Chapter One - The Trap

Sarah Bennett lounged in her chair, her blond hair spilling over her shoulders like a silken wave, shimmering under the dining room chandelier’s warm glow. Her blouse clung to her frame, top button undone, a teasing sliver of creamy cleavage peeking out from beneath the soft material.

The Thanksgiving table stretched before her, turkey roasted to a glossy bronze, gravy simmering in a silver boat, cornbread crumbling under her delicate fingers. This was an All-American Southern dinner spread to be proud of.

She twirled a strand of blond hair around her pink-tipped nail, her lips, full and rosy, parted in a lazy smirk. The 20-year-old college student’s jeans hugged her thighs, and silver heels dangled from her crossed legs. Sarah knew how to dress and play the part of Southern Belle to a tee.

Her mother, Ellen Bennett, glided from the kitchen, a stereotypical floral dress swayed over her hips, blond curls framing a face that still had plenty of charm. She sat a pecan pie on the table and smiled, soft and sweet, as she watched the local news flash across the TV screen. “Turn that up, honey,” she murmured to her youngest daughter, Emily.

The 18-year-old Emily perked up. Her blond bob bounced as she snatched the remote from the table, her petite frame humming with youthful energy. She cranked the volume, her crop top clinging to her A-cup breasts and petite frame as she settled back.

The anchor’s voice droned on about a border bust in Arizona, three Hispanic men in cuffs, “suspected cartel members due to deported,” scrolled across the bottom. Emily’s tan legs kicked under the table, her glossy lips curling into a playful grin.

The household patriarch, James Bennett, leaned forward, his bourbon glass cradled in his broad hand. “Good riddance,” he spat, puffing his chest out; his Texas flag pin caught the chandelier’s light on his starched plaid shirt. “Those damn wetbacks don’t belong here!” He dug into his share of the pie. “Good to see we’re finally taking care of the problem.”

James was a Texas State Senator and a conservative man representing the 25th District. He chaired the Senate Committee on Border Security. He was seen as a rising star within the party due to his hardline anti-immigration views and his unforgiving methods of ridding the country of ‘uninvited visitors.’ He successfully campaigned for the Border states to work closer together and pool resources in a so-called ‘Freedom Fund,’ which led to the latest drug bust in Arizona.

Sarah tilted her head, hair brushing her shoulders, and her smirk sharpened as she glanced at the screen. “Yeah, Daddy. They can’t even talk right,” she commented, her Southern drawl gliding like silk. She sipped her drink. “I got a bunch of them back at college. We know they only got in because of diversity quotas.” Her sour comment elicited a chuckle from her father.

Emily giggled, wanting in on some of the action, her tan legs swinging as she placed some warm pecan pie in her mouth. “I can’t stand their food either; who wants to eat tacos every day?” Her insult was far less punchy, but James smiled anyway. Emily wasn’t the brightest and had no street smarts. Still, she had always tried to emulate her more popular and savvy older sister.

Sarah & Emily’s mother smoothed her dress, her well-practiced smile unwavering as she slid another slide of pie over to James. “Your father is serving his Country proudly,” she told her daughters. “This is about keeping Texas Texan.” Her voice was a gentle hum laced with subtle venom.

James grinned and nodded, his broad shoulders settling back as he savored the pie. “That’s my girls,” he said in admiration. “Pure Texan stock.” His voice was a steady rumble, pride pulsing through every word. His blue eyes flicked to the TV, the news fading to a weather report as the conversation was swiftly forgotten, and the family changed the topic.

Sarah stretched, her blouse lifting to flash a sliver of toned midriff as she leaned back. So, Daddy, you think the Longhorns are gonna take it this year?” she asked, her drawl thick and teasing, shifting the mood with a playful tilt of her head.

Ellen chuckled softly, pouring herself a glass of sweet tea. “Oh, honey, you know your father bets on them every season. It’s cost us a fortune,” she teased, her voice warm and light, a gentle nudge at James’ football obsession and slight gambling habit.

James laughed, a deep rumble rolling from his chest as he poured another glass of whiskey. “I got a good feeling about this year. Sark’s got them playing proper football.”

Emily giggled again, licking pie from her glossy lips. She had no interest in football, although her athletic abilities have earned her soccer and cheerleading scholarships. However, there was one university the enthusiastic blond hadn’t heard back from yet. “I’m just hoping I get to cheer at one of their games next year,” she said., her voice bright and eager.

