Prologue
I Left Them
Evelyn Snow
Paris,Four Years Ago
Smoke.
I smelled smoke before I heard the alarms, but I wasn’t sure if it was all in my mind. Lots of things were all in my mind lately.
Legs. My legs felt wobbly as I tried to run—as I tried to wake the other girls.
Door. The door was unguarded. The men who usually stood by the front door, armed and large, were gone.
Push. I pushed the door open, and the sun nearly blinded me. I didn’t realize it was daytime. I’d been napping—and the windows were sealed shut and painted black.
Arms. I’d spread my arms as the sun kissed my skin, my exposed legs, my arms. I looked down. I was wearing a negligee.
I didn’t care.
Grinning, I spin around in circles, basking in the moment of freedom. I know it won’t last—it never does—but I’ve learned to appreciate these pockets of serenity for what they are. They were necessary to my survival—kisses from heaven when I needed them the most.
The other girls come out, some naked, some too drugged up to walk. Those girls crawl, and my heart lurches. I should help them.
I should help them, and then I should run.
The shrill alarm sears my mind, the burning getting stronger. I cover my ears and sit down in the middle of the road, rocking back and forth, waiting for the noise to end.
Waiting for all of it to end.
I barely notice the rough fingers on my arms.
I don’t comprehend the whispers, the shouts, the car tires and screeches.
Someone throws a blanket around me even though it’s so,sohot out.
“Get in the car, Evelyn.” My eyes snap open, meeting the dark, pooling irises of a younger man who’s looking at me with a mix of pity and urgency. “Get in. Now,” he orders, reaching out but stopping himself.
He doesn’t want to touch me. Who could blame him?
I look over at the light blue car—his car, I assume.
He called me Evelyn.Not Eve.
“Please,” he whispers, looking behind me. “I am getting you out of this shithole.”
And suddenly, the scene before me becomes very clear.
The complete and utter chaos.
The screaming, yelling, the lack of guards as they try to control the situation.
The man before me, so familiar. A stranger. But—not a stranger. He knew my name.
“Lily wants you to get in the car,” he adds, his eyes pleading.
Lily.
