Chapter 1
POV: Coral
Discovering the sleeping pills made me suspicious, and I bided my time, waiting for the voices to fade in the foyer.
Once I heard Mr. Dixon’s study door closing, I sent my mind to the study. I can’t quite explain how I do it – it’s like I give my mind a nudge and guide it to where I want it to be. It’s as if I’m there, even when I’m not. Most people are oblivious to my presence, but some have a sixth-sense or an awareness and can feel me, even if they can’t see me. My mom used to call it “Remote-Viewing.” I prefer to think of it as a unique form of eavesdropping.
There was another man in the room, as short as Mr. Dixon. His brown hair and goatee were meticulously groomed. His eyes were narrow-set and deep. He exuded an air of danger, the kind that should send any girl running in the opposite direction.
“I can’t afford any mistakes with this one; I already have a buyer,” the man said. “And let’s not take her the same way we did the last one – she almost escaped.”
“Hmm, how about you take her during the night? I will make sure Harriet administers the regular sleeping pills for the girls, and we’ll give her a double dose that should render her practically comatose.” Mr. Dixon suggested.
My blood ran cold.
“That might work,” the man said thoughtfully. “Although I don’t like to be seen in your area.”
Mr. Dixon picked up his whiskey and took a big sip; I could almost smell the vile stuff.
“Coral is a very special girl, and I hate to bring this up, but the price for her is quite a bit higher than you paid for the last one. So, I need confirmation that you can afford her before we make arrangements.” The man turned and glowered at Mr. Dixon. “What can I say?” Mr. Dixon’s hands came up, almost in apology, “I have other interested parties.”
I was on the verge of losing focus when I heard my name. They were discussing me. Oh my god, they were planning to sell me. I knew the Dixons were shady, but this was beyond anything I could have imagined! I fought to maintain my focus, my heart pounding in my chest and bile rising in my throat. I struggled to calm myself, desperate not to miss any more of their conversation.
“………. renegotiate, don’t you think?”
“Not really,” Mr. Dixon said casually. “It’s …………. a partnership.”
“Fine, ………. price, but if you think you can up ………….. girl I buy, you are very much mistaken,” the man snapped.
I gritted my teeth and steeled myself, focusing my intent. I had to know their plans; my life depended on it! An icy calm stole over me.
“I don’t suppose you have any idea how much it costs to keep these girls healthy and fit? Call it inflation, if you will,” Mr. Dixon said.
“Please give me some credit. I know how much the state reimburses you.” The man scowled, his brows almost meeting in the middle of his forehead.
“If the money is in my account tomorrow, the girl is yours.” Mr. Dixon said with finality. Rising from his chair, he handed the man a piece of paper.
The man swiped it from Mr. Dixon’s hand and held it. I tried to read it, but I got too close, and he turned his head as if he felt my presence; I moved back hastily.
He glanced back down on the paper and snarled. “Fucking daylight robbery!”
“So, do we have a deal?” Mr. Dixon asked calmly.
“This time, yes. I will collect her on the night of her eighteenth birthday. Best you make sure everything is in order.” I could hear the underlying anger in his voice, so I assumed Mr. D was charging an exorbitant sum.
Anger and outrage filled me. How dare they? I couldn’t stay any longer. The emotional turmoil drew my mind back to my body at lightning speed. I hugged my knees and closed my eyes, breathing deeply.
I had been at the Dixon Home for Teenage Girls for two years. Despite having a living relative, the courts ruled in favor of the Home, stating three reasons. First, my aunt was too young—she was only nineteen when my mom died. Second, she lived in a bachelor’s apartment and did not earn enough money to afford a larger place. Third, she worked shifts.
It was ironic because my mother didn’tearn enough money, and we’d lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment, not to mention in the worst area in town. My aunt Liz tried to contest the ruling, but without a large sum of money, no lawyer was prepared to take the case. Aunt Liz had moved across the state, and even though she had promised to write, I hadn’t received a single letter, and had no way of contacting her, and wondered whether the Dixons had withheld my letters.
Derry, my best friend, hadn’t been mentioned, but I feared the worst from the conversation. We were only six months apart and had planned to live together when I turned eighteen, but she never came back. I knew then that something was off. Derry would never have forsaken me.
Thinking back on it now, none of the girls ever needed more than one day to find a job. When I returned from school, the girls were permanently gone, and new arrivals took their place.
The feeling that something terrible happened to Derry kept me constantly on edge. Plus, it was unreasonable that every girl found a job so quickly, wasn’t it?
After that, I remote-viewed all the time, spying on the Dixons, but Derry was never mentioned. I used my ability to track her, sending my mind into the streets of Emberg and eventually Havelton. I never sent my mind out so far, but it was just as easy as doing it in the Home.
Restless and worried, I sent my mind out, skimming over Emberg and into Havelton, trying not to think about what awaited me. It was late, and the streets of Havelton were quiet. I zoomed toward a lit-up hotel and read the sign – Hiberion. Curiosity made me zoom into the lobby. The elevator pinged, and a man walked out.
I’d never seen someone so tall, at least six foot five, with short dark brown hair that was almost black. Intense hazel eyes framed by perfect eyebrows. He had a square jaw with a slight scar across one corner of his full upper lip, making him look dangerous. My heart accelerated as I watched him walk across the lobby to reception, entranced by the breadth of his shoulders, his suit jacket slung across one. Shirt sleeves folded up, exposing broad wrists and muscular forearms. Divine proportions was the thought that popped into my head. So handsome and self-assured. I felt drawn to him and moved closer. His head snapped in my direction, and I was hit by an aura so powerful it sent a shiver down my spine.
I moved away quickly as he could clearly sense me and I slammed back into my body.
The trip had sapped my energy slightly, but my mother’s warnings were the furthest thing from my mind—desperate times called for desperate measures.
I considered my options. I had three days to come up with an escape plan.