James leaned back in his chair, looking at his three favorite people enjoying an All-American Thanksgiving dinner. “That's the dream, baby,” he grinned at his youngest daughter, “That’s the dream.”

❖

Sarah strutted across the University of Texas quad, her blond hair swaying and shimmering in the late November sun. Her pink tank top hugged her frame, tight and stylish, with a teasing hint of cleavage flashing with each step. Her auror screamed ‘Queen Bee,’ and she knew it.

The blond’s best friend, Lacey, kept pace. Her wavy red hair bounced, and her green eyes glinted as she twirled a strand. Her cheer skirt flared, showing off her silky-toned legs, and the cheer top clung to her pronounced chest. She popped her gum, smirking.

“That new TA’s a total waste of space,” Lacey said, her twang cutting through the courtyard chatter. “Bet he can’t even read the damn syllabus.” Her red lips curled into a grin.

Sarah smirked back, full lips parting to show her brilliant white teeth. “You shouldn’t have to go through that, Lacey,” she sympathized. “I’ll talk to Daddy. Maybe he can deport his ass.” The pair chuckled like mean girls as they continued to walk across the courtyard.

Travis Connor rolled up, his UT hoodie stretched over his broad shoulders. He cracked open his third energy drink of the morning. He had partied too hard last night and had a full day of classes and football practice to get through.

As he gulped down his drink, his eyes casually lingered on Sarah’s tank top. He had tried to date her a few times when they started college, but she made her disinterest very clear.

“Party tonight at Kappa Sig,” he said, his drawl thick with a flirty edge. “Y’all better show. It’s gonna be wild.”

Sarah sighed. Despite her Queen Bee reputation, she wasn’t one for parties. However, she knew she needed to show up at the biggest events to save face; it felt more like an obligation than a fun invitation. “Wouldn’t miss it,” she flashed a forced smile.

The fourth member of their gang, Jenna Paye, strolled up beside them. “You talking about the party tonight?” She asked. “The last one was a blast.” She grinned. Jenna was a model of contradictions. Her mousy demeanor, quiet attitude, and art major didn’t scream ‘party animal.’ Still, his judgmental tone amused Sarah, and she got pretty wild after a few cocktails.

Lacey tilted her head, her gum popping louder. “They better have some decent drinks this time,” she said, her Southern accent sharp with a teasing lilt. “Last party’s beer tasted like warm piss. I’m not choking that down again.”

Jenna chuckled. “Come on, Lacey,” she said. “The drinks weren’t that bad.” She grinned.

Travis decided to contribute. “Besides, from what I heard,” she said. “You were choking on much worse than that with Mark Rawlins in the bathroom at the end of the night. Heard it got messy.”

Lacey cringed at the sound of the Texas QB’s name. “Hey, stop that,” she lightly punched him in the arm. “That’s just a rumor, nothing happened, Okay?” Although the shiftiness in her eyes told the group otherwise.

Sarah laughed, her voice a quick, bright snap that lightened the mood. “Ohh, Lacey. You do get a little out of control at these things,” she teased.

Travis grinned, tossing his empty energy drink can towards a nearby trash can but failing miserably. “Mark’s a lucky bastard if it’s true,” he drawled. He knew it was true; Mark had told the entire team as much. “I’ve been trying to get those sweet lips between my legs for years.” He chuckled.

Lacey punched his arm again. “Ewww, gross,” she dismissed his comment.

“Besides,” Sarah interrupted. “You’ve been trying to sleep with half the women on campus since you got here, so it’s no surprise.” She teased, biting her lower lips and softly tugging at her top to show a little more cleavage. She enjoyed taunting her friend.

“Only the good-looking half,” Travis fired back, prompting another chuckle from the group.

Jenna smirked, a couple of books tucked under her arm. “Party starts at nine, guys,” she said softly. “Everyone’s gonna be there. Don’t miss it.”

Sarah tilted her head and flashed a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She really didn’t enjoy these juvenile gatherings. “We’ll roll in late,” she drawled. “It’s better to make them wait for the main event.” Her friends laughed at her self-confidence. However, she wasn’t wrong, they thought. She was the most popular girl in the school, and she didn’t even need to join the cheer team to make it happen.

Lacey popped her gum, nodding. “Gives me time to fix my hair,” she said. “Gotta look our best, after all.”

“I bet,” Travis quipped. “I heard Mark will be showing up again. Ready for round two?”

