Sophia
...

20th March.

I never thought this day would come. Today is the day I finally step out into the world, leaving behind my home for the past eight years.

I'm free—well, almost.

That's what they want us to think when they let you go. A part of me is excited and happy, ready to welcome the life waiting behind these doors, but the other part is stuck on the bitter truth. This isn't freedom.

It's another cage all dressed up in sparkles and fake promises.

Ater my eighteenth birthparty, the girls bid me farewell, and I can see the admiration and envy in their eyes. I wonder if they know that this is not me really leaving the cartel; this is me being made to believe so.

I am settled in the back seat of the SUV, watching as Las Vegas comes into view before me.

At night, the city feels like it is its own universe, with the flood of neon lights. The Strip glows with all colors, casinos tower on either side of the street with their names blinking in the air.

The crowd moving around seems to be excited in each and every way. I wish I could feel that way without having to worry about the cartel's ties to me.

I roll down the window, just enough to get the air in and watch a couple of faces with smiles and laughing.

I find myself smiling.

Hope.

Hope is such a dangerous thing, but I dare to have it. Maybe this can be my home; maybe this can be a new start for me.

The sound of clicking glasses and the whirl of slot machines cut through my thoughts.

Dana, my designated bodyguard, is in the front seat with her hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

She was tasked with keeping an eye on me, to make sure I don't end up making reckless choices.

How dumb do they think I am? At this point, escaping has already left my mind. All that's left is to survive this.

I steal a glance at her in the rearview mirror. Her face is straight, expressionless, and she keeps her eyes on the road ahead. I wonder what she is thinking about.

"Good?" she asks when she catches me staring.

I nod, averting my gaze outside the window.

The rest of the drive is in silence. I don't look back at Dana because I know she will be staring back at me.

The building is shining in the jet-black sky. A welcomed change compared to the suffocating walls I grew up in. The glass walls catch a faint glow of the city lights and its own, making everything feel out of place and beautiful at the same time.

The lobby is a masterpiece of luxury. From its lavish marble floors that are so shiny they reflect the crystal chandelier above me, golden highlights spread across each frame and each column around the ceiling.

The walls are decorated in rich paneling—deep and polished, they almost look like mirrors. Between them hang huge, ornate mirrors that make the already big space feel larger.

There's a fresh scent of flowers in the air mixed with the subtle musk of expensive cologne.

I follow Dana to the elevator, who only gives the receptionist a short nod.

My heart is still pounding when we step in. I side glance at Dana, but she says nothing.

When we step out, we walk down a hallway spread with carpets and artwork. Confusing and simple altogether.

She stops in front of a door, pulls out a key card, and swipes us in. There's a huge space of a beautifully furnished apartment.

"Home sweet, home," Dana mumbles, closing the door behind me.

My eyes dance around the room in disbelief. The only word I can let out is "Wow," even when it comes out more choked.

The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the Strip. I can't help myself before I'm gliding my fingers over the smooth surfaces.

This is lavish but different compared to the fortress-like estate I grew up in. It has high stone walls lined with barbed wire and guards at the entrance. A constant reminder that even when we are in the castle, we are only there as prisoners.

The house itself is grand but cold, with tall iron gates that opened only for those who are free. Inside, the halls are wide, and the air is thick with constant tension. The doors are always shut, concealing secrets and whispered conversations.

The main living room has leather couches and dark wood furniture with a scent of cigars and whiskey.

Outside, there's a garden, beautiful and overshadowed by looming walls.

I grew to know every corner of the mansion, even in all the places and chambers we weren't allowed to enter until after we turned sixteen.

I knew all the dark spaces where the deals were being sealed and where another one of the girls would be sold to some filthy rich man or woman, and no one has a say in it.

But this is different; this feels new and exciting. I shove it down, though, a second later because there's the fear nagging at me.

"Are you okay?" I ask Dana when my eyes finally land on her looking stony.

“Are you?” she replies in her cold tone, and I know this conversation is not going anywhere.

I let out a sigh, walking to the shiny kitchen area. "Is there food? I'm starving," I ask, opening the double door fridge.

The fridge is empty, save for bread, eggs and water.

"I will order pizza," Dana says; it's not a suggestion, it's a command. There's no: are you good with pizza or would you like anything else?

Surprisingly, the delivery doesn't take more than twenty minutes; apparently, there's a pizza place downstairs across the street.

Dana sits across from me at the island table. We eat in silence until I can't take it anymore. I need to talk.

"So, what's the plan?" I ask, my eyes locking on the light scar across Dana's right cheek. I wonder what happened to her, but it's not like she can tell me.

Dana huffs, like she is using too much energy to talk.

"We’ll start working on your profile and socials, a whole new life to set up. The cartel expects you to earn money as soon as you can. This isn’t a vacation."

I swallow, reality coming back to me. I may be out of the castle, but they still have control over me. The excitement from earlier fades into anxiety.

"Are you really okay with this?” I push. "I mean, doesn’t it bother you?"

Her gaze shifts to her pizza as she grimaces. "It’s my job, Sophia. Just stay out of trouble; then you and I won't have issues."

I nod.

After dinner, I wander over to the window, staring down at the lights of the Strip. The city is amazing, but I know it’s a front, covering the cruelty behind it.

"Get some rest; we have so much work to do tomorrow," Dana says. "And you're likely to meet clients immediately; make a good impression."

I turn to her. “What if I don’t want to?”

Dana scoffs at my guts. “You really think you have a choice?"

Her words sting. She is right; I don't have a choice. This is what they released me for, to make them money like they taught us to. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Your room is down the hall to your right," Dana says, looking at her phone screen. When she looks up, she says, "Frank has a message for you."

I swallow, walking over to peer at her phone.

Frank: Remember, Sophia, you’re mine. Don’t forget who owns you.

I nod like he can see me.

I am not free. Not really. Never will be.

...