Whisper of the Silence

"Flight APG364 has just arrived in Atrexia, Melaindur."

The same announcement came through—repeated thrice.

Shivering in fear, she walked along the jet bridge with her shoulders hunched. Her eyes darted in indescribable panic as she looked at the men in black surrounding her. A helpless sigh escaped her cracked lips. Hands trembling, she fiddled with the black coat topped on her bruised, cuffed wrists. She flitted her gaze to the large glass windows, watching the flock of birds flying across the azure sky. Her sad, longing gaze was enough to say everything.

She was desperate to be freed, after months of being in darkness.

'I want to go home,' she thought, on the verge of breaking down in tears.

The remaining passengers of the same international flight brushed past them, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of their hurried footsteps. Though a few looked back at them, and a slight hint of suspicion certainly flashed across their faces, they did nothing more than frown. No approaches, no questions. And soon after, they continued walking ahead. Perhaps they were in a rush to go to the arrival hall to reclaim their baggage.

Well, they couldn't be fully blamed for that. After all, on the surface, she seemed just like a lady from a wealthy family, protected by several bodyguards.

But she wasn't. She was captured here, sold by her very own blood relations without her consent.

'I need to run!' Clover Hon screamed inside her head.

As soon as she stepped into the airport terminal gate, a wave of cooling sensation kissed her skin. Her eyes widened at the number of people waiting to board the plane that had just landed.

And an idea struck her mind.

She slowed down her pace in a not-so-obvious way. Maybe because they weren't fast to begin with, the men didn't notice anything. Parting her dry lips with hints of fresh blood peeking through, she clicked her tongue. When it wasn't loud enough, she clicked again, harder this time. She didn't care if the men heard her or if her tongue ached. This was her only chance; she needed to succeed.

No way she was going to continue being a sex slave.

A young girl with two ponytails tugged at her mother's hand and said, "Mommy! Look at her! Look at her!"

For one moment, she thought she saw a ray of hope.

"Chloe, don't," her mother muttered, giving Clover a sidelong glance. "Don't look at the weirdo."

'Damn it,' she cursed. 'It's not a joke.'

Nothing changed. Nobody understood her. Those men were still around her, heading in the targeted direction. She tried breaking free from the cuffs, but to no avail. Other than staining her blood deeper into the furry coat, it barely helped with anything.

"Walk faster, sexy. He's waiting for us." The scarred man beside her came up close. He grabbed her ass and squeezed it before whispering, "You'll be treated very well. No worries."

Clover turned around to give him a deadly stare. However, it was soon replaced with fright when a horny expression was registered on his face. His dark brown eyes turned hungry as he ran his finger down into her sensitive spot, scanning for pleasure.

"I wanna be the first." He licked her pinna.

As though somebody dumped a bucket of ice water over her, she shuddered all over and shoved him away. She tilted her head, low enough to erase the disgusting saliva with her upper sleeve.

It was all she could do.

Nowhere near escaping.

They continued walking. Passing by The Face Shop, Jaya Grocer, and Uniqlo, Clover fell into despair when none of the people walking in and out paid enough attention to notice the peculiarity in them, nor did they understand the body language she was trying to express. Slowly, tears began to mist over her eyes, blurring the path in front.

"Are you okay, little girl?" asked a hoarse voice the minute they walked past Starbucks.

Clover jolted, glancing around for the source. Left, right. Up, down. 'Where?'

"Over here!" A fair-looking gentleman waved his Americano in the air. He was taking two steps at a time, catching up with their pace. "Are you okay?" he repeated, pulling the sunglasses down the bridge of his nose.

He was trying to get closer when one of the black-clad men suddenly stretched out his arm and blocked the way.

Before Clover could speak, the man interrupted, "Sorry, but this is the lady of our house. Strangers aren't allowed to be close."

"Ah... Really?" The gentleman tiptoed every now and then, looking for a chance to meet her eyes.

'No!'