Trafficked -- Beaten -- Trapped
When eighteen-year-old Stacy Degray sets off to visit Felipe, a charming guy she met on the internet, she has no idea that she is being lured to his home country Malaguay to be auctioned off as a soldier's bride. All...
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Over the next months, the conflict with the rebels escalates, and in my last week of basic training, my unit is requested to support an active battle in the fight over a mountain village. I'm getting my gear together by the truck when Miguel storms out of the training center, steering right in my direction. Anger spills from his dark eyes.
"Where do you think you're going?" he hisses, taking the semiautomatic rifle out of my hand.
My forehead wrinkles. Not sure if I should be touched by his concern or murder him for being overprotective. "Miguel, this is what I've been training for."
"Wrong." He glares in Tomás's direction to get his attention. "You were trained to patrol the streets. Active battle is way too dangerous."
Bad choice of words; I'm not the naïve girl anymore that arrived in Malaguay. Besides, this might be my only chance to prove that I can stand my ground when it matters. "But I want to go."
"Impossible." He whistles on four fingers.
Tomás finally turns his head and jogs over to us.
"Stacy isn't going with you." The firmness in Miguel's tone doesn't leave this an open topic for discussion.
Tomás isn't fazed. "This exercise is part of basic training. If she doesn't go, it'll be as if she dropped out. I won't pass her."
"Women aren't allowed in active battle. That's the law."
"Actually, it's more like a rule. With a few rare exceptions, women simply aren't suited for combat. I cleared it with Varela this morning and he agreed that Stacy should go. Truthfully, I don't think you're giving her enough credit."
In that moment, I could've hugged him.
"Still. I don't think it's a good idea—"
"Let the girl go," comes a voice from behind us. "She can see firsthand what her country has been doing to us."
I spin around to find Santino next to General Varela. All conversations have halted, most eyes glued to the ground. My own words are stuck in my throat; even though I've been living in the mansion, I've only run into Malaguay's president on a few rare occasions. He still intimidates the shit out of me.
Miguel frowns. "I just—"
One look from his father shuts him up.
"Okay, then I'm going, too." Miguel's voice is laced with stubbornness. He reminds me of a little boy who was told he couldn't play second base.
Santino massages his forehead like he's fighting an oncoming headache. His glare cuts into his son. "Miguel, you have to prepare for an important business deal. Please be sensible."
A long sigh escapes Miguel's lips. He grabs my hands and pulls me away to be out of the others' earshot. "Promise me you'll be careful."
"I'll be fine." My heart thumps with excitement. Even though the thought of going to battle should be terrifying, I likely won't get another glimpse of front-row action. I've worked hard for this chance and deserve it.
