Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Making it impossible for her to see me.
To see that I’ve come for her.
42
Scarlett
“You won’t be walking out of here tonight.”
Did she mean that literally? Because if this is Felix’s plan for me, then I’ll be fucked by every man out there in turn.
I hear the woot of the onlookers once the curtain is fully raised. I can’t see much of them and I think that’s on purpose. The spotlight follows me even when I turn my head.
A man calls out a ridiculous number and makes a lewd comment. Several laugh out loud as the auctioneer chuckles into his microphone, tapping his gavel twice to get everyone’s attention.
“You haven’t even seen it all yet,” he notes in a sing-song voice.
Two sets of hands take hold of my arms and force me to turn. When they do, I catch a glimpse of the blinking red light coming from the top corner of the room.
Felix is recording this. Is it for me? Well, I should say is it for him? To show those who won’t pledge loyalty to him what happens if you are his enemy? Or is it to hold onto after these men leave. Material to blackmail them when it suits him.
Not that it matters one way or the other for me. My ending doesn’t change, camera or no camera.
The soldiers pull me forward making me bend all the way over. I fight but it’s no use. I can see them now, the men in the room. The spotlight is on another part of my anatomy and now I can see their faces. There’s more than a dozen of them.
The auctioneer describes my attributes as I’m held down. One of the soldiers twists his hand in my hair when I try to move, forcing my gaze into the room. I close my eyes, feel hot tears burn my face.
This is my end? Attacked by these men then murdered? Diego and Angel were lucky then.
I think about Cristiano. Dead already. I think about Noah out there. God, please let him be safe. Please don’t let him be waiting for me. Searching for me.
I think about Mara with that man.
The things she has seen. The things she has yet to see.
I think about those other girls already sold tonight. And the barn the woman mentioned.
I steel myself, open my eyes just as I’m straightened, lifted, turned so quickly I stumble, dizzy with the rush of blood.
For a brief instant, my mind plays a trick on me. Because what I’m seeing can’t be real. It can’t be him. But there, for the briefest instant before the spotlight shines in my eyes, I see Cristiano.
I’d recognize his eyes in a crowd of a hundred. A thousand.
Cristiano.
I blink, try to see him again, but I’m blinded once more. All I can do is stand there and listen to the monsters call out numbers. Hear them buy parts of my body, my soul. Hear the gavel slam down as those sales are recorded.
And just as I’m lifted off the pedestal and carried off the stage, as if on cue, lightning crashes overhead and the lights go out.
43
Cristiano
The room goes sideways, my brain rattling against my skull.
Dante’s hand closes swiftly over my shoulder. “Steady.”
I fist my hands, clenching and unclenching, my blood boiling. I reach blindly for my gun.
“Hey.” Dante steps in front of me, voice firm as he takes my arms and shakes me hard.
I blink. Focus my eyes.
The lights have gone out. The room is lit only by candles now. More are being lit around us.
My vision adjusts after a moment. When it does, I see the table in the far corner that had been unoccupied before, busy now. A man sits behind it punching numbers into a machine while another man dictates to him. One of the attendees.
“Good,” Dante says. “Focus. You take your pistol out here and she’s as good as dead.”
I nod, my eyes on the back of the man paying for his turn at Scarlett.
“First. Lucky bastard,” the accountant says, standing to shake the man’s hand once the transaction is complete. “I hope there will be something left when I take a turn.”
The man laughs, pats the accountant on the shoulder with a big, meaty hand. He must weigh four-hundred pounds.
“Carlos,” the accountant calls. “If you’ll show our guest the way.”
Carlos steps forward, nods. He’s a big guy and armed. He walks ahead of the fat man and they slip through a door at the far corner. Another solider promptly steps in front of the door to block anyone else from passing through.
I take another step toward it. Meet the soldier’s eyes.
“Cris,” Dante says, voice low but firm. “Focus.”
I nod, turn to look around the room again. A door opens at the far end and one of the men reenters as he zips his pants.