We stand shoulder-to-shoulder. The goon cuts my hands free and locks one cuff around my right wrist, the other around her left. He steps aside and we walk in front of him. He steers us down a long corridor which dead ends at a large metal door. Opening the door, he pushes us inside. She almost falls, but I grab her elbow and force her to stay on her feet.
She looks in my eyes, tears falling down her face. Her irises are deep brown . . . the exact color of Blake's. My heart pounds and breaks all over again. I've been without him a few days and I miss him so bad it physically hurts.
We're in a circular room with bright floodlights. One-way glass is all around us. It's the most terrifying part of the auctions, no matter how long you've been in them. Not knowing who's on the other side. When I was younger, my stomach would tighten with fear, but now, it constricts with regret.
At the top of the glass are thirteen small, red lights. One for each buyer, and they flash each time one makes a bid. The Taurus likes to fuck their slaves psychologically, and part of that is letting them know how hungry the buyers are for them. I used to wonder what was in store for me when the lights would go crazy during this process. Shannon stares at them as well.
"Welcome Buyers. Today for your bidding pleasure, we have a pair of opposites attract. The brown haired beauty on the left is a sweet thing for those nights you want to rub your hands over soft skin. The raven morsel on the right is your darkest fantasies come true. Pain is nothing to her, if you can't tell. Whether you're experienced or wanting to try the sadist role for the first time, there is nothing this one can't take. We'll start the bidding at $250,000."
Shannon's fingers wrap around mine as the first light flashes. Each time they flicker, the bid goes up $100,000. I turn my head and meet her gaze. Her eyes are large and full of pain, but there's still a small light in them. Five years hasn’t completely killed her.
My desire to free her and get her home is renewed. Most girls lose that spark, that life, after their first two or three auction. She looks so much like Blake it makes my chest hurt. Their cheekbones, hair, and even skin color are very much the same.
"Sold! For a solid ten million dollars!"
My legs shake. That's a damn high bid for a United States auction. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as the door behind us opens. Jax's target is a buyer and I'm sure he's won the bid. The profile on this guy made my stomach turn. He's only been a buyer for a year, managing to kill sixteen girls and mutilate seven others so bad the Taurus killed them. He's also the highest roller on this side of the Atlantic.
We walk down the corridor again and he stands at the end. Number forty-four. Being handcuffed to Shannon is going to make killing him difficult, but I've only got one shot to take him while still in the building. My body tenses as I prepare to make my move, twisting my body slightly to block Shannon.
We stop three feet in front of him. I clench and unclench my hand. He gives us both a sinister smile. Shannon's so frightened she trembles causing the cuffs to rattle between us. We won't survive this guy. There's something evil shining behind his eyes when he looks from me to her, and for the first time in a long time, I'm afraid of what a buyer's capable of.
I lift my foot to take a step forward as a black cloth bag flies down over my face. Something sharp pinches into my arm and my head goes fuzzy as they push a stinging liquid into my bloodstream. Blackness flashes through my mind as the drug pulls me under. I've got to stay awake. This is my only chance to get us out of here. My knees buckle as reality slips from my grasp.
We're so fucked.
†††
~Blake~
Lily's been gone a week and there's still no word from her. I've barely slept and my body's running on nothing but coffee. Going to work isn't an option most days. Since she left, I can hardly force myself to get out of bed. Thankfully, Caleb's running the business for me, and I'm abusing my power as CEO by staying in my apartment.
I never should've let her leave. Every fiber of my being told me to stop her, but Dresden was right. There's no reasoning with that woman once she's made up her mind. I've never felt this way about anyone. Lily is light and life, and she makes me want to be a better person. I'll never understand why she thinks so badly of herself.
I've been on edge since I woke up this morning, wanting her home. I've felt like a drug addict for the last week. My body craves everything about her. Her touch, her kiss . . . I even miss her smart mouth. I'd give anything for her to walk through my apartment door right now and tell me to shut the fuck up.
"Blake, come shoot some pool," Dresden says yanking me from my inner turmoil.
I blink rapidly, trying to clear my mind. Strolling into my game room, a grin spreads across my face as Vlad tosses me a pool stick.
"You two sure you want to get your asses kicked?"
Dresden laughs heartily. "Keep talking shit, dude."
"We playing Cutthroat?" I move to the far end of the table.
"Of course. And I'm going to kick both your asses," Vlad says racking the balls.
"You wish, fucker. You're going down," Dresden says, setting up the cue ball.
