Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
But if they didn’t go through with this plan, they’d spend their entire lives on the run, and he couldn’t have that. Couldn’t have Clover afraid of his own shadow, and this was the best chance they’d ever get.
He met Ben’s gaze and put the stupid laurel crown on his head. “Understood.”
The creak of the sound system had Tank briefly stiffening before he heard Apollo’s voice coming from the speaker by the TV.
“It’s time,” it said.
Ben glanced into a small mirror to make sure his relatively short hair was in order and nodded at Tank, leading the way into a corridor that looked like any other. Blood and chains were absent from this backstage area, and the noise above was the only sign that they weren’t in some kind of factory or office building.
Ben’s shoulders swung back and forth as he walked in front of Tank, and for the briefest moment, the pressing need to break the bastard’s neck and take Apollo out before he could even step into the spotlights became hard to resist. But if he followed the murderous impulse, the chances of all the people who mattered walking away from this place with a pulse would have been greatly diminished.
He would be patient. Like he always was.
Apollo had his own suite in this godforsaken place, and by the time Ben knocked on its door, Tank had managed to bring his bloodlust under control.
The ten seconds that followed stretched like the visit to a dentist, but when Apollo emerged, dressed in an impeccable beige suit, the contrast between his exterior and what he represented stabbed Tank with full force.
“Shall we begin?” Apollo asked, smiling like a pleasant grandpa about to hand out lollipops, and headed down the corridor without waiting for an answer.
Ben and Tank followed a step behind, flanking their boss as he headed toward the buzz of voices. The path led up two sets of stairs, all the way to a grand entryway that not only didn’t require Tank to bend his head but had two feet on his height.
He swallowed hard when Ben tapped in a code, and the two doors opened, letting in light so bright it made Tank close his eyes altogether. Blind, with the lamps turning his shut eyelids into a red picture crisscrossed by darker lines, he experienced the full scope of the noise. By the time he managed to peek at the giant structure outside through his fingers, he knew how huge of an audience gathered for the official opening of the amphitheatre, Apollo’s sick brainchild.
From outside, the structure hadn’t seemed as impressive with its concrete walls imitating marble blocks, but as they walked into the Imperial Box, and the clamor became even more ear-shattering, Tank realized he stood in Colosseum’s smaller, uglier cousin.
People sat on cushions laid out on white steps that descended toward a heavy-duty fence and an arena that sunk into the ground to provide a safer experience for the paying guests. And as if to make up for that feature, a large screen hung across from Apollo’s box, though what it currently showed was the live image of the bastard’s face.
Apollo raised his hands, walking past an armchair that looked more like Louis XIV’s lost throne, and he wordlessly greeted the spectators, who rose, applauding their celebrity human trafficker.
Apollo was busy basking in the attention, and once the shade of a fabric awning stretched above the throne, Tank let his gaze take in the crowd, only to realize that he couldn’t count on spotting any of his friends, even if they waved at him. The lights were too sharp, and the viewership too big to recognize features of people who were here undercover and thus aimed to not be seen. What he witnessed instead was vile human trash, some of whom must have traveled from far corners of the world in order to watch slaughter while enslaved staff served them refreshments.
Sweat trailed down his back when a tiny figure emerged in the corner of his eye. At first he’d taken the newcomer for a little girl, but the sparse bikini she wore revealed the body of an adult woman, only one who was extremely thin. Keeping her eyes low, she passed between Tank and Ben with shoulders hunched, and placed Apollo’s favorite cocktail on a side table before trying to scurry away. Ben gave her a loud slap on the tiny ass and grinned at Tank.
“Like ‘em with a bit more meat, but it seems someone here really wanted to make the Boss happy with this one.”
Tank offered him a crooked smile, hoping this one would be the last woman Ben would ever see. And that he wouldn’t have to walk anorexic-looking girls to a man’s bedroom ever again.
Apollo picked up a microphone, and the noise died down, giving him space to speak.