“Stop it!” The redhead said, pushing the jock, her voice less playful this time as Travis continued to tease. “You’re such an ass sometimes.” The bulky running back held his hands up in surrender.

Sarah smirked. “Don’t worry, Lace,” she told her friend. “I’ll keep you out of trouble this time.” She giggled. “You’re a magnet for controversy.”

The group laughed before going their separate ways to their various classes. Tonight’s party was indeed going to be wild, although not in the way Sarah would have wanted.

❖

Sarah sauntered into the Kappa Sig frat house at 11:15 PM, her blond hair cascading freely down her back. Her sequined dress hugged every curve of her body and sparkled under the dim living room lights. The fabric clung to her hips as she moved with a confident sway that kept plenty of eyes on her. She held a cocktail in her hand after downing a tequila shot with Lacey after they entered. Tonight’s party pulsed around her with bass thumping through the walls. It wasn’t her scene, but the Southern Belle of UT couldn’t be holed up in her dorm when the biggest party of the semester was in full force.

Lacey danced beside her best friend, her red hair flowing loose as she twirled to the beat. Her black miniskirt flared high and showcased her smooth legs. The low-cut top revealed a generous swell of her perky chest and shifted with every move. She clutched a fresh cocktail with one hand, and her red lips parted as she laughed loud enough to turn heads.

“Watch out, Sarah,” Lacey grinned. “These parties always get insane.” Her southern twang carried a carefree edge as she sipped her drink. She spun closer to Sarah, and her hair brushed her friend’s arm with a playful nudge.

Sarah tilted her head with a laugh that rang clear and bright over the music. “Every party you go to gets pretty wild,” she teased. The blond took another sip of her drink and scanned the room. She had already rejected two worthless frat boys earlier, but the offers seemed to have died down.

Travis weaved his way through the crowd with his broad frame, shoving past a group of swaying bodies, many congratulating him on his performance last Saturday. He wore his UT letterman’s jacket, a weird requirement for parties like this, with a skin-tight white t-shirt underneath and a pair of blue skinny jeans. He gripped a beer with one hand and raised it high with a loud whoop as he approached the girls.

“Y’all made it,” he said. His voice was laced with flirtation as he flashed a grin at Sarah. He took a swig of his beer, and his hazel eyes lingered on the blond’s shimmering dress.

Sarah smirked back at him with her full lips slightly parted. “Someone’s gotta keep you in line, Trav,” she replied with playful scorn as she tossed her hair. She turned away as she surveyed the rest of the room.

Jenna stumbled through the crowd with her previous neat, dark hair, untidily swinging around as she danced. Her oversized sweater was long gone, tossed aside in some corner, with her tight white t-shirt drenched in alcohol, the damp material showing off the dark bra underneath. Contacts had replaced the glasses she wore daily as she danced with a couple of freshman frat boys, downing half a bottle of vodka straight. As soon as that bitch drank one beer, she turned into a wildcat, Sarah thought.

Lacey giggled as she finished her cocktail, handing the empty cup to a passerby. “Gimme another!” she shouted.

The young man softly licked his lips as he admired the cute redhead swaying before him. “O- of course,” he replied, running off to fill her cup.

Sarah smirked, her glossy lips curving as she watched Lacey charm the guy. “You’re already half gone, Lace,” she said, trying to calm her fiery redhead friend down.

Travis laughed with a deep rumble as he leaned closer to Sarah. “Ohh, trust me, doll. She’s just getting started,” he grinned. His voice carried a flirtatious tone that told Sarah that she should lighten up a bit. Sarah just scoffed.

Jenna spun closer to the groups as she danced to the music. “Fuck yea!” She slurred, loud, and wild. She stumbled into the back of a fratboy talking to his friends. To apologize, she grabbed the boy by the shoulders and pressed her sultry lips against his. His eyes widened in surprise as his friends cheered them on.

Sarah rolled her eyes with a faint smirk, tugging at her lips. “Jenna’s a real mess tonight,” she said, turning to her running-back friend. “You better make sure she gets home safe.” She commanded him.

The jock held his hands up. “Scouts honor,” he replied. “I’ll keep an eye on her.” He winked at the blond before calling out to Jenna, heading her way, “Hey, Jen. Where’s my kiss?”

Sarah rolled her eyes before turning around to scale the room. Her smile turned to a grimace when she spotted a group she hadn’t seen before.

