Fated To Three, Betrayed By All… Until She Rose.

Leilani.

The men were surprisingly good people.

Shocking right?

Well, that was exactly how I felt when just about ten minutes into the drive, they all burst out singing at the top of their lungs, their voices filling the air in a distorted harmony.

They sang along to all the songs that blasted out of the old speaker and even did remixes of Beyoncé’s and Rihanna’s songs as we drove all the way to the city, and by the time we finally arrived— well I was dropped somewhere around Times-square— it was already midnight.

I alighted from the truck in high spirits with a smile tugging at the corners of my lips that I never knew I could afford at the moment.

The driver with the eye- patch waved at me with a knowing smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he said softly; "Here child, be careful."

I couldn’t remember the last time anyone ever called me that. I couldn’t remember the last time I ever met a soft speaking adult because truth be told, the only adults I’ve really ever encountered were my parents— fake parents— and other people who were as viper-ous as they could come.

His voice brought a kind of warmth spreading through my chest and I nodded. "Thank you for the ride."

"You’re welcome, child."

"I’ll repay you one day."

"You don’t have to." He drawled, and then waved one last time before driving off.

Even seconds after he drove off, I could still hear the loud voices of the other men screaming goodbye at me. Their voices carried well into the night, making the smile on my face linger until it was no longer there.

Until the truck was totally gone...

And I remembered once more that I was all alone. In these busy streets of NYC without a phone, any money or any means of identification.

I was no better than the hobos lurking around the dark alleys. But do you know what distinguished me the most from them?

The fact that I was famished. Insanely famished. As I have not had anything to eat or drink in several hours.

The sky was pitch black by the time I stumbled through the cold streets barefoot, because for some reason, Keisha and her cohorts had decided to strip me down to my feet. I was clad in a simple top and a skirt so sheer, one could easily see through it. And in this weather, clothes like these were a total misfortune.

"I hope she dies from a cold wherever she is!" I hissed as I wrapped my arms around my body while I surged forward, ignoring the sound of thunder rumbling somewhere deep in the clouds.

A few minutes later, I stopped in front of a pay phone but upon the realization that I didn’t have what it takes to make a call— money, I sighed and turned away.

"How the hell do I survive this cold night?" I drawled under my shaky breath. "Where do I even go from here?"

I shuddered when cold air blew against my skin, causing goosebumps to spread across my flesh. My body at this point was weak from starvation and dehydration, and for this reason, even moving felt like such a great sport.

But ignoring the pain and the weakness, I continued to move ahead, and I had just taken a few steps away from the pay phone when suddenly fell to the floor, my knees crashing down against the rough gravel.

I cried out when the skin on my knees broke and blood seeped out. "Ouch!" But my voice only came out as a whisper.

And goddess, that was supposed to be the highest form of misfortune anyone could ever have to endure, right?

That should have been the height of it as I have suffered enough right?

But for some twisted dark reason, it wasn’t. And soon, rain began to drizzle, soaking through my already flimsy clothes.

Feeling dejected, I closed my eyes and let out a dramatic sigh, hoping and praying for this night to come to an end... or for my end—if this is it— to come peacefully.

I had even almost begun to surrender myself to the darkness that lurked behind my closed eyelids when suddenly I felt a weird kind of warmth rush through my veins.

My eyes fluttered open just in time to see a pair of washed purple eyes looking down at me. In this state, I couldn’t make out what the entire face looked like but I knew that I had seen a mane of striking silver hair atop their head.

The sight made my heart jump in my chest, and usually, this would have been the part where I was forced to fight for my safety, but I was too weak to do anything. I was tired and drained, and hell, if this man would be the one to kill me, then so be it.

My body went limp when he picked me up and began to move. And that was the last thing I felt before my consciousness began to fade. It was the last thing I could think about before the nerves in my brain went off.

And before it felt as though the light had been snuffed out of my eyes.

—

I didn’t die.

Ladies and gentlemen, I didn’t die.

Instead I woke up in a castle that looked like it had been stolen right out of a Disney cartoon.

However, the only difference between this place and a literal castle is the fact that everything— from the floors to the ceilings and the walls— were painted in an elegant shade of matte black.

The high curtains were also black. And the only thing or things in the house with a different color was the chandelier hanging in the middle of the room and the small golden lights scattered here and there for illumination.

Blinking my eyes open, I tried to force myself to a sitting position but as soon as I sat up, pain like fire spread through my midriff. A groan escaped my mouth before I could stop it and I found myself wincing loudly despite myself just as my hands flew to my abdomen.

"I would rest if I were you." A deep baritone drawled not so far from me, causing me to flinch.

My eyes widened when I turned in the direction of the sound, only to find a middle-aged man sitting cross-legged across from me.

He was the perfect depiction of elegance dressed in a suit that screamed power and probably cost more than my life, and his hair— which was the most notable part of his body— was slicked backwards, away from his face to make his eyes appear more piercing.

I croaked. "Who are you?"

I do not know why that was the first thing I could think of asking and I do not know why I asked it. But he didn’t seem offended.

If anything, he smiled. "A Good Samaritan."

"Huh?"

"I do not know anything besides the fact that I found you in the streets, child. And I do not know why, but as soon as I laid my eyes on you, I instantly felt this urge to help you."

Something about his words didn’t fully sit well with me, and maybe it was my usual trust issues taking root in my heart, but I found myself doubting him for no reason at all

"Is that so?" I asked coldly, rising to my feet despite the agonizing pain in my midriff.

And to my dismay, he simply looked at me, turned to the newspaper in front of him and hissed; "Yes. But if you do not believe me, child, you’re free to go. You can have some food and water before you leave. Okay?"

I frowned. "O-okay?" But just then, another thought struck my head and I found myself hissing out the first words I could think of. I spat; "...did Darius make you do this?"

Before I asked that question, the man was taking a sip of his tea but as soon as it slipped out of my mouth, he froze, spat out what was in his mouth and turned to me with bulging eyes.

"Darius?"

I nodded. "Huh huh."

"Is he still alive?"