Chapter 2

Damon suddenly lunged forward, grabbed the collector by the collar, and threw a punch.

"You son of a bitch!"

The collector's cheek flushed red. He spat out a mouthful of blood and glared at us.

"You little brat —"

He raised a hand. A group of men flooded in, seized Damon's arms, and started beating him.

Damon curled up on the floor, covering his head, taking the kicks.

The collector grabbed my chin, his eyes burning.

"You don't want your boyfriend beaten to death, do you? Just agree to stay at the Wolf's Den, and I'll let him go!"

Watching their seamless performance, I felt a stone on my chest. I couldn't breathe.

I had felt Damon's love. I knew I had.

When he confessed, his shaking hands told me how serious he was.

The three meals he made me every day during exam season. The pill case he sorted out because he knew my stomach hurt. The notebook on his phone full of our little moments.

Even the time we were abroad and the earthquake hit, his first move was to pull me into his arms.

Every piece was proof he loved me.

But now all of it had changed. I went through every memory and still couldn't figure out why.

Damon saw my face shift and gave the collector a look.

The collector pretended he had somewhere to be and hurried his men out of the room.

"You think about this hard!"

Damon walked over and pulled me into his arms. He kissed the top of my head.

"Anya, I know this has been hell for you. If you can't do it anymore, I'll drop everything and go earn the money myself."

I pulled a smile across my mouth. He knew perfectly well that I cared most about him finishing his studies. And still he said this?

I snatched his phone off the table and threw it at him.

"Young Alpha Sterling, haven't you acted enough?"

Damon's face froze for a second. Then he recovered.

"You — you know?"

I pushed him off and walked out. When I got home I dragged out the suitcase from the back of the closet.

Three years, and all my clothes didn't even fill half a suitcase. I searched everywhere before I realized the amber pendant my mother left me was still in the changing room at the Wolf's Den.

Once I had my things, I took one look around the place I knew so well. The closet was full of the clothes I wore to work.

Not a single dress reached past the knee. Not a single top hid what was under it.

The Wolf's Den pulled in every kind of man, and when they drank they wanted to try new things.

More than once a man had yanked me into a booth. His eyes crawled all over me like he wanted to swallow me whole.

I had to grit my teeth and work my way out of his grip, and the price was draining the bottle he slid across the table.

I tipped my head back, pressed the bottle to my mouth, and the cold liquor burned down my throat until my eyes watered.

I had to watch for hands under the table too.

It was over now. I picked up my suitcase and stood up.

"Anya!"

Damon grabbed my wrist, his eyes dark.

"Where are your clothes? Why are they gone?"

I lifted my head and met his eyes.

"I don't want you anymore, Damon."

Something in that set him off. He rushed me and tore the suitcase out of my hand.

"Who said you could leave?"

The case hit the floor. Everything inside scattered across the ground.

Damon froze at the sight of the two little carved wooden figures we had made together.

I had dragged him to make them on our first anniversary. He had carved the face of mine carefully, line by line.

"The shop owner said if the figure looks like me, I'll always be by your side."

The light in his eyes that day — I still remembered it clearly.

A boy's loving look lined up with the hatred on his face now.

He surged forward and grabbed my shoulders and shouted into my face.

"Anya! I loved you too! You — you're the one who wrecked this. You're the one who owes me!"

My stomach was already aching. He shook me and the nausea climbed up my throat. Broken words cut through: I owed him.

I had given him everything. What could I owe him?

In the end I threw up all over the floor, and that jerked Damon back to himself.

He looked at me, his eyes red.

"Anya! You can't leave!"

I beat my chest, trying to breathe, and I thought about all the sick men in the Wolf's Den — the ones whose crawling hands I had to grab and laugh off while I pushed their orders.

Because I sold a lot, people resented me, and they talked about me behind my back.

"She only sells drinks, not her body? Who'd believe that? Thinks she's a saint."

"Please. Don't flatter her. Who knows what she's doing in private. Shameless —"

Someone had dropped a roach in my water glass. Someone poured alcohol into my toner. My things went missing every few days.

The more I thought about it, the harder it hit me, and in the end I opened my mouth and cried.

Damon froze. He started to lift a hand. A woman's voice came from the doorway.

"Damon, are you done yet? All these men keep staring at me. I'm scared."

Damon was possessive. He could never stand another man looking at Serena.

But what he didn't know was that every day I was here I endured exactly that, and Damon hadn't helped me. He had helped them drug me and take pictures.