Owned by the devil I Didn't choose

Chapter 4- Sold Without A Price

The doors finally opened after what felt like an eternity.

This time, it was not the twins who came in, but two men in black suits—built like bricks. They loosened my shackles only to replace them with handcuffs, as if that were some kind of mercy.

“Stand up ma'am,” one of them said.

"Where are you taking me?” I asked. He pulled me up without saying a word. They dragged me out of the place and I continued talking.

“Please just tell me,” I said, trying to coax even a scrap of information out of them.

“Shut up and walk,” the man snapped.

I stopped asking questions and focused on mapping everything. They dragged me forward, and the space opened up into a mansion so polished it felt unreal. A massive chandelier hung overhead, dripping gold and crystal, its light spilling across marble floors that reflected every step we took. The walls were lined with black-and-white paintings—abstract, sharp, unsettling—art that looked expensive but cold.

The staircase split into two elegant curves, its railings smooth beneath the guards’ hands as they pushed me forward. Cameras were embedded discreetly into corners, near arches, above doorframes—so well-hidden that only someone trained to look would notice them.

The deeper we went, the quieter it became. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and something warmer beneath it—like clean linen or expensive cologne—an unsettling contrast to the violence I’d come from. It felt wrong, standing in a place so beautiful while knowing what it was built to hide.

The room they led me into was nothing like I expected.

The walls were painted a soft cream, warm and calm, the kind of color meant to soothe. A king-sized bed sat at the center, its dark wooden frame solid and imposing, layered with crisp sheets that looked untouched. The lighting was low and deliberate, casting gentle shadows instead of harsh ones, as if the room had been designed to make people forget where they were.

A vanity stood near the wall, stocked with perfumes and brushes, and beside it, a tall mirror.

The carpet beneath my feet was thick, muffling sound, making the space feel private in a way that made my skin crawl.

Then I saw the clothes.

They were laid out carefully on the bed, one after another, arranged with intention. Dresses in dark shades- silk and lace- heels placed neatly beside them.

That was when the room stopped feeling warm and started feeling like a cage.

“What am I doing here?” I asked.

“You are to get ready for your big night.” Axel said, making his way to the door. Before leaving, he added in español,

“No pongas una mano sobre ella o la jefa te mataría.”(Don’t lay a hand on her or the boss will kill you.)

The door locked behind him.

Alex stayed.

“You are going to be the star of the show tonight.” she said.

“What show?” I asked, confused and curious. Anger set in a little when she said her next words,

“ You will find out in due time,” she said, moving closer, walking round me like a predator.When I didn’t move, her lip twitched. Without warning, her hand caught the fabric at my shoulder and ripped. The sound was loud in the room — cloth tearing, leaving me in my underwear.

“What did you do?” I whispered, trying to cover myself as the cold settled in. She only laughed,

“I will pick you up in 5 minutes, princess.” She left.

I was left alone. I had to get ready. I tried looking for the bathroom and when I found it, I brushed my teeth and took a long cold shower I didn't know I needed. I stayed under the shower a little longer. I had to think about my next steps. I couldn’t try to escape, it would only make things worse for Anna.

Anna's words came rushing back into my mind and the video. It's true.

I lost myself after our parents died. I have had to take care since then. Survival has become my identity.

I heard a laugh in my head,

“ Why are you laughing?” I asked the voice in my head,

“You can’t get rid of me,” the voice replied. “I’m you.” I blocked the voice out as I heard a loud noise coming from outside.

“Are you done princess,” Alex said, “Time's ticking.” I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around myself. I studied my reflection in the mirror as I stepped out —pale, thinner than I remembered. I turned to check out the outfits. I picked them up one after the other. They all looked like my size so I threw one on. The black dress clung to my body, dangerous in the way it revealed too much and promised worse.

I tied my hair back and stepped out.

I walked out of the room and Alex. Her eyes gave me a slow once over.

“ Damn,” she whistled “You look sexy,” I rolled my eyes and said nothing.

“Follow me,” she said as she started to walk. I did as I was told. We got outside, the air bit into my skin.

“Hop on.” Alex said. The door of a black jeep was opened. I entered. Inside the jeep, the windows were tinted black. The engine hummed steadily, lulling. Streetlights passed like brief flashes of another life — one I could no longer reach. I tried to stay awake, but exhaustion dragged me under.

When I woke, the first thing I noticed was the noise — bass vibrating through metal, laughter too loud to be real. The air smelled different here. Sour. Sweet. Alive in the wrong way.

“We’re here,” Alex said, standing beside the already opened door. The place was filthy. Loud. Men surrounded by women, money exchanged like breath. We finally stopped when we got to the back hallway. It was narrow and dim, lit by flickering bulbs. The walls were painted a tired red, chipped in places, stained in others. Curtains hung loosely.

The smell hit me next — alcohol, sweat, cheap perfume layered over something underneath rotten. Music thumped through the walls, distorted and relentless, vibrating through my bones.

Girls moved past us, some laughing too loudly, others silent, eyes dull, fingers nervously adjusting straps and hems. No one looked surprised to see me. That was the worst part.

“This is your new job,” Alex said, “Felicia, the new girl is here.” She left without another glance.

.

The woman who approached was slim, her dress clinging like it had been worn too many times. Her bob framed her face neatly, but her eyes told the truth.

“You're pretty,” she said, “ They would like you a lot.”.

I frowned, “They?”

She hesitated, just for a second, then sighed as if correcting an oversight “Alex didn’t tell you what your job was,” she said.

““You’ll dance,” she continued. “Entertain. Whatever they ask. Prostitute, stripper—call it what you want.”

This had to be a joke.

This wasn’t a job.

It was ownership.