A small group of young Hispanic students held bottled beers in their hands, speaking in Spanish. There were two older men with them, clearly not students. It made her angry; her father was doing what he could to rid the country of their type, and they waltzed in here like they owned the place.

The supposed ringleader of the group, Hector Morales, stepped out with his black cap tilted low over his rugged, unattractive face. His lean, musclebound frame moved with a quiet menace and his faded tattoos peaked out from his unbuttoned flannel.

He gripped a beer with one hand, his dark eyes fixed on Sarah with a predator’s intent. He noticed her scowling at him.

Hector’s sidekick, Luis Alvarez, stood beside him, and he whispered into his boss’s ear. “Esa gringa es la hija de Bennett,” Luis informed Hector. His voice rasped with a thick accent as he nodded toward Sarah. {“That gringa’s Bennett’s daughter.”}

Hector took a slow sip of his beer, curling his lips into a faint, dangerous grin.

Sarah stood and stared at the man, her glossy lips occasionally brushing the ring of her red solo cup as she glared at him from across the room. She didn’t move toward him; her father taught her better than to approach a group of dangerous thugs.

Hector had no such qualms. He tilted his head with a devious smirk and stepped forward, approaching the well-dressed blond. “Hey, gringa bitch,” he called out in English. His voice sliced through her soul with a taunting edge. The intimidating man moved closer, and his boots thudded on the sticky frat party floor.

Sarah squared her shoulders with her blue eyes flashing as the cocktail helped with a little piece of liquid courage. “Fuck off, spic,” she spat out. She generally kept her racist comments between her family and friends. Still, the side of his arrogant ass and the alcohol in her body egged her on. The crowd around them hushed, and a few phones lifted to catch the brewing clash.

He laughed with a cold edge as he stepped close. “Some of mi familia was taken a few weeks ago,” he said, his accent thickening with every word. “Three cousins gone ‘cause of your Daddy and his politician buddies.” His dark eyes drilled into hers, and his grin twisted with menacing intent.

Sarah stood her ground. “Good,” she spat, her voice laced with fury. She took a step back, not enjoying the distance closing between them. “I hope you all get sent back!”

Hector chuckled; she had a fiery temper, and he liked that. “Little girls should learn to respect their elders, princesa,” he teased, his grin showing off his crooked teeth.

Sarah couldn’t stand the condescension, especially from a street rat like him. She reached for the closest object she could find, a green glass bottle on a nearby table, and hurled it in his direction.

The bottle clipped the large man’s ear and smashed against the wall behind him; a gasp from the crowd brought the blond back to reality; her outburst had been caught on several cameras.

Hector ran his finger along the top of his eye, and a trail of blood lay on the tip. “Big mistake, amora,” he said. His voice stayed low and heavy as he wiped the blood away, licking it off with a quick flick of his tongue. His eyes promised retribution.

Sarah clenched her jaw with her blue eyes blazing. “Call me that again, and I’ll aim better next time,” she snarled. The crowd’s gasps turned to murmurs, and a few more phones lifted to catch the escalating clash.

Lacey stumbled forward with her red hair swinging as she grabbed Sarah’s arm. “Holy fuck, Sarah,” she slurred. Her voice mixed with shock and disbelief. “You need to calm down. Everyone’s watching.” She told her friend.

Sarah yanked her arm free with her blond hair whipping as she glared at Lacey. “I don’t give a shit who’s watching!” She snapped, adrenaline flowing through her veins. Her voice trembled with fury and liquor as she turned back to the Hispanic group.

Travis shoved through the camera-waving crowd with his broad frame. “Goddamn, girl,” he chuckled. “You’re wild as hell tonight!” He grinned at Sarah with a spark of awe and admiration in his hazel eyes.

Hector stepped closer, Travis standing between the two. “You got a lotta fire, princesa,” he said, looking the blond up and down before grinning at the jock.

Sarah clenched her fists with her eyes boring holes into the cock man. “Fuck you and your fire,” she spat. “Get the hell out of here!” Her hands were shaking with rage.

The Latina chuckled with a cold edge, wiping the blood from his ear again. “You’re about to be in more trouble than you can handle, little girl,” he said. He stepped closer and leaned forward. “Big mistake messin’ with me, gringa. You’ll see how deep this shit gets.”

Sarah’s face stayed stoic, but she shuddered inside. If this man’s cousins were deported, he was involved in gang life in some way. She didn’t realize yet how true that was.

