From the Ashes (Phoenix Prologue)

"Tell me about Derrick," he demanded with that effortless Alpha dominance spun into his softly spoken words. She went rigid and yanked her hands away from her nearly finished breakfast. Absently, she fingered the bruises on her wrists with the opposite hand. She became guarded, rotating her torso so subtly, he wouldn't have noticed if every cell of his body hadn't been entirely focused and aware of her.

"He's okay," she mumbled. "He takes good care of us."

His hand came down on the white linen tablecloth with more force than he had intended, and Aella jumped. "Do. Not. Lie to me," he growled, leaning forward into her space. The table between them was small enough that he was easily able to reach across and cup her chin. "I'll have the truth now, Aella."

She gulped, nodding quickly. Satisfied, he released her and settled back in his seat.

"Derrick does take care of us," she started softly. "He made sure we were always fed and clothed, with a roof over our heads. Without him, we wouldn't have been able to stay out of the foster care system, and we'd have all been separated. I'll always be grateful to him for that. For making it possible for me and Cody to stay together.

"After a while, when we were making more than what we were spending, he began taking care of the other homeless kids around here. He made sure they had what they needed; a safe place to sleep, enough food to eat, warm clothes and good shoes. After they'd become comfortable with their new situation, he would demand that they start working the streets to repay him for his kindness. He doesn't care how we get the money, but everyone, even Cody and I, are given quotas to meet every day. We pickpocket, shoplift, and pull cons to make the quotas. I'm pretty decent at hacking, but he doesn't count the money I make that way towards my quota, since he was the one who taught me."

Her eyes darted around the covered patio. He waited until her focus returned to him. "What happens if you don't meet your quota?" He knew she wasn't going to be happy about answering this one, but his tone brooked no argument.

She linked her fingers together and stared down at her lap. "It depends," she started, biting her lip. "He's harder on the older kids. A lot of them have younger siblings. It makes it easy for him to control us." She paused. Swallowed. Began again. "The younger kids get something taken away from them if they fail to make their quota. Maybe they don't get dinner that night, or he takes away their blankets and makes them sleep in the cold.

"If... If the older kids don't make it, we're forced to watch while our younger siblings or friends are hurt."

His hand clenched so hard he was sure he'd pierced the skin of his palms. He reached across the table to grip her hand, pulling back until her wrist was on the table in front of him. "And these?" his voice was quiet, deadly. She winced.

"I tried... I had to try. He keeps getting worse. I had to try to get them away. A few of the older girls, and most of the very young kids. We didn't get far. His enforcers tracked us down, dragged us back." Her words were just barely louder than a whisper now. "The small kids were...hurt. Very badly. The girls were violated. Brutally. I was forced to watch it all. Before each punishment, Derrick would come to me. Explain to me what was about to happen. He made sure I knew it was my fault they were being punished."

It took every ounce of willpower to keep his rage in check, to keep his touch gentle as he ran his fingers over the bruises on her wrists and forearm. She was leaving a few things out. The marks on her wrists made sense, but she was covered with injuries in different stages of healing. Her brother, the dead-man-walking, had not left her untouched.

"Why am I telling you all of this?" she asked, her brow furrowed. Her ignorance was oddly endearing. She had no idea what she was to him; what he was to her. No idea what the pull she was feeling meant.

Where had this girl come from?

"You're telling me," he started, reaching out to capture a lock of her starlight hair, "because I want to know."

She stared down at her linked hands, looking lost and confused.

He watched her for a few more minutes before retrieving the money clip she'd swiped from him. Pulling out two bills, he left them on the table and stood. "Come here," he said softly, holding his hand out for her to take. He was pleased when she did so without argument, hesitation or fear.

Leaving the restaurant, he guided her through a maze of back alleys, cross streets and bike paths until they reached the parking lot of a small, private beach. When he pulled out the keys to a sleek black luxury sedan, she froze. "What are you doing?" she asked with a note of panic in her words.

He frowned. "I'm taking you home."

She relaxed slightly. "It's not far. I can walk."

