his gaze focused for more than a nanosecond. Furiously, his mind worked, comprehending whatever stimuli flooded his thoughts.
Then it was gone.
He withdrew his gaze and continued on his path through the clearing, moving past the row of tables and ignoring the stares focused his way from both the guards and the girls. His men flanked him, one on each side, trailing slightly behind him like he was the king of this camp.
Or better yet…the boss.
After dinner and a shower, I sat on my bed while most of the girls were gathered near the fire, talking about the encounter with the man with the bomber jacket.
Petunia was a veteran of the camp, a three-year resident. Her life had changed forever when she took a different route home one night—and that was it. She was in her late twenties, strong and able-bodied, working hard every day to make sure she wasn’t next in line for the Red Snow. “He’s the boss. I’ve seen him a couple times.”
“The boss?” Irene had only been there a few months longer than I had. She was still being integrated into this new world of snow-covered cabins, of torchlight that lit the pathways to and from the clearing.
The most surprising aspect of the veteran girls was their acceptance. When weeks turned into months, when months turned into years, they molded to this new life, spending their time in the cabin reading their books, playing their games, like they had gotten off work after a long day and were spending the evening at home. There was no discussion of an uprising, of freedom. They didn’t even talk about the things they missed, their families and friends, the outside world that was just a few hundred miles away.
Raven could never be that way.
Not in months.
Not in years.
Not in a lifetime.
She would never forget the taste of pumpkin-flavored coffee in the fall, the lights of the Eiffel Tower, the picture of Mom on the coffee table in the living room, and she would never forget about me either…and the life I deserved.
A life she deserved more.
Petunia was in the rocking chair near the fire, drinking a mug of hot cocoa that her guard had given her. Some of the girls had special relationships with the guards, getting extra items through their obedience…or other things. Sometimes a guard would show up in the evening and escort the girls to another location for thirty minutes before he dropped her off again.
We all knew exactly why. We just never talked about it.
The only way I’d sleep with one of them was in exchange for freedom.
But freedom would never be an offer on the table.
Petunia spoke again. “He’s in charge of the camp.”
“How do you know that?” another woman asked.
Petunia shrugged. “You can just tell…”
She was right—you could totally tell.
Footsteps sounded outside the front door, heavy boots that announced a pair of guards had shown up to the cabin. It was normally one at a time, so this was unusual. The lock was undone, and then they stepped inside, scanning the room until his head faced my direction. His face was covered by the garb of the guards, so there was no way to discern his identity. Sometimes I could tell them apart based on their size and mannerisms, but I could never be certain.
But I was certain they were looking at me.
All the girls turned to follow his stare, to draw the same conclusion.
My body tightened in fear because I knew they were there for me, to take me away and remove my consent, to force my servitude in ways I refused to agree to. The fear was like acid in my stomach, but there was no escape from this. This was my punishment for my stupidity, for a situation that could have been easily avoided if I had just listened.
“Get your things.” He stopped at the foot of the bed.
I was still on the bed, still sitting with my knees pulled to my chest, unable to understand the request.
The other guard helped himself to my dresser and pulled out my belongings, which wasn’t much. He set my boots beside me and dropped my jacket over the bed so I could pull it on.
Then they both stared at me.
“W-w-why?”
The second guard scooped up my belongings into his chest and waited for my compliance.
The other just stared, but he never moved to touch me, to try to yank me to my feet and force my obedience, which was odd.
When I didn’t move, the first