❖

Sarah trudged across campus toward Dean Callahan’s office, her eyes bloodshot from her restless night. Her blouse clung to her curves, and her jeans hugged her legs. Tequila still lingered on her breath despite washing her mouth out three times this morning.

The hangover pounded her skull after last night’s chaos at Kappa Sig, ignoring the texts she received from her friends and followers after she stormed home following the bottle incident. She received an email this morning from the Dean’s assistant summoning her to a morning meeting. He had surely heard about the confrontation last night, and Sarah imagined he was about to give her a stern talking to.

She pushed through the heavy oak door with her stomach churning. She’d never been summoned to this office before. Dean Callahan sat behind his desk with a gray suit pressed neat and his face carved into a stern frown.

His office carried a faint whiff of old books, and his thick glasses reflected against the sunlight beaming through the arched windows. To Sarah’s dismay, the Dean wasn’t alone. Hector Morales lounged in a chair across from Callahan, the chair styled back to front with Hector’s legs spread over each side and his arms resting on the backrest. The Hispanic thug sipped a water bottle with a faint smirk as Sarah stepped inside.

The blond squared her shoulders and flashed a shaky smile despite the nausea swirling in her gut. “Mornin’, sir,” she said. Despite her deep-lying hate for this asshole, she couldn’t let it show in front of the Dean. “You summoned me, Sir? I think there’s been an awful misunderstanding.” Her voice carried an All-American charm that would melt butter, and she coyly placed her hands behind her back to play up the good girl vibe.

The Dean raised a hand, his voice cutting through her act. “Sit down, Miss Bennett,” he said. His tone was cold and firm as he adjusted his glasses. “There’s been no mixup. I saw the entire incident on video myself.”

Sarah’s heart almost stopped. All those cameras waving in her face, one of them was bound to get back to the Dean. “Sir, I-”

He interrupted her immediately. “Assault, racial slurs, all caught plain as day.” His voice struck an authoritative tone she had only previously heard from her father.

Sarah’s ‘good girl’ smile faded as she stepped forward, placing her creamy hands on the oak desk between the two. “It was just a party, Sir,” she pleaded. “It just got a little out of hand.” She batted her eyelashes. “I’m a good girl, Sir. Honest. I didn’t mean this man any harm.” The words tasted sour coming out of her mouth, but anything was on the table to avoid punishment.

Hector chuckled with a low rasp as he set his water bottle down. “Good girls don’t sling glass bottles at innocent men,” he said. His accent had softened as he laid it on thick. “You clipped me good. I’m gonna live with that scar for the rest of my life.” He tapped the faint red scratch near his ear, and his smirk deepened.

“Enough!” The Dean shot Hector a sharp look before turning back to Sarah. “Miss Bennett, we take these accusations at UT extremely seriously. Your place at this school is under threat.” He paused as his words hit like bricks. “If Mr Morales presses charges, you’ll be expelled. Your scholar will be revoked, and your record will be trashed.” His gaze pinned her, and the blond’s charm crumbled fast.

Sarah’s hand gripped the desk, and her bloodshot eyes widened as panic surged through her gut. “Y- you can’t do that,” she said, her drawl was mixed with fury and fear. “It was just a dumb party. Everybody was drunk!” She glared at Hector, and her anger flared. The disgusting excuse for a man was destroying her academic career, and he sat there smug, legs spread like he owned the room.

The Dean stood with his voice rising firmly. “It’s settled, Miss Bennett,” he said. “Mr Morales has the evidence and the choice.” Robert Callahan’s eyes narrowed. “You better hope Mr Morales has a change of heart.” He nodded toward Hector. “Now go, both of you. This meeting is over.” He turned to his desk, and Sarah’s world spun as she stumbled back from the oak slab. It was just one fight, she thought desperately.

Sarah stormed out of the office, her blond hair whipping as she shoved through the door. Hector followed close behind, and his boots annoying thudded on the polished floor. The Southern Belle’s heart raced in her chest, and the adrenaline ran through her veins as the Dean’s threat sank deep into her consciousness. Expulsion loomed like a noose tightening around her neck. Unfortunately for her, she soon learned that expulsion was the least of her worries.

Gus Perez waited in the hallway with his Texas Ranger badge shining on his chest. His broad frame blocked her path, and his boots stood firm on the tile. He wore a khaki shirt tucked into his jeans, and his dark brown eyes locked on Sarah with a predator’s calm.