He spun around to face her head on. His sable eyes searched hers, noting every readable thought that passed through her expressive eyes. She was so innocently unguarded; it hurt him physically to think of what she had gone through. "No, stella meus. I'm taking you home. My home. With me."

The elation that lit up her face at his words was quickly replaced with a soul-crushing look of disappointment and despair. "I can't. I can't leave Cody there. I can't just abandon the rest of those kids."

"I will take care of them. Tell me where they are." He opened the passenger side door, growling when her eyes widened, and she stepped further back. "Get in the car, Aella," he said sternly.

She shook her head. "Not without Cody. If I'm not back in a few hours, he'll be punished. I can't leave without him."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know! We're not allowed to be together anymore. I don't know where he is, I just know where he'll be. And I have to be there too, if I want to keep him safe."

He snarled. Looking around the small beach and parking lot, he took her arm and steered her closer to where sand met pavement. Taking a moment to collect himself, he led her to a small building right at the edge of the lot and pulled her inside.

The interior was dark and cool, and small boats were stacked on both sides. Kayaks and paddleboards on the left, canoes on the right.

As soon as he had her inside with the door shut, he pressed her against the wall, threaded his fingers through her silken starlight hair, and crushed his mouth over hers. Teasing the seam of her lips until they parted with a sigh, his tongue dipped in to explore and claim her mouth until there was no place he hadn't tasted and explored. Loosely collaring her neck with his hand, he pressed a thumb against her jaw to lift her face. He manipulated her intoxicating mouth, her pliant body, until he had her where he wanted.

It wasn't until she gasped and moaned against his mouth that he realized he'd pinned her to the wall with his hips, the hard ridge of his cock pressing into her belly. He tore his mouth from hers and cradled her head in his palms, pressing his forehead to hers as they both caught their breath. He'd never lost control like that before.

She shifted, squirming in his hold, and he groaned as she brushed against his erection. He was harder than he'd ever been in his life. Every cell in his body wanted to strip her down and claim every inch of her creamy skin for himself.

The female was his. She was his mate, he felt it deep in the marrow of his bones. And judging by her reaction to him, she did too.

But she was also very young. Too young. He was determined to take her far away from here, right after he'd killed her brother and his enforcers, but he wouldn't touch her until she came of age.

For several long moments, all he could do was hold her, breathing her in, basking in the warmth of her inner light. "Tell me what you need." He pulled back, just enough to stare into her hooded, dazed eyes.

"What?" she rasped, her lips swollen from his attentions. Her hands flexed and relaxed rhythmically, grasping the fabric of his shirt.

"What do you need to do to find Cody and leave with me?"

"Oh," she breathed, looking a bit... disappointed. She glanced around, just now seeming to take in the dark, damp room and the boats lined up on each side. "I can... I can tell him to meet me here."

"When, stella?"

"Um..." she bit her lip. "Tomorrow morning. Once I go back, I won't be able to leave again. We get turned out at dawn."

He searched her face, torn. It went against every instinct he had to let her go. He desperately wanted to take her away from here, by force if necessary. Even in her dazed gaze, he saw the iron will and steely strength of a fighter intent on the defense of another. If he took her now, if she lost her brother.... He would lose her, too.

Finally, he nodded. "Dawn, then. An hour past. No later. I promise, once you're safe, I will find a way to come back for the others."

...................................................

He stood in the shadows of the boathouse after she'd left, looking at the place on the wall she'd inhabited just minutes before. His fists clenched at his sides, impotent anxiety making him tense and jittery. He reached into his pocket and extracted his phone, pulling up the information he needed before dialing.

"Trevino, my man! And here I was, thinking you'd forgotten all about me. You're like a one-night-stand, you know that? Beautiful, there and gone, but man, what an ass—"

"Pyle," he clipped, cutting off the incessant prattle of the young pilot from his last command. "I need a favor."

........................................................

