained seated, watching her. She panted, her chest rising and falling dramatically. His smile began slow but eventually took over his face, and Grace felt as if she were looking at Pennywise the Clown. Either her capitulation or her death was promised in that gaze. But she wouldn’t bow down to him or anyone he sold her to. She’d fight until they had to kill her.

“How naïve you are for a reporter,” Tomas commented, shaking his head. “My belleza—”

“Stop calling me that!” she screamed. “I’m not whatever you’re saying! Just let me go!”

His face tightened. He rose slowly and pushed his chair under the table. Without a word, he walked to the cell door and banged loudly on it with his oversized ring. The woman returned and opened the door, hurried inside with the bathroom bucket, dropped it in its place, and quickly left. Tomas turned to face her again, his mask of geniality missing. Evil was in his expression, in his eyes, his predatory persona the real Tomas. Grace stepped back reflexively.

“Before I leave, allow me to tell you a story,” Tomas began, his voice frighteningly quiet. “An American woman disappeared from Matamoros last year. They never found her. Would you like to know why?”

She shook her head madly, sniffing as her chest tightened and her tears flowed relentlessly. “Please. No.”

A malevolent smile lifted his lips, causing a shiver of terror to sliver down her spine. “My men found her and thought she would be to my taste. Lovely blonde woman. Beautiful like you, though not strong. They brought her to me, but her weakness was too great. My women dressed her up, put makeup on her, and drugged her. I sold her to the top bidder.”

He paused while she processed his words. Her head began to shake of its own free will, her face crumpling as she waited for him to continue. She couldn’t stop his words or her tears.

“I had no idea what he had in mind for her, my soldier,” he continued, pursing his lips as if disappointed in his man. “He released her into the surrounding forest. A group of six men hunted her like an animal until she was cornered not far from here.” He lifted his head as if listening, then stared into her eyes with his dead, soulless ones. “Her screams echoed for two hours before her vocal cords no longer worked.”

Grace’s breath sped up as if she’d just completed a mile on the treadmill, and she was no runner. She opened her mouth to speak but could find no words. Afraid she looked like a gasping fish, she snapped her mouth shut and stared at him as he continued to speak.

“All six men fucked her,” he said blithely, shrugging. “And invited a few more to enjoy the spoils.”

“Raped her,” Grace corrected on a sob, her hand lifting to her mouth to cover it.

“As you like,” he sneered. “They left her laying naked at the forest’s edge, bloody and battered, for they were not gentle, and possibly unconscious. Who can say.” He turned to the door and looked over his shoulders. “The predators found her. Dragged the body away. We didn’t look for it.”

Grace sobbed through her hand and sank into the chair she had shoved back when she’d risen. Her mind was blank, her fear overtaking every thought she tried to think. Tomas watched her break down, enjoying her horror. He closed the door to her cell and locked it, but he didn’t leave.

“My women will be down for you soon, belleza, to take you to a bedroom with a bathroom where you can shower. They’ll give you fresh clothes and prepare you for the sale,” Tomas instructed. “Do as you’re told, and your fate will differ from that of the American blonde.”

Grace listened as his footsteps faded and the outer door opened and closed. Once she was certain he had left, she dropped to her knees, her arms around her middle, and screamed. Her screams became sobs, and her sobs were hysterical. No conscious thought occurred for several minutes as she allowed the last five days of terror and stress to release from her body. As the hysteria abated, her body fell to the side, and she lay in the fetal position until she fell asleep.

She woke not long after, judging by the lukewarm, untouched food. Her mind was calm after the bout of unconsciousness, and she began to devise a plan. A long shot, but I have to try something, she mused as she returned to the table and lifted her fork. She needed her strength, and though her stomach twisted and she feared she’d vomit, she forced her hand to scoop up food and put it in her mouth. She chewed, having to concentrate on the natural act, and swallowed with difficulty.

I need my strength. Be strong, Grace, be strong, she told herself internally, not trusting herself to speak aloud. If her voice quavered, she would succumb to the fear and fall in a heap on the floor again. Think of Elaine and Faye and Mom. Charlie and Ethan. All your friends, she thought as she ate another bite. She slowly found her strength in thoughts of her family, and she continued working on her plan in her mind.

* * *

Grace didn’t sleep again. When she lay down on her concrete slab, visions of a blonde woman sprinting through the woods filled her mind like a slasher film. Before the real horror could begin, she would jump up and begin to pace, occupying her mind with any mundane information she could think of.

What she assumed was hours later, for she’d lost track of time days ago, two women appeared at her cell door. Both were dressed as soldiers, and both wore guns at their hips. Both had dark hair and eyes, and neither were pretty. These were henchwomen, if such a thing existed.

One stepped inside and spoke to her in a mixture of Spanish and English. When Grace only stared at her uncomprehendingly, the other huffed and said, “We’re taking you upstairs.”

“You speak English?” Grace asked, her head jerking to the second.

“I’m from Texas,” the woman revealed, bored. “More money for a woman of my profession in Mexico.”

“What is your profession?” The woman grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the cell, yanking her around like a doll. “Damn, are you a professional wrestler?”

The woman smirked. “Smart ass. You won’t like what happens if you speak like that to your owner.”

Grace sniffed indignantly. “I don’t have an owner.”

