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— I… I w-want… — Trevor barely forced the words out, feeling how his voice, high and melodic, trembled like a stretched string ready to snap. Finally, he straightened his back, meeting Shahin’s eyes with defiance. — I… want you to shove your threats up your ass!
The moment the words left his lips, a heavy silence fell over the room. Even the sweet, lingering smoke from the hookah seemed to freeze in the air, as if reality itself had held its breath.
Everything inside Trevor was shaking. Not just his mind, but his body—as if terrified of something inevitable. What is this? Why do I feel like every part of me is afraid of these words? His shoulders tensed, but not like before—not like a man preparing for a fight, but like a woman instinctively shrinking in the face of danger.
— Leila, Leila… — Shahin finally spoke, his voice, usually lazy and calm, suddenly turning hard and grim. — I gave you a chance. Allowed you to reclaim your honor. I thought you’d come to your senses. But you… you keep acting out like a wild little mare that’s forgotten who owns her.
Trevor felt something tighten painfully inside. Not his mind. No. His body. The female body. It was afraid. It knew Shahin’s words meant something irreversible. But he, Trevor Hale, had never let anyone intimidate him. Never.
— Oh, of course, — he scoffed, but the smirk that followed wasn’t cocky—it was nervous, stretched tight over his lips, with just the slightest hint of fear. — And what are you gonna do? Lock me up again? Make me kneel and beg for forgiveness? That’s hilarious, man. Really fucking hilarious.
Shahin looked at him. Slowly. Assessing.
And in that moment, Trevor realized—the sky above him had gotten heavier, the air thicker. Everything in this room had tilted, like he had just lost control on a sharp turn—about to be thrown off the road.
And he had no idea how this was going to end.
— Ah, Leila… — Shahin exhaled at last, as if savoring the name on his tongue. — You’ve left me no choice.
He gestured with his hand, and the two guards who had been standing by the door all this time stepped forward, rolling their shoulders like they had just been waiting for the order.
Trevor froze, watching the two massive men approach. Everything inside clenched. He couldn’t deny it anymore—what he felt was pure, raw fear.
— Hey! — His voice shot up, and Trevor flinched at how high and shrill it sounded. Like a woman’s panicked cry. — What the fuck is this?! Call off your fucking dogs!
But Shahin only gave a lazy smile.
— Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’re just going to make sure you’re ready for tomorrow. — He spoke slowly, almost gently, before taking another relaxed pull from the hookah.
Trevor, not fully grasping the meaning of the words yet, blinked rapidly. His back went rigid, fingers clenching the armrests of the chair.
— Ready? Ready for what? — His voice—that infuriatingly feminine voice—cracked into a high note. — What the fuck do you mean?!
The guards reached him with ease, grabbing him by the arms as if he weighed nothing, dragging him toward the exit of Shahin’s grand chamber.
— Let me go, you fucker! — He jerked, but his struggle was pathetic. His breasts bounced forward from the sudden movement, only to snap back and painfully smack against his ribs. — Ah, fuck! Where the hell are you taking me?! Ready for what?!
— For sale, dumbass, — one of the guards snorted, holding him firmly by the shoulder. — Tomorrow, you’ll be put on the market as fresh merchandise. A virgin, fiery-tempered, and with that body? You’ll go for a damn fine price.
Trevor froze. Virgin? Sale? What fucking market?! What the fuck were they talking about?!
— WHAT?! — He thrashed, but the guards only gripped him tighter, leaving him no room to escape. — Are you out of your fucking minds?! I… I’m not some fucking—
His voice betrayed him, cracking into something weak, something desperate. He coughed, trying to force even a shred of his usual confidence back into his words.
— This… this is all wrong! I… I’m a man! I’m Trevor Hale!
But the words, like before, felt meaningless—fading into the deep, rumbling laughter of the guards.
— Oh, get a load of her! — One of them laughed, tightening his grip on Trevor’s thin wrist. — “I’m a man! I’m Trevor!” Ahahaha! You hear that, Hasim?
— I hear it, — the second guard chuckled. — And you know what’s funny? Dancers say the same kind of bullshit when they’re being sold. They claim they were kidnapped, that they’re from noble families, that they’re not who we think they are.
— Yeah, and then they get on stage and shake their tits like they’ve been doing it their whole damn lives, — the first one added before smacking Trevor sharply across the hip.
Trevor yelped—purely on reflex—then suddenly froze, stunned by his own reaction.
That wasn’t the outraged shout of a man getting slapped on the ass.
It was light. Feminine. Scared. And so instinctive.
His thigh burned from the hit, but not from pain—no, it burned from realization.
— MERRICK! — Trevor screamed, panic overtaking everything else. — Stop! That’s it, you win! Shut this shit down, do you hear me?! You fucking fraud, you hear me?! I demand—
A violent yank cut him off. They lifted him off the ground—effortlessly—carrying him off toward a fate he didn’t yet understand. Toward where he would be prepared for his new life. With his new master.