Aella's worn boots kicked up small clouds of summer dried earth as she entered the container port. Her blood pumped with giddy energy, and it was all she could do to keep her breathing even and her features schooled into the mask of indifference she had learned to wear around Derrick. Trevino's money clip sat heavily against her side. He'd insisted she take it all, enough to cover a full week of quotas for her and Cody. With any luck, the impressive bounty would be enough to put Derrick in a good mood. He was less likely to get violent when he was pleased with the day's catch.

Her hands shook a little as she pounded on the outside of the shipping container she shared with her two brothers and two of his enforcers. One of the enforcers was always on duty, so they only took up one extra bed in the small space she, Cody and Derrick had been living in since their parents died.

With a corroded whine, the wide door to the shipping container was pushed open, and she walked up the small ramp to step inside. Derrick had taken over the back half of the unit. A desk with two computer monitors, a speaker set and a very expensive office chair (she should know, she was the one who'd pulled off its theft) separated his space from the rest of the rectangular room. In the front, the bunk bed she shared with Cody was pressed to the left wall. The enforcers' bed was back a ways, closer to Derrick's space.

She and Cody shared a chest where they kept the possessions they'd been allowed to keep over the years. Aella's laptop was in that chest, and she often stayed up late at Derrick's instruction, writing code or monitoring the online activity of some victim he'd decided to blackmail. The money she made this way didn't count toward her quota, but if she failed to procure an acceptable amount, she was punished just the same.

She stood quietly next to Brock, one of the two enforcers Derrick liked to keep close. Eric and Brock were the largest and meanest of the seven enforcers her brother utilized to keep the rest of them in line. She knew from personal experience how much of a sadistic prick the two bodyguards could be.

As she was made to stand, waiting for her brother, Brock began toying with her hair. He stood directly in front of her, chuckling softly when she let her vision go soft and unfocused. Closing her eyes while he played his sick games would be a mistake, but she'd found that she could keep them open without really seeing what was in front of her. She simply retreated into the fantasy that life wouldn't always be like this. That life would one day be more than this. Today, she imagined it was Trevino's dark, deep gaze that seared her skin instead of the leering grin of the 200-lb guard. She pretended the fingers slowly unbuttoning the oversized flannel shirt were his. The illusion was destroyed when Brock grabbed a fistful of her hair and dug his fingers into her jaw, leading her over to the side by his bunk as he ripped off her unbuttoned shirt.

She cried out as the back of her knees hit the thin, cheap mattress while he thrust his tongue into her mouth, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. She fought to control her panic. Brock had never pushed it this far before; Derrick had always let her be played with up to a certain point, but never had she been made to endure a man rutting between her legs. Had that changed? Was this another punishment for when she'd tried to run two weeks ago?

As if on cue, Derrick's cruel laugh came from somewhere behind her, just as she was shoved back to fall onto the mattress. Brock remained standing, grinning down at her, as Derrick walked over and crouched down by the side of the bed.

"What's the matter, Aella? Don't you like him?"

Keeping her eyes on the ceiling above her, forcing herself to be still until she was given permission to stand up, she swallowed before she spoke. "I like him fine, Derrick."

"Hmm," he hummed, fingering a lock of her hair. "I'm sure you do. My little sister, the dock-rat cum slut. I'm so proud."

Brock chortled from somewhere above her. She focused on her breathing; in and out. In and out. This was all just part of the game her brother played. It would be over soon enough.

It would be over, all over, soon enough.

After an increasingly uncomfortable moment, Derrick grunted and stood. "Get up, Aella. You're back quite early. What do you have for me?"

Aella slowly climbed to her feet and walked over to where her brother had taken a seat behind his desk. Reaching into her baggy jeans, she pulled out Trevino's money clip and tossed it on the desk. Derrick made no move to reach for it. His chin propped up in the palm of his hand, he just watched her, swinging his chair from side to side in small, jerky movements. She swallowed as a sense of foreboding fell over her.

Finally, Derrick sighed and picked up the small fortune she'd just offered him. He seemed unimpressed as he tore the clip off and tossed it to Brock before he began counting the bills. When he was done, he tucked the cash into a drawer below the desk and looked back up at her.

