Lola’s POV

The ship was a nightmare.

There were no windows, no way to tell day from night. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, vomit, and damp metal. The sound of the waves crashing against the hull was the only indication that we were still moving.

They fed us twice a day—stale bread, some rice, a bit of meat if we were lucky. Some of the girls couldn’t keep it down. The one closest to me, a girl named Mira, threw up everything she ate. She curled up beside me on the hard floor, shivering from both the cold and her sickness.

I tried to comfort her,...