SERENA
N
o matter how much I try to control my breathing, it feels like I’m suffocating. Panic has seized me and is refusing to let go. I hate this place, what it represents, and everyone inside it.
These men, the way they look at me like I’m nothing more than a piece of meat they can buy. I can’t look at them directly, but I can see them watching me out of the corner of my eye, and I can feel their predatory gaze on me. Like dogs, they salivate, waiting for a bone. It surely doesn’t help me that I’m wearing a scrap of fabric for clothing. Dante wanted me exposed and vulnerable, and here I am.
I think of Iris and his warning, and still, I can’t stop the panic from rising up. Even with her life hanging in the balance, I can’t comprehend him passing me off to someone else. God, was he se