“Rough mornin’, huh?” The large man said to the blond. The man clearly had Mexican heritage, and he spoke with a slow Texas drawl.

Sarah froze with her bloodshot eyes narrowing. “What do you want?” she snapped. She wasn’t prepared for any more bullshit today and just wanted to head back to her dorm.

Gus stepped closer with his voice dropping low and firm. “I heard all about that racist stunt you pulled last night,” he growled. His words landed like a punch as he towered over the pale, slim college girl. “That’s a real shot at jail time, darlin’. Aggravated assault with a racial bias. That could be ten years.”

Sarah’s hands shook, her stomach twisted as the jail threat hit her hard. “You’re lying,” she said hopefully. Her voice cracked with a desperate edge as she took a step back. “It was just a dumb party. You can’t lock me up for that.” She had no idea if she could be charged like that, but she was forced into a corner.

Gus nodded slowly. “That’s true. You won’t go to jail,” he said, pausing momentarily. “We will forget all about this incident if Hector here doesn’t press charges.”

Hector eased up beside the terrified woman. “I will likely press charges, though,” he grinned, looking down at her. “Looks like it’ll ruin you good, princesa. Expulsion, jail time. I bet you look good in orange.” He flashed a toothy smile. “However,” he paused. “We might be able to work somethin’ out.”

Sarah shuddered, and her jaw tightened. What was up his sleeve? “Huh, work something out?” She asked meekly.

Hector chuckled and backed away from the college student, heading toward Gus. “Si, amora. I’ll send you the details later.”

“Details?”She questioned, but the man never looked back. Hector and Gus both headed toward the admissions office exit and left the Queen Bee to stew in a hell of her own making.

“Assholes!” Sarah cried out once the pair had disappeared. What was she going to do? What was the agreement Hector had planned? Her college career and civic freedom hung by a thread. She was doomed, she thought.

❖

Sarah slumped on her dorm bed, her hair pulled into a messy bun that still hugged her pretty face. Her comfortable sweatshirt hung loose and covered her curves. Her legs lazily draped over the side of her bed, exhaustion dragging her down.

The blond kicked off her sneakers with a groan, and her eyes flicked over to her friend, Lacey, who was sprawled across her own bed. The hangover lingered from last night’s Kappa Sig party. Sarah’s stomach still churned from Dean Callahan and Gus Perez’s ominous threat. Could she really be expelled or imprisoned for a dumb, drunken mistake?

Lacey lounged with her red hair fanned out across the pillow. Her crop top stretched tight over her chest, and shorts rode up her legs. She sipped a bottle of water, trying to hydrate herself after the alcohol-fueled night. She giggled, her voice light and teasing. “You gave that Mexican thug hell last night, Sarah,” she said. “I can’t believe you threw that bottle straight at his dumb face.”

Sarah glared at her, her blue eyes narrowing as she pulled her knees up. “This ain’t a joke, Lace,” she said, her voice shaking with anger and fear. “He’s pressin’ charges. The Dean says I’ll be kicked out if he does. My scholarship gone, everything!” She rubbed her temple, the fury bringing her headache back into focus. “They think I might even face jail time.”

Lacey sat up, hugging the pillow against her chest. “Calm down, girl,” she tried to reassure her friend. “There ain’t nobody lockin’ you up. Don’t be ridiculous.” She flashed Sarah a sweet smile. “This’ll pass like everything always does. You’re Sarah damn Bennett. Queen’s don’t fall that easy.” She giggled.

Sarah exhaled, her shoulders dropping as Lacey’s words sank in. “Maybe you’re right,” she said softly. “Daddy’s got connections. I’m sure he could fix this mess.” She leaned back against the headboard, and her sweatshirt shifted to show a peek of her smooth skin. “I just want that asshole out of my life,” she whined.

Lacey nodded and giggled lightly. “See? Told ya it’s nothing,” she said calmly. “I bet your Dad could get his ass deported tomorrow if you asked him.”

The blond grinned back weakly. “Totally,” she replied, although her eyes told another story. She was reminded of the Texas Ranger’s words in the admissions office. This was more serious than Lacey made it sound. She was in trouble.

Sarah’s phone suddenly buzzed on the nightstand, prompting her to jump. She grabbed it with her fingers trembling as she squinted at the screen. She had received an email from an unknown sender with a black subject line, but the contents of the text made it clear who the email was from.

