"In a few days, we'll have what we need, and she'll be gone."

The rain pounded against my skin, each icy drop another reminder that I was running late - again. My muscles screamed in protest as I pushed myself harder, lungs burning with every desperate breath.

But physical pain was nothing compared to what waited for me if I didn't make it on time.

The memory of my last "punishment" sent phantom aches through my body; I'd spent a week sleeping on my stomach, biting my pillow to keep from crying out whenever I moved.

I slowed near Dad's office, trying to catch my breath without making a sound.

That's when I heard her - my stepmother's sugary-sweet voice, the one she only used when she wanted something from my father.

"Richard, honey... just think, we won't have to deal with her anymore."

My heart skipped a beat. The way she said it - like I was nothing more than yesterday's garbage - made my stomach turn. I knew that tone. It was the same one she used right before something terrible happened to me.

What were they planning?

I shouldn't listen. God knows what they'd do if they caught me. But I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but strain to hear more.

"...they'll take her off our hands, and we'll get paid for it."

My whole body went cold. Were they... were they planning to sell me?

"Tick tock, little Rose. Late again."

Brandon's voice slithered down my spine like ice water. I whirled around to face my stepbrother, hating how his grey eyes crawled over my rain-soaked clothes. That predatory gaze made me feel dirty, exposed. He'd been looking at me that way since I was fourteen - like I was something to devour. The only thing that had protected me was my stepmother's greed; she needed the money I brought in from my jobs too much to let him touch me.

Not that it stopped him from finding other ways to torment me.

The voices in the office went silent. My heart stopped - they'd heard him.

"Scarlett!"

Dad's voice - hard and cold as steel - made me flinch. I fought the urge to run, knowing Brandon would only drag me back. He lived for moments like this, watching me get "disciplined." The sick satisfaction in his smile made my skin crawl as he reached past me to open the door.

I was trapped. Again. Like always.

I drew in a shaky breath, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. Years of survival had taught me exactly how not to act in moments like this.

"Father..." My voice came out small, betraying my fear despite my best efforts.

"Look at her, skulking around like a little spy." Claire's voice dripped with false concern. "What kind of daughter eavesdrops on her own father?"

The sharp smell of whiskey hit me before my father's growl did. "You were spying on us?"