Page 1 of Choke

PROLOGUE

Mona

“Move your ass.You won’t like what they do to bitches who don’t do as they’re told.”

My body jolts as the tip of the man’s gun digs into me. His voice is harsh, his stance intimidating. I want to pretend I’m not scared, but I’m petrified.

I glance around the room and see four other women. They all look to be in their late teens to mid-twenties. They appear visibly shaken, and their eyes are vacant. The stench of fear is so thick and pungent that I wonder if I’ll gag from it. I always assumed that fear is odorless, but I was wrong. It carries the rancid aroma of sweat and unwashed hair of the women in the room. It’s apparent they’ve been here for much longer than me.

I stiffen as a deep rumble assaults my ears.

“Do as you’re told. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Play dead if you have to. Just survive.”

I turn my head slightly to look at the man pressing the barrel of a gun to my back. His blue eyes lock with mine, and a chill oozes down my spine. What will happen if I ignore his advice?

“Line up!” another man yells, causing the four other women to form a straight line, their arms stiff at their sides.

The cell door flies open, and a robust man with pudgy cheeks and a receding hairline enters with four armed guards.

He claps his chubby hands and smiles, showing one gold tooth. “Ah, my new girls. Welcome to the fold, my children. I’m delighted you’ve found your way to God.”

Bile rises in my stomach, and my hands shake. God—a word that every power-hungry degenerate has twisted since the dawn of humankind. A tired playbook repeated ad nauseam.

I scan the four women, who all have their gazes dutifully downcast as if greeting the supreme ruler.

Wonder how small this fucker’s dick is?

The old man waddles through the cell and stops abruptly in front of me. “Oh, aren’t you lovely?” He claps his hands again and giggles like an excited child. “We’ve never had an exotic one like you before.”

What the fuck? Does he think he’s talking to a safari animal?

“That olive skin, those pretty green eyes, and all that long, black hair. Yes, child. God has favored you, hasn’t he?”

Part of me wants to laugh. God doesn’t favor me. He despises me. God took my father from me and made me watch.

The man gently pinches the ends of my hair, the tips of his fingers rubbing the dark strands. “Such a pretty girl. Unfortunately, we can’t keep you.”

“What do you mean?” the guy pointing a gun at me asks.

His accent is Scottish. He’s tall, at least a foot taller than my five-foot-eight frame. His eyes are an ethereal blue, almost alien-like. Creepy but hauntingly beautiful. A five-o’clock shadowdusts his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones. In another life, he could’ve been a model.

“She’s not to be touched by anyone.” The chubby man rubs my cheek with the back of his hand. “God’s favorite child must remain pure.”

Must remain pure? I’ve got news for you, buddy. I lost my virginity at sixteen in the back of a pickup truck. It lasted all of three minutes.

The creep turns to the Scottish guy. “You’re responsible for her, Callum. I’m entrusting her care to you.”

“Yes, Mr. Meyer,” Callum says before shoving me with the barrel of his gun. “Move.”

1

PART ONE

2

ATLAS

Is humanity based on nature or nurture? That’s a question I’ve asked myself my entire life as I struggle to extricate myself from my father’s name while acknowledging that I harbor similar tendencies as him. Finding myself repulsed by my father and the DNA running through my veins is a strange concept.

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