The blond sucked in a breath and read the message silently, not wanting her friend to see the trouble she was in. “Here are my terms if you don’t want me to press charges. You live with me and my familia for one year. You follow my orders, every order. You limit your English and immerse yourself in Hispanic culture. If you refuse a request, I press charges. If you don’t use the Spanish language, I press charges. If you don’t try to embrace our culture, I press charges. Think of it as sensitive training. You have twelve hours to respond to the offer, or I go to the police. Don’t leave me waiting.”

Sarah’s hands shook, and her stomach twisted as she reread the email again. He expected her to live with him in some slum? Part of her wondered if prison would be better. Follow his orders? Speak in Spanish? What the hell was he asking of her?

Lacey’s giggle faded as she tilted her head, concerned for her friend. “What’s up, girl?” she asked. Her voice stayed light as she leaned forward. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

The blond bolted off the bed with her sneakers thudding on the floor. “Nothin’,” she lied. Her tone cracked as the 20-year-old stumbled toward the bathroom. “I just, umm, need a sec.”

Lacey frowned and sat up straighter. “You sure?” her voice was more worried than before. “You’re actin’ weird. Tell me what’s going on.” She sat at the edge of her bed.

Sarah didn’t answer, and her hands gripped the bathroom doorframe as she staggered inside. She locked the door, ran for the toilet, and vomited hard - the mixture of her hangover and overwhelming sense of dread was too much to stomach. He panted hard, both hands holding the edges of the toilet seat.

Lacey’s voice called from the dorm. “Sarah? You okay in there?” Her tone was shakier. “Girl, you’re scarin’ me. What’s wrong?”

Sarah slumped against the cool tile with her bloodshot eyes staring blankly. The email’s words echoed across her mind. Her life was unraveling before her eyes. “I’m fine,” she croaked. Her drawl brother with the lie as her hands shook. She felt her freedom slip away no matter which choice she made. Whatever her decision, Hector had her trapped.

❖

Sarah reluctantly stepped out of the cab onto Serpiente Way, her stomach twisting tighter than it had all day. The clock had just hit 10 PM sharp, and the humid East Austin night pressed against her freshly showered skin.

Hector’s email from nine hours ago, accepted with three hours to spare, burned in her mind. After she had painstakingly accepted, he’d texted her his address, 148 Serpiente Way, East Austin, and ordered her to bring nothing, telling her everything would be provided for her.

The street stretched narrow and dimly lit, flickering lights casting shadows on the cracked pavement. Old houses sagged with peeling paint, and porches creaked under barely liveable roofs. Salsa music pulsed from an open window of an abode down the street. This was definitely not the Austin she was used to.

She adjusted her tank top with her hands still trembling as the cab’s taillights faded into the dark. Her jeans clung to her legs, and her damp blond hair hung loosely down her back, still wet from her cold shoulder less than an hour ago.

The blond’s blue eyes scanned the rundown house at 148, two stories with chipped paint and rusted stairs leading up to the crooked porch. She climbed the steps, with each trudge feeling like a death sentence in her mind. The porch door sat ajar. Sarah tapped it lightly and tentatively nudged it open, her heart pounding heavily.

Marisol Morales stood inside, arms crossed over a red dress that hugged her full figure tightly. Her eyes narrowed at Sarah, and her lips pursed into a thin scowl. She had been expecting the blond.

Sarah timidly stepped forward and outstretched a hand to greet the fiery Latina. “Uhh, hi. I’m Sarah,” she greeted the woman.

The dark-haired woman shook her head, her foot tapping on the hard wooden surface below her. ““No inglés aquí, gringa,” she said {“No English here, gringa”}. Her tone sliced with venom as she glared at the pretty blond, a hint of jealousy in her eyes.

Sarah froze to the spot, with her blue eyes narrowing back. “Sorry, I didn’t ask for this,” she said. Her drawl stayed low and defiant. Marisol’s tone made her flinch, though she had to think back to Elementary school Spanish class to understand what the woman said.

Hector and Marisol’s teenage son, Javier, lounged on a filthy couch with his lean frame stretched out lazily. His eyes slid over Sarah’s slim, creamy body with a cocky grin spreading wide. “Mira, esta güerita parece una muñeca perdida,” he said {“Look, this little blondie looks like a lost doll”}. His voice rolled smooth and teasing as he sat up, undressing her with his eyes.

