The Unfortunates (Unfortunate #1) (2 page)

The gates begin to pull open with a loud clank and creak. I inch forward in my seat, eager to see the wide world—eager to see if the grass is greener on the other side. In here, the grass is a pale green and only exists in random patches of spiky blades, but out there, I’m sure it’s a vast wonderland of beautiful greenery. Inch by inch the gates expose the world to me. I see the bright green grass, looking more like clouds than blades
, and I want to lay in them, to feel them on my skin. Excitement bubbles in my chest and I even contemplate diving from the cart just to feel them on my feet. I quickly glance at the other girls to see if they’re as eager as me… they’re not. All of them have their sad, grey eyes on the rotted floor of the cart and Thirteen clenches her ribs beside me, sniffling still.

“Why aren’t you looking?” I whisper to her. “Look at the grass.”

She shakes her head and mumbles back, “I don’t care for grass.”

She doesn’t care for grass? That’s because she hasn’t seen real grass. “If you just look up an inch you’ll se
e—”

“Why are you so happy, Nine?” Seven snaps at me.

I glance at her. She looks so little and sickly in her bright green dress. Her long, red locks curl around her breasts and she swats a thick lock out of her face. “We’re being sold today. There are a lot more important things to worry about than grass.”

My eyes narrow. Sure, this is a bad situation. This sucks, I know it does, I’m experiencing it too, but it’s not all bad. When you’re racking up losses, count your wins too because they make the losses seem less intimidating.

“We haven’t been sold yet, might as well enjoy the last few minutes of freedom,” I tell her. “The grass is worth a second of your time.”

She folds her stick thin arms over her chest. “We’ll see how much you like the grass when your Fortunate forces you to eat a mouthful of it while he rapes you from behind.”

I open my mouth, ready to expel a witty retort, but I snap it shut instead. These girls aren’t my enemy. It’s not their fault they’re broken. Most of them already are by the time they leave here. I wouldn’t say I’m broken… I’ve always had hope. I can’t put it into words… but I know I see the world in a way that is all my own. One night, a little while ago when I was lying awake alone in bed, I decided I didn’t want to be an Unfortunate for the rest of my life. I don’t want to be a Fortunate, either. I want to be human and I want to be equal with every other human—and animal. That’s that. These girls are broken because they see their life laid out for them, like robes on the end of their beds. Not me. With every second that passes, I have the feeling something great is going to happen to me. This is not my purpose, I tell myself over and over. The thought lingers on my shoulder like a repetitive parrot, echoing the same words. I go back to looking at the grass and make mental notes of all of the different shades, promising to come back and touch each and every single one.

We leave the gates and ride along
the concrete path. As the realisation sets in, I get it and I drop my eyes to the floor of the cart. I follow a small crack from one rusty nail to the other. I shouldn’t celebrate this day or force others to enjoy it with me because just over the next hill is our destination—an entire city filled with the humans we are forced to serve.

This is not my purpose. My mind chides me again and I nod my head subtly. It might not be my purpose in the long ru
n, but for now it’s all I have.

Chapter Two

Nine

The large, wrought iron gates of the town open and allow us through. The town is caged behind a fence for the same reason the Unfortunate camp is, to prevent us from running. Even the Fortunates live like prisoners, closed off from the outside world to keep what they believe they’re owed. I wonder how many Unfortunates have run? I wonder how many have successfully broken out of here and never looked back? We are situated—on two separate hills up high away from the thick forest to the left and the never ending abyss of sand and water to the right. They couldn’t have made it too far and the chance of them surviving on their own is slim to none, and yet, I still envy them. I wonder if they’ve slept under the stars at night or napped under the shade of a tree during the day... I’d die happy if I could do that at least once in my life.

