Daring

Chapter 1

"Let go of me! You're mistaken," I say, trying to sound convincing.

I'm standing there, pinned against the wall of an old brick building.

"Oh, come on. You came here," he nods in the direction of the girls of the oldest profession, who stand a few dozen meters away from us and pretend to see nothing, "so you came here for one purpose. Tell me, who you're working beneath?"

"I'm not a whore!"

"Oh, don't want to talk nicely? You decided to make some extra money quietly, not paying for the protection. Dressed up like a hobo, thought we wouldn't notice you?" he looks at me from head to toe with an appraising glance.

Actually, I thought no one would notice me.

"I was just taking a walk. I didn't know this is... your territory. Let me go, and you'll never see me again."

"Yeah, right, you can daydream. First you give me what you've earned," the man hovers over me. Breathing on me. I turn away. He reeks of tobacco.

"I'm not who you think I am," I whine pitifully. "And anyway, I'm underage!" I throw away my biggest bargaining chip.

And it's okay that I'll be eighteen in a few days. He doesn't need to know that.

The man hums. A smug grin appears on his face.

"Then, darling, you'll be worth twice as much on the black market. Maybe would you also like to tell me that you're a virgin?" he arches an eyebrow sceptically.

What I had previously considered my trump card, the advantage that had saved me many times before, was suddenly an argument not in my favor. Neither my appearance as an unwashed brat, calculated to scare away hungry men and dirty perverts wasn't an argument.

Apparently, hiding on the Red-Light street from my guardian was not my best idea. I hoped he wouldn't find me here. And he hadn't before. Now I pray in my head that he will.

I try to slip under the man's arm. I move forward, the hood falls off my head and I find myself caught by my hair.

It hurts!

I scream and grab my hands around his ones, trying to ease the pain.

"Don't, please," I beg, "Man, let me go."

"What's the matter?" I hear an unfamiliar man's voice. "Can't you handle a whore anymore?" he's laughing.

"Shut up," the one who holds me growls through his teeth, "and help me get her in the car. I'll explain on the way."

They drag me by the hair to the car. When we get to the car, I start resisting even more desperately, realizing that it will only be harder to escape. I twist myself around and manage to bite the offender's hand. In retaliation, he squeezes my hair with such force that I involuntarily begin to howl. He grabs my wrist and pulls it behind my back, not caring how much it hurts.

The man lets go of my hair and pushes me into the car, continuing to hold on to my wrist. It hurts like hell, and there's no way to resist. Not in this position, gritting my teeth in pain and being bent in half.

After pushing me inside, the man continues to hold me and sits down himself. He only lets me go when the other one gets behind the wheel and blocks the doors. I immediately turn to face him, find support with my back and hit the man with both feet, aiming for his face.

But my punch misses the target.

He manages to duck, intercepts my legs, and piles on top of me with his whole body, catching my hands and squeezing my wrists. He looks up into my face, grinning like a predator.

"Where did you pick up such a wild kitty?" smirks the one behind the wheel.

"On the street. She was standing not far from our girls. Either she works quietly, or the competitors slipped us her," he continues to hold me and look me in the face. "That's what we have to find out, because our boss wouldn't be satisfied with either one."

"I'm not working," I hiss to him back. "I was just... waiting for a friend."

"Yeah, and not for the first time. Only I didn't see a friend. But I could see your wary eyes, like you were hiding something. It doesn't matter, though. You could be worth a lot of money," his eyes flash dreamily. I can just see the coins flickering around in there, like in a slot machine. "First you need to wash off the dirt," he wrinkles squeamishly.

He runs his hand under my shapeless jacket, trying to touch my chest. There's the same baggy sweater, which prevents him from reaching his goal. With his other hand, he continues to hold on my wrists tightly. I won't let anyone paw my treasure. I've been saving myself not for this filthy bastard.

My teeth come in handy. I lean forward and with all my wildness, I bite the scoundrel's ear.

"You crazy bitch!" he yells, grabbing his ear. And then he smacks me across the face with his palm.

It hurts! Shit.

He stopped groping me, though. You gotta look on the bright side.

My aggression seemed to be working. The man recoiled from me, examining his palm, where blood droplets are visible. I hide in the corner with my legs tucked under me and my arms around them. I look at him sullenly when the man pulls out his phone and calls someone.

"Boss, here's the thing," he starts, looking at me, "we caught a girl on our street. Who she is and who she belongs to, we don't know. She looks like a stray, derelict... It's not the first time I've seen her on our street... Yeah. Got it. Anyway, we bagged her, and we're taking her to the warehouse. Can you send an appraiser...? Yeah, okay. I've got it."

I'm the derelict one? What do they call me, some kind of puppy?! And what appraiser were they talking about?

I know one thing. This conversation and the whole situation don't bode well for me. I have to run before it's too late. I can't get out of the car, so there is only one option left: as soon as they take me out of the car, make a run for it at all costs.