I step back and lean on the pool stick as Dresden breaks. They're both good players. The three of us, and Rhett, have used this as a means of distraction for the last several days. Jameson joins us occasionally, but mostly he sits staring at his cell phone. I’m pretty sure he’s hoping she’ll call, or that someone will and tell us something— anything. Jax and Sammi stay in their offices, and rarely come out, while Hayato has spent the last week hacking every communications tower he can hit trying to get a bead on her whereabouts. They may act as if they're okay, but I know Lily's lack of communication has them on edge, maybe even more so than me.
†††
Two games later, Vlad's agitated and ready to hit one of us with his stick. I won the first game and Dresden the second, beating me by one ball. I lean down to break as Sammi and Hayato step into the room, Jax closely behind them. My stomach falls as Sammi's eyes fill with tears.
I straighten myself, an overwhelming sense of dread sending chills through my body.
"What's wrong?"
Sammi sniffles, swiping at her eyes. "Jax heard from his informant."
The blood drains out of my face, and I lay my pool stick on the table, taking a step toward them. Teresa comes into the room, standing to the side of the door, her hands behind her back. She stares at the floor, and I shake my head, denying what I know is coming.
"No," I growl.
"We've lost track of her buyer," Hayato whispers, the pain evident in his voice.
My chest tightens, the world going dark around the edges. I focus my anger where it belongs— Jax. He never should've sent her into that goddamn auction in the first place. Without thinking, I barrel forward and slam my right fist into his face.
"This is your fault!"
Strong arms grab mine, pulling me backward. I struggle as Jax straightens himself, wiping blood from his lip. He glares at me, and in this moment, I hate him. I want him out of my house, and for ten cents, I'd kill him if I could get away with it.
"Blake, calm down," Dresden hisses, tightening his grip on my arm.
"No! She's missing and it's his fault. You never should've sent her in there!"
The adrenaline evaporates as quickly as it came on and they sit me on the edge of the pool table. My chest heaves, limbs falling heavy to my sides as all the moments with Lily before she left flash through my memory like a slide show.
"Listen to me," Dresden says, moving to block Jax from view. "She's the single strongest woman I've ever met. She'll get herself out."
I look him in the face and nod. Teresa clears her throat and steps toward us. She holds out a white envelope with my name written in Lily's handwriting across the front.
"What's this?" I take it from her hands.
"Miss Lily made me promise that if she wasn't back here in one week, I'd give you this letter."
Teresa turns on her heels, a
sob spilling from her lips and leaves the room. I stare after her for a moment and then down at the envelope. With shaking hands, I turn it over and open it, pulling out a letter.
Blake,
There's a lot I want to say, but can't seem to get the words out. If you're reading this, it means I'm not coming back. I promised you I would, and I'm sorry I won't be. God help me, Blake, I'll think of you, every minute of every day I'm gone. I need you to know, if something goes wrong, if I don't survive, your face will be the last thing I see in my mind, your voice in my ears, your touch against my skin.
In the short time I've known you . . . you've derailed me. All that time I spent hating the touch of other people and working so hard to keep them out— it couldn't keep you out. You got in my head, Blake, and I love it. I love your arrogance and your charm, and the way your muscles feel under my hands.
I’ve felt alive with you, for the first time ever.
I need you to know that you can move on. Don't wait for me. You deserve happiness, a lifetime full of it. All I ask is that you keep helping the victims at the halfway house. Especially Sorina. For me, Blake, please. I wish I'd had a place like that when I was rescued. Maybe, if I had, I wouldn't be so broken. What you're doing is amazing and inspiring and please don't ever stop.
God . . . I love you, Blake. There's the truth. I don't know how or when, but sometime between you stepping into that Interpol office and now, I fell in love with you.
I'm so sorry, baby.
I love you.
Lily
She isn't coming back . . . and she loves me.
Tears fall from my eyes as I close them, clutching the letter to my chest. Pain radiates through my heart, threatening to crumble the last of my sanity. I can't believe it. I won't believe it. She'll find a way. She has too. I'm too in love with her for God to take her from me this soon.
Please Lord— bring her home to me.
23
~Lily~
I've never failed a mission . . . until now. The memory of my last few hours at Blake's apartment replay through my mind— all day, every day. It's been two months. Teresa will have given him the letter by now, and each time I think of the words left unspoken my heart breaks.
It took a few days for the drugs to wear off. I haven't been high in a long time and the dose sent my senses into oblivion. Thankfully, since arriving at