The horses pull us through
the very outskirts of Freeport (how ironic). I’ve never been to the town before—obviously—and strangely, I find the clacking of the horse shoes over the cobblestone pavement soothing. After a solid ten seconds in the town, I can no longer keep my eyes on the dull cart and I let them flick all over the place—over the impossibly tall skyscrapers in the distance and over the Fortunates in their fine suits and pretty gowns that spatter the walkway. They stare back at me, admiring me closely. It hits me then that I’ve never been in the presence of a Fortunate before and seeing them so close is absolutely terrifying. I quickly drop my gaze, remembering one of the many, many rules that govern how I live my life. Don’t make eye contact with a Fortunate unless they address you directly. I’m quite curious by nature—even more so now I’m looking at something other than a dull brick wall or scuffed floor boards. In class, they told us that curiosity is wrong and will get us killed. Personally, I don’t see the harm in it.

The air is warm, offering a very nice medium between hot and cold. I peer through large s
hop windows and see Unfortunates in their plain, worn tunics running stores—all with tired looks on their faces. I wonder if I’ll be sent to the town to work? I’d like that, to be out and about and in charge of something.

We pass through the
almost rural outskirts quickly and the closer we draw to the large estates behind it, the more nervous the other girls seem. My stare flicks over each of them. Water wells in most of their eyes—some even sob—but I’m not going to show weakness. The Fortunates are a dominating bunch. They like fear—they crave it, probably live off it, and these girls will be chosen before I am.

The rude redhead seems to have
the same idea as me. She’s hunched into herself, her arms still crossed over her chest. She remains firm, her eyes not betraying whatever emotion she feels inside.

The estates begin to loom over us and we travel clos
er to the one in the middle. Its large brick structure with thick, white columns that seem to bear the weight of the building stand out to me. Carved into the stone is a picture of the side of a lion’s face—Sario—one of the leading Fortunate families. I swallow hard. This family goes through slaves quicker than any other. Class taught me that the father lives in the city and his two sons run the household. I shudder at the thought of why they go through so many slaves. Flashes of girls screaming while the fat, greedy men beat and rape them assault my mind and I quickly push it from thought.
I won’t let that be me.

Soyer stops the cart an
d leaps off the top, hitting the ground with a thud. He slowly turns toward us, his lips curling into a wide, evil grin as his creepy, brown irises zero in on us. “Get out and line up at the door.”

I’
m first to exit the cart and I force my chin up on a slightly proud angle. It’s a cover to trick them. Deep down, I fight the urge to cower in the corner of the cart and hide from everything. On the other side of those large, wooden doors our selection is waiting, our future.

I trail up the dark, square tiles and walk up the three wide ste
ps. Every time my foot connects with the concrete step, my heart thuds.
Boom. Boom. Boom
. I stop in front of the doors. I’m so close I can smell the lacquer. I hold my breath, but the smell forces its way through my nostrils and assaults my senses. I hope I get assigned anywhere
but
this house
.
My eyes stay locked on the head of the black lion carved flawlessly into the wood. It quickly reminds me who I am and who these people are.
Predators and prey…

It seems I filled my own head with
fairy-tales between the camp and here.
Please don’t let this become my home.
We’re told the Sarios are the most brutal, the most unsympathetic, hard to handle family out of them all. If that’s true, I might just entertain the idea of suicide if I’m chosen to live here.

I feel the other girls line up behind me, but I don’t
dare look over my shoulder in fear of betraying my own emotions. I hear the heavy lock of the door shift and my teeth chatter together once, twice, three times before I clench my jaw to stop it. The doors pull open and my eyes immediately fall onto the Unfortunates that hold the large, brass handles. They avoid making eye-contact with us and it puts me on edge. I eye their nice crisp, white tunics. I have to admit, they look healthy. They look well-fed and looked after, and for a brief moment, I wonder if the Sarios are as bad as everyone makes out… I peel my gaze from the Unfortunates and onto the wide, marble staircase in front of me. A man—an important looking man—leans against one of its elegant rails.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Soyer.” He stalks down a few steps, reminding me nothing of the brave lion on the door and more of a sly wolf. “They’re all gorgeous.”

Behind me, I hear a whimper. Whoever it is, they need to get their emotions in check before they’re swiftly dealt with. Don’t stand out and get a job in the kitchen. That’s my plan.