“You will,” she commented as if it were common knowledge.

Grace stopped speaking as they ascended a set of stairs and exited the basement in which she’d been kept. The sun was high in the sky, indicating midday, and Grace squinted and lifted her free arm to cover her eyes. She looked in every direction as they walked, though she didn’t turn her head. She had been held captive in what looked like the grounds of a huge mansion, and they were currently walking through a stunning courtyard to the main house. The courtyard, though, was surrounded by a high wall on every side, and there were surveillance cameras fifteen feet apart along the wall.

As they entered the house, Grace looked for escape routes. They passed what she assumed was the front door, but she’d bet her life—which probably would be short if she failed—that the front was also covered by surveillance cameras. She noted four cameras watching them as they rushed through the house and up a set of stairs. They walked past seven doors before entering a bedroom larger than her apartment, and Grace immediately counted the windows and wondered how far the drop was.

The woman holding her arm released her and gestured to a door by lifting her chin in its direction. “Take a shower. Leave your clothes on the floor. We have new ones for you.”

Grace looked at her. “As much as I’d love a shower, I prefer to remain fully clothed, thanks.”

“Take a shower on your own, or Esmerelda and I will bathe you,” the woman told her, scorn in her tone. “You won’t like it if we have to do it, honey.”

“Esmerelda?” Grace asked, looking at the larger of the two women before returning her gaze to the Texan. “What’s your name?”

“Anna. Take a shower alone, or do you want a couple of big bitches to help you?” she asked, smirking meanly. Esmerelda nodded, her thick neck making her look like a linebacker.

Grace tilted her head and snorted, heading to the bathroom as she said, “I think I can manage.” She stopped and faced Anna. “You do know what he’s going to do with me, right?”

“I can guess,” she replied without expression.

“And you’re okay with that? With a woman being sold like cattle?”

Anna shrugged. “None of my business.”

“That’s really shitty,” Grace told her, frowning. “You’re really shitty.” Esmerelda spoke in rapid Spanish, and Anna laughed. “What she’d say?”

Anna’s eyes shifted to her, a vicious expression in her eyes. “She said you won’t be alive long with that mouth. Unless you learn how to use it for something other than talking.”

“Fuck you, and fuck her,” Grace growled quietly as she stomped into the bathroom. The first thing she saw was a mirror, and she gasped at her reflection. Both eyes were blacked, and a bruise had formed around the corner of her mouth, though she had no idea how she got it. Probably that asshole holding my mouth, she grumbled internally. She turned away from the mirror and wondered how Tomas expected to sell her when she looked like she’d had her ass handed to her.

She stripped quickly after turning on the water, and when she stepped under the stream, she sighed with the first pleasure in days. She’d never been so filthy in her life, and as she washed five days of grime off, the aches she’d been trying to ignore advanced on her. Her shoulder, which was a riot of purples and blues, hurt when she raised her arms to wash her hair. She grunted and lowered her arm, using only one hand to finish her washing. To escape, she would have to ignore that pain, so she let the water beat on the shoulder a moment, hoping some of the ache would vanish.

She toweled off quickly and thought about the best course of action. If she could get one of the women to leave the room, she might be able to get out one of the windows. The bathroom had a tiny window she couldn’t get through, but she looked out and noted the window on this side opened onto a roof so she wouldn’t have to drop fifteen feet to the ground. She hoped one of the bedroom windows had the same access.

Anna banged on the door and yelled, “Hurry up! We’re supposed to get you dressed and take you downstairs.”

Grace jerked the door open and glared at her, a towel wrapped around her body. “What am I wearing?” Anna threw a thumb over her shoulder, and she followed with her eyes. A green dress lay on the bed, stunning in its cut and color. She walked to it and lifted it, frowning. “This is very revealing.”

“You’re being sold, bitch. Did you expect overalls?” Anna scoffed.

Grace turned to her and smiled slightly, dropping the towel to distract the women. Esmerelda’s gaze swept her body from head to toe, lust plain on her face, but Anna only looked at her. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday. Can I have something?”

Anna narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Your owner can feed you.”

“I’m not a goddamned dog!” Grace exploded. “Can I have some fruit or something?”

Anna spoked rapidly to Esmerelda, who gave Grace an ugly look and left the room. Anna returned her gaze and said, “She thinks you’re an idiot.”

“I’m not too fond of you or her, so…” she said, shrugging. She sat on the bed near a bedside table with a heavy looking lamp. She was grateful Anna had stayed rather than the other, who was much larger than Grace. Anna was close in size, though the clothes would hang on her if she stole them. Assuming her plan worked.

“Get up and get dressed, bitch,” Anna ordered. “You can eat your snack on the way downstairs.”

“I’m tired,” she said, hoping Anna would walk closer when she defied her, “and a little dizzy. Can I sit for a minute?”

As she’d hoped, she stomped to her and hissed, “Get the hell up and get dressed, or I’ll knock your ass out and dress you.”

With speed she didn’t know she was capable of, she grabbed the lamp and yanked it off the table towards Anna’s head. The woman reacted, but too slowly, and Grace was able to smash the lamp into her head, breaking the heavy base into shards. She dropped to the floor, unconscious, and Grace stared at her, aghast at what she’d done.