Sarah shuddered and glared at the young man, her hands curling into fists. She had no idea what the young man said, but the tone was laced with entitled toxic masculinity. “Keep your creepy ass away from me!” She snapped.

Marisol slapped the table in front of her. “No inglés!” she yelled {“No English!” }.

The blond glanced around the room. What kind of hell had she stumbled into?

Hector stepped out from the hallway like an ominous boogie man. His unbuttoned, dirty flannel hung loose over a faded tee, and his rugged face stayed calm despite the faint scratch on his ear. He held a cigar in his mouth. The Latino’s eyes locked onto the blond’s with a predator’s focus. “You speak Spanish only aquí, princesa,” he said. His Spanglish rattled in her ears; at least Sarah could understand what he was saying.

Sarah’s jaw clenched as she faced him. “Look, I’m here, ain’t I? I’m not playing this damn game.” She snorted out. It had been a long day. How could the All-American girl survive a year of this bullshit?

Hector grinned. “You will play mi juego, princesa,” he teased. “Or else you will spend la próxima decade en an orange jumpsuit, princesa.” His English and Spanish words mixing to form a unique sentence.

Sarah lowered her eyes. This man intimidated her, and he had her trapped.

Hector grinned at the blond college student’s reaction and held out a long, slim white cigarette. “Toma this ahora, gringa,” he said {“Take this now, gringa”} His voice stayed steady as he stepped closer.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. She had no idea what he was saying, but it was clear what he was offering. She slowly shook her head; she didn’t smoke.

The bulky man leaned in. “No choice pa’ ti, girl. Take it o tú estás out.” He spat {“No choice for you, girl. Take it or you’re out”}. His eyes narrowed, and his smirk twisted, clearly not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Sarah reluctantly grabbed the cigarette, her fingers trembling as her defiance cracked. “Fine,” she muttered, still in English. She brought the butt to her lips and inhaled the lit cigarette deep, coughing as she took it in. “What is this shit?!” She cried out.

“Basta!” Hector barked {“Enough!” }. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a slim black unmarked choker, and approached the 20-year-old. With a fell swoop, he wrapped it around her neck, buckling it in place. The choker ominously clicked shut with a lock.

“What the fuck i- aghhhh!” Sarah cried out. As she spoke, the collar suddenly jolted the blond with intense shocks of electricity, forcing her knees to buckle and almost sending the woman to her knees. She glared at him.

“Eso es un shock collar,” Hector grinned. “Excepto que este collar puede ser programado a mis especificaciones. Cada vez que hables en inglés, vas a sentir un choque, puta.” {“Except this collar can be programmed to my specifications. Every time you speak English, you’re going to get a shock, bitch.” }.

Sarah’s eyes widened. Not only in horror at what she had just heard but also at the fact that she could understand every word Hector had just said. The collar had translated his words to help her understand. She groaned. She didn’t want to understand that garbage language, she thought.

Two men burst through the door as Marisol shouted something in Spanish about them trudging mud through the house. Sarah understood every word. The men grinned and apologized to the woman before they stopped in front of Sarah, their eyes glowing with wonder. Both men carried a stench of weed and beer.

“¿Quién es esta nueva belleza que trajiste, jefe?” the larger guy said {“Who’s this new beauty you brought, boss?”}. His voice rasped as he stepped close, grabbing her ass hard, uninvited, with a rough squeeze.

Sarah yelped, and her body tensed. “Get off me- aghhh!” She cried out, the collar shocking her again as it detected the English language escaping her lips.

The smaller guy wearing an open jacket and black t-shirt snatched her arm and yanked her close, with his chest pushing tight against hers. “Esta gringa se ve como un buen juguete, ¿verdad?” he said {“This gringa looks like a nice toy, doesn’t she?” }.

The blond struggled against him and almost stumbled when the Latin man released her; her body was tense as her fight-or-flight response kicked in.

Hector chuckled, humored by the situation. “Vengan. A la otra habitación ahora. Tenemos negocio que discutir.” He barked at the pair. {“Come. To the other room now. We have business to discuss.”} The two unrefined men followed their leader towards the adjacent room.

Before he left, Hector paused and stared back at Sarah. “Finish that cigarette, and settle in,” he said in English. “Welcome to la Familia.”

He laughed, leaving Sarah alone with his demanding wife, crude son, and a collar she couldn’t remove. She took another drag of the cigarette, going down much easier this time. It was going to be a long year, she thought.

End of Chapter One