“How many do you need,
Michael? I thought I’d let you have first choice.”

Michael
rubs the palm of his hand over his stomach like he’s contemplating his next meal…
definitely a wolf
. “Two, I need two. If it was for me, I’d pick the redhead…”

His dark, grey eyes flick over us one by one until his eyes settle on me.
Painful tendrils of dread burrow in my chest.
Don’t look at me
, I urge him.
Don’t pick me!
His slimy gaze slides down the length of my body and I grit my teeth against a scowl.

“My son, however, prefers—” Michael’s
eyes flit to my breasts and I almost cringe. “Darker haired girls.”

He descends the last fe
w steps. The next few strides swallow the distance between us and places him right in my face. My heart races, pounding relentlessly in my ears. “Tell me, Unfortunate, do you know how to please a man?”

I swallow hard an
d shake my head. None of us do—at least I think none of us do. “No, sir.”

How humiliating. I don’t want to be called out
in front of everyone. He eyes the brunette next to me and I almost sag in relief, until his stare drops to her chest before returning disinterestedly to her face.

“You’ll do just fine for Master Kade
,” he says to me. My heart stops cold as tears sting my eyes. “You’ll make him happy, I’m sure.”

“It’s his twenty-fifth birthday
already?” Soyer wonders aloud.

Michael
nods. “It’s gone quickly. I’ll take this one—” His swollen, warm fingers grip my shoulder and he pulls me into him. My stomach sinks and I bite my tongue against a cringe. I go with it, not daring to fight against him—not when Soyer has his index finger rested casually against the trigger of his rifle. He flicks a lock of my hair over my shoulder to read the number behind my ear. “Nine.” My skin crawls at my name falling from his lips. “Yes, you’ll be the perfect first Unfortunate for him—you’ll satisfy all of his needs.”

First
slave? All of his needs?
The words ring through my mind and panic threatens to sink in and take over. No, that can’t be right. I told him, I told him I’ve never ‘pleased’ anyone before—hell, I’ve never pleased myself before. First slaves are the direct right hand to a Fortunate. They handle most errands, attend most parties, and handle any request from their Fortunate, both in and out of the bedroom. No other Fortunate can tell a first slave what to do unless given permission from the owning Fortunate. My sinking stomach tightens as I recall my training… reciting it like a text book.

“Don’t worry, slave
.” Soyer chuckles, bringing my quivering bottom lip to attention. I purse my lips. “Master Kade is quite the leader. I’m sure he’ll show you exactly what he likes.”

Michael
mumbles his agreement and releases me, pushing me to the side. I almost sink to the ground. I can handle dishes, clothes, and dusting, but sex? Pleasure? I wouldn’t know where to start and when to finish. I force myself to stand still and strong with my hands behind my back, like I was taught, and I think I manage to conceal my inner distress.

“I’ll take the blonde, too.”

I glance at Thirteen from underneath my brow. She’s shaking—her entire body trembling as she bites her lip to prevent herself from crying. Poor girl. She did everything she could to not get picked.

“We need more kitchen staff
and you remind me of honey soaked pancakes.”

Soye
r shoves Thirteen and she jolts forward, running the rest of the way to me. She stands beside me, her body shaking slower now. She’s content with her position, and why wouldn’t she be? She didn’t have to ‘please’ one of the infamous Sarios. Michael turns on his heel and heads for the stairs. “Nine, come.”

Without hesitation or a glance over my sh
oulder, I follow him with feigned confidence in my steps. I don’t want them to think I’m weak. I don’t want them to have a reason to torment me. I’ll do my job. I’ll serve Master Kade and do whatever he wants me to do. It’ll be easier on me if I detach myself from my body, too. It isn’t mine anymore… Kade is undoubtedly going to destroy any love I have for it with his hands and other parts of his anatomy. While Michael’s back is turned, I run the palm of my hands over my hips and across my belly.

Well,
I guess this is goodbye, old friend.