Just break me out.

You can leave me on the streets for all I care.

Just…get me out of here.

“Okay, fine. Stay outside. I don’t expect you to, but if you want to sleep in the car, so be it. I’ll be out at dawn.” Cutting the call, he tossed the phone to the bottom of the bed.

My eyes tracked it.

A phone.

Within touching distance.

A few seconds ticked past as I gawked.

“I take it you’re not allowed access to such things.” Mr. Prest laughed softly. “It’s not going to bite.”

No, but it could call my mother, my friends…the police.

Once again, his unnerving ability to read my body language gave me away. “Ah, you’re thinking about calling your family.” Using the toe of one foot, he tossed off his shoe, followed by the other, kicking them both off the bed and revealing black socked feet. “By all means, try. I’ll give you one chance to ring whoever you want. The password is 88098.”

I jolted.

You mean…you wouldn’t stop me?

Who the hell was this man? And what was his agenda?

Linking his arms behind his head, he whispered, “I won’t tell.” Closing his eyes, in some strange way giving me privacy, he rested his skull in cradling hands.

For an endless minute, I glowered at the phone. All it would take was a simple crawl and scoop and dial. I could talk to my mother after so long. I could finally inform someone what happened to me, beg them to come, and have this horror end.

“Of course, in order to use it, you’ll have to speak.” Mr. Prest’s voice put roadblocks in my way. “Your call, Pimlico. Speak and earn your freedom. Don’t and the phone remains unused.”

My lungs expanded with anger. That was his game all along. Damn him. He’d almost won. Yet…if he let me call, and I spoke to my mother…who truly won? Me or him?

Both of us.

My body decided before my mind. My good hand speared out, snatched the device, and curled around it like a tiger would her cub.

Mr. Prest never opened his eyes, but his smirk became a smile. “I look forward to hearing your voice.”

Ignoring his taunt, I swiped on the screen and input his password. The code glowed in my head, never to be forgotten. The moment the call menu came up, I stabbed my old home number, making three mistakes because of severely shaking hands.

I had a phone.

I was seconds away from talking to the mother who’d landed me in this mess.

My throat closed at the image of Mr. Prest seizing his mobile and laughing. Or that Master A would choose this exact moment to burst in. Panic swirled. What I would say to the woman who I’d blamed for so long?

I waited and waited for the line to connect.

Mother...

Help.

Ring-ring, ring-ring.

With each bell, my spine rolled further until I crouched on the bed with my elbows digging into the mattress. I couldn’t control my trembling, nor the shattered gasp as an automated message answered instead of the woman who’d given me this half-life.

“I’m sorry, the number you have dialled has been disconnected. No forwarding contact has been given. Please refer to other means or call your local directory for more information.”

No.

No.

No!

The phone fell from my hand, thudding softly as my forehead pressed hard on the bed.

She’d not only forgotten about me, she’d moved on with her existence. She’d had experiences without me, built an empire without me by her side.

I was nothing.

Why didn’t you call the police?

You had one chance!

The stabbing question ransacked me as Mr. Prest grabbed his phone and ended the communication.

My one opportunity to ring for help and I’d been an idiotic little girl desperate to speak to her mother.

I wanted to slap myself.

For a fleeting second, Mr. Prest stroked my shoulder before he settled back against the headboard. “Well, shit. I guess I won’t hear you talk, after all.”

WELL THAT FUCKING backfired.

I hadn’t planned to give her the option to speak to her past, it just sort of happened. One moment, my phone was something so common, a tool I used every hour, of every day. The next, it was the holy fucking elixir for this delicate creature who trembled as if it could turn into a portal and carry her far away.

My hands curled into tight fists. “Who did you call?”

Her head bowed deeper into the mattress. The hard as a bloody rock mattress. Not only was she beaten—shadows marking her face and every inch of her body—but her one place of comfort would grant yet more torture.

My mind ran riot with who she called. Her father? Brother? Boyfriend? Who the fuck hadn’t been there for her when she finally had the opportunity to ask for help?

Don’t be such a fucking hypocrite.

I had no right to despise her past loved ones for not saving her when I was about to do exactly what all the men in her present had done. I should give her another chance—let her ring the police.

Be better than those who imprisoned her.

That thought ought to stop me.

But it wouldn’t.

Not after I’d touched her breast and my skin had detonated like the weapons I dealt in. I knew myself, and I knew my limits. I could walk away from other temptations before it grew too strong to be ignored. But I doubted I could walk away from her without taking what I needed.

“Sit up…,gir—Pim.” I fixed my mistake. When I’d called her ‘girl’ before, her ripple of indignation had given me a clue. She hated being owned but wanted to belong to a name.