"Anything else you'd like to share with me, sweetheart?" he asked softly. Something about the manic glint in his eyes and the subtle warning beneath his words made her shiver. She shook her head slowly. "No Derrick. That's all."

"Hmm. Are you absolutely positive there's nothing else you want to tell me?"

A corner of his mouth was turned up in a cruel smile, and she could feel his malice in the room, circling her like a shark.

Did he know? How could he know?

"No, Derrick," she said again, robotically. He stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, he nodded, and her shoulders slumped in relief as he looked past her to Brock.

"Give us a minute," he said curtly. She tensed again as Brock turned and walked out, the heavy whine of the hinged door like a storm warning. Keeping her focus on the scuffed tips of her boots, she waited, trying not to fidget nervously.

"You filched an Officer, last week," he said softly. Tentatively, she raised her gaze. This was about a job?

She nodded slowly. "I remember."

Derrick grunted. "He tracked you."

She allowed herself to relax a tiny bit. She was on familiar footing. "I've been tracked before." Several times, actually. So had Derrick. But their digital footprint had never led to their physical location.

"Hmm." His finger tapped against his lips as he continued to stare at her. She shifted uncomfortably under his sharp gaze. It felt... assessing. "He contacted me."

She paused. "How?"

"He came here."

"Bullshit." The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She paled, swallowing nervously, but Derrick didn't react. And that... that was very bad.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He just shrugged.

"He made me an offer."

"An offer?" What?

"For you."

She stiffened. "I don't understand, Derrick."

He shrugged again. "No need to worry, sister." Lazily, he climbed to his feet and stretched. "I took care of it." He nodded to the door, dismissing her.

"Oh, and Aella?" he called after her when she reached the door. She paused, her hand against the cool metal of the container frame, turning back to him without lifting her gaze.

"Cody stays with Brock tonight. No exceptions."

She winced. Everyone pulled two hours of watch a night on top of whatever Derrick had them doing during the day. They were each paired up with one of the enforcers and circled the group of eight shipping containers they occupied. Derrick's dock-rat gang had gotten larger than even he had planned on, and that kind of network took time and manpower to guard.

Brock took exceptional pleasure in slapping Cody around when they were on watch together, just to get a reaction out of her. Usually, she was able to keep him away from her little brother by switching shifts or trading favors. Obviously, Derrick had caught on.

She nodded, her eyes blurring with frustrated, angry tears. Just one more night. Just one more night, and she'd get Cody out of here.

For good, this time.

...................................................................................

"Aella! Catch!"

Aella turned at the sound of Cody's voice, a wide smile spreading across her face as she flung her hand out to catch the apple the skinny 11 year old had tossed her way. "Hey Sprout!" she greeted, ruffling his hair. He groaned, and the sound was so entirely childlike, it hurt as much as it warmed her heart. After everything he'd been through, Cody had somehow remained so... so normal. Like he was any other kid.

"I told you not to call me that," he complained, swatting her arm away.

"And I told you not to tell me what to do, Sprout," she countered, smirking at him as he rolled his eyes. She glanced around, nodding to the two girls a year or two older than her she'd been chatting with as she moved a few yards away, closer to the edge of the dock bordering the empty boat slip. "Listen, Sprout," she said, lowering her voice. "I've got something really important to talk to you about."

Cody looked up at her, his light grey-blue eyes, so similar to hers, wide with apprehension. This was how she'd started talking to him about the escape they'd tried to make 2 weeks ago. She cringed, knowing how much of a risk it was to try this again, hating that she had to put him in that kind of danger again. They'd barely gotten through the last two weeks with their lives. She'd wanted to die after finding out that Kip, Cody's little blonde friend, had never come back the night he was pulled from his bunk and taken to the enforcer's container for his turn with Derrick. His death would forever be a black stain on her soul.

"I don't think we should—"

"Please just trust me, Cody," she said, cutting him off. "I met a friend today. He just wants to help. Okay?"

He looked at her uneasily. She looked up, spotting Brock as he stalked toward them. "Listen," she whispered, biting her lip nervously. "You remember we went to that beach once? The one where we found the starfish?"