The following is a sample of the first chapter for your reading pleasure. Sign up for UPDATES to get a sneak peek at the next four chapters.
It was close to midnight when I exited the café. It had been a long and exhausting shift, and I was ready for a warm bed. I walked at a fast pace, trying to make it to the shelter quickly and praying there would be a bed left when I got there. Sometimes, they were full and had no space for even one more person. Those were the nights I dreaded the most.
I had a few friends who let me crash on their couch from time to time, but I tried never to overstay my welcome. Even though they were cool about it, I always felt like an imposition. They were all so busy, with some being musicians who traveled often. The nights they were juggling hectic schedules were when I stayed at the shelter. It wasn’t all bad. I could get a shower and a decent meal, and that was all I needed.
The streets felt deserted at this time of night. But it was New York, and one could never be too careful. I had lived in the city my whole life, and even I still got creeped out sometimes. I walked past the few shops that were still open, glaring into the window fronts and dreaming of things I only wished I could afford.
It was a cool night with a light breeze blowing. Still, it wasn’t the wind that made me shiver, but what was waiting up ahead of me—that stretch of street that was a little too dark for my comfort. The long, eerie alley had a way of making the hairs on my neck stand on end. I could see nothing but complete and utter darkness each time I walked past it, and each time, I would imagine all the strange, sinister things that could lurk there. Now, as I got closer, chills went down my spine, and I wrapped my arms around myself for comfort.
I was almost in the clear when I heard whistles and laughter filling the darkness. Out of instinct, I stiffened and began walking even faster. I couldn’t see their faces, only heard their voices—they were shouting at me. My heart pounded in my chest. Their presence scared me to my core. Closing my eyes, I prayed that they would just leave me alone. I heard them exit the alleyway behind me and my knees almost buckled. I wasn’t sure, but it sounded like there were at least three of them.
Although they were a ways behind me, I could tell they were gaining on me and fast. The catcalls continued as they closed in, and one of them shouted, “Turn around, honey! Let’s see that pretty face of yours.” The sound in his voice shot fear straight through me. My breathing became heavy as I tried to keep myself from going into full panic mode.
One of them finally caught up to me and stepped in front of my path, blocking me. “Hey, sugar,” he said, his tone ominous. “We just wanted to get a better peek at you. No harm in that, right?”
I stood frozen in place, fear paralyzing me. Without warning, he grabbed my shirt on both sides of my collar and ripped it open, exposing my chest. The crisp air immediately assaulted my skin. As it dawned on me what was happening, tears streamed down my face, but no words would come.
I heard the others catching up to us. It was then that I realized I might not make it out of this situation. My mind was spinning in a thousand different directions as I tried to grasp the reality of what was about to happen to me. They would rape me. Maybe they’d leave me to die, or maybe they’d just kill me outright. Everything about the man in front of me—the intensity in his voice, the evil in his eyes—left little doubt about his true intentions.
I had to do something. I had to at least try to save myself. As I gathered the will to fight, my brain took over and my body followed. I glared at the guy in front of me and drew my knee up, hitting him as hard as I could in his groin. He released me with a grunt as pain shot through him. I ran like hell, hearing footsteps pounding into the pavement as they pursued me. They were shouting at me the entire time, and their words fueled me. They were all the motivation I needed to keep running.
“Hey, you little bitch!”
“We are gonna gut you like a fish!”
“After we’re done passing you around!”
The sound of their voices made me sick. They were vile, disgusting men.
Up ahead, I saw an intersection come into view. Unsure of which way to go, I looked in both directions—only more darkness as far as the eye could see. I hesitated, then quickly took the street to the left. As I turned the corner, I glanced back and realized that split second of hesitation had cost me. They were right behind me, and in only a matter of seconds, they would have me.
Desperate, I turned my focus straight ahead, intent on escaping my attackers. As I did, my foot caught something, sending me crashing into the sidewalk. As my body slammed into the cold, filthy ground, the asphalt tore into my face, and I knew they had me. I had just sealed my fate. I started screaming as loud as I could in one last-ditch effort, praying someone would hear me. “Help me! Please, somebody, help me!”
I closed my eyes and let out a desperate cry, full of fear for the inevitable. It was then that I heard a car screech to a halt just next to me. The door swung open, and all I saw was a gun firing on my attackers.
As if they had been expecting this, they began firing back and bullets rained down around me. Stuck in the crossfire, I stayed sprawled out on the street, keeping my head down. After a few seconds that felt like a lifetime, the men suddenly scurried, running in the opposite direction. I heard one of them shout, “You’ll pay for this, Grant!” as he ran away.
A hand reached out toward me and I heard a man shout, “Get in!” I grabbed his hand, and in one fell swoop, he pulled me into the car. As soon as I was safely inside, he slammed the door shut and shouted orders to the driver. “Get us out of here, Geoffrey.” The engine revved, and the car took off at an incredible speed.
I was desperately trying to catch my breath and collect my thoughts. My adrenaline was still pumping. The man in the seat next to me remained eerily silent, but I could feel him watching me. When I finally regained some composure, I sat up cautiously, facing the mystery man.
His appearance immediately caught me off guard. He was younger than I expected, mid-twenties maybe, and extremely well dressed. Broad shoulders complemented his strong jawline and his presence was intimidating, to say the least. He remained silent, his gaze still fixed on me, and it made me uncomfortable. The realization set in: I was in a car with a strange man who had a gun. Fear took hold of me yet again while a million questions ran through my mind.
Why did he save me?
What does he want with me?
My mind was spinning out of control, and I had to say something.
“Who are you?” I finally mustered the courage to ask.
“Ethan Grant.”
He spoke the name as if I should know it.
When he said nothing else, I guessed it was my turn. “My name is Olivia Crosley.” I continued to assess the situation and one thing stood out to me loud and clear. He was far too calm for a man who had just shot at people and saved a girl from certain death.
“Where do you live?” he asked in a dispassionate tone. I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t live anywhere. He stared at me, waiting for a response. “Where do you live, Olivia?” he asked again. I remained silent. “I won’t ask you again.” His agitation was clear—and it was the first emotion I’d seen from him.
“I…I don’t have a home,” I said, my words a little more unsteady than I expected. There was no use sugar-coating it. I was homeless. He looked at me with an odd expression.
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” I replied, wondering why he was asking me so many questions. He looked me up and down for a moment, making me squirm.
“What about your parents?”
“They’re dead,” I said, growing more nervous about what I had gotten myself into. I hoped he wasn’t a serial killer or sex trafficker. Morbid as they were, those were the only two things that came to mind at that moment. He grabbed a jacket from the space between us and threw it at me. I looked at him, puzzled, not understanding why.
“Cover yourself up,” he demanded, dropping his gaze to my chest. When I looked down, I realized they’d ripped my shirt open entirely and my dingy, tattered bra was on full display. Horrified, I snatched the jacket and quickly threw it across me. Just great, I thought to myself. I was in a car with a potential serial killer with my chest exposed. Perfect.
“You can just drop me at the next intersection,” I suggested. I figured the quicker I got out of there, the better.
“I don’t think so,” he replied, and the coldness in his tone put me on edge.
“Look, mister, you’re not some serial killer, are you?” My question had carelessly spilled out of my mouth. I saw a slight smirk appear on his face as he responded.
“Would a serial killer have saved your ass back there?”
I thought about it for a moment and his reasoning seemed almost sound. That didn’t mean I wasn’t jumping at the first opportunity to get away from him, though. Something about the whole situation made me uneasy. I wasn’t sure why he saved my life, but I had been on the streets long enough to know something wasn’t right.
“I am fine, you can just let me out here,” I insisted. He stared straight ahead, showing no emotion.
“Geoffrey, take us home,” he instructed the driver, ignoring my request. I looked at him, frustrated, an equal mix of fear and anger boiling inside of me.
“Look, Mr. Grant, I appreciate you saving me back there, truly I do, but I am not your prisoner. You cannot just keep me here,” I said as sternly as I could.
His icy stare gave way to agitation as he turned to me and looked me right in the eyes.
“I can drop you on any corner in this city and you will be dead by morning,” he said bluntly.
It was at that moment that I remembered one of my attackers shouting his name. They knew one another.
“Who were those men?” I asked slowly, and his reply chilled me.
“All you need to know is from the moment you got in this car, you have had a price on your head and they will stop at nothing to collect it.”
“Why would you put me in the middle of whatever you’re involved in?” I demanded to know.
“Would you have preferred that I left you there with those monsters so they could rape and murder you?”
He was right. If he had left me there, I would be dead. But I wasn’t sure that the situation I was in, whatever it was, was any better.
Want a sneak peek at the next four chapters?
Sign up for UPDATES and dive a little deeper into Ethan’s Empire.
.