Fifteen girls were hanging out in a chilly basement.
They were all in the same white silk dresses—sleeveless, flowing to the floor, and looking pretty fancy. These gorgeous dresses were made to make them seem elegant, innocent, and attractive.
To put it simply, they were like products.
Each girl had a sparkly silver mask on her face, covering from the forehead down to just above the lips. Only their mouths and chins showed.
This made them anonymous.
This made them all look alike.
Their wrists were zip-tied to the armrests of metal chairs, and their ankles were tied to the chair legs.
Most of the girls were crying, whimpering, and shaking in fear.
Ten guards were standing around, all armed and looking bored.
For them, this was just another day at work.
What they didn't realize was that one of the "girls" wasn't a girl at all.
Layla was sitting in the second row, decked out in the white dress and silver mask. Like the others, her wrists and ankles were tied up.
