Page 17 of Caging Liberty
“Yeah. There’s like ten other women up there who share the same quarters. Some of them came to the island willingly because they thought they were coming here to be with Sawyer. Two were taken and brought here a couple of weeks ago, and they’re way more wary than the rest, but even they are acting like they’ve just accepted this.”
“What is ‘this’ exactly? He told me I was going to be a manor whore. What does that mean?”
“It means you’re supposed to fuck the guys who come here until you’re fully brainwashed, and then I think you get sold to one person and go live with them. I’m really not sure, though. The woman I talked to seemedexcitedto be picked by a ‘master’ who’s coming to get her soon. That’s the gist of what I picked up on. Like I said on the boat, we’re fucked.”
“No, we’re not.” I swallow, trying to convince myself I’m not lying. “There has to be a way off this island.”
“There isn’t. Trust me.”
“You’ve only been here a few hours, Naomi. You can’t possibly know that.”
There’s a pause, and tension fills the cellar like a heavy fog. I shift, the discomfort in my mind worse than anything physical at this point. My limbs went numb to the concrete floor a long time ago.
“How long do you think we’ve been here?” Naomi asks, the concern in her voice putting me even more on edge.
“I don’t know. A while.” I try to count the number of times I’ve dozed off out of boredom or exhaustion, but I can’t remember.
“Lib… We got here three days ago.”
5
Angel
“Fucking lost cause.”
Sawyer shakes his head disapprovingly while he stares at the monitor showing surveillance footage of the cellar. Lib sits in the lone cell with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms snugly wrapped around her shins like she’s holding herself in. Sawyer says she’s been like that for three days.
I’ll admit, I expected much better progress than this. I’ve been gone a week, and that’s typically enough time for Sawyer to have a woman coaxed into submission. The cellar is a last resort sort of thing, so Lib must be fighting hard. I’m as impressed as I am annoyed.
My eyes travel to the wall of empty neck binds, and I consider asking why she isn’t in one of them but stop myself. It’s telling that she’s in the cell. Sawyer never uses it. It’s for long term misbehavior, meant to punish while limiting the muscle atrophy that would occur from being in one position for too long. In a way, the cell is an admission of failure.
“There’s no such thing as a lost cause.” My eyes travel back to Lib. She hasn’t flinched.
Sawyer scoffs. “Right.”
“She just needs more time.” I tilt my head as I study her. I’m not even convincing myself.
Sawyer shakes his head. “I should’ve never accepted her from Gaumond. She’s not the type of woman who fits in here.”
“You wanted a challenge.”
Sawyer clenches his jaw and stares at Lib’s image with more disdain than I think is necessary. She’s really gotten to him.
“Yes, well, I was wrong,” he grumbles, craning his neck. “I’m giving her two more days, then she’s gone.”
“Gone, as in…?”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. No slave leaves the island. Ever. Under any circumstances. Any woman brought here dies here, whether they outlive their time as a whore or not. Older women take over the more domestic tasks once they’re no longer wanted sexually. It’s against the law of the island to murder a slave, but there are always exceptions.
“That bad, huh?” I ask.
He turns to me and holds up his hand, showing me broken skin with teeth indentations just below his knuckles.
I fight a smile.
“We stopped giving her food three days ago. If starvation isn’t enough to make her behave, I don’t know what is. I’m not a fan of torture, but Julio hasn’t exactly been gentle, so I doubt even that would work. The next time Gaumond shows up here, I’m kicking his ass. The asshole said she was a passive housewife. The bitch is feral.”
I chuckle and earn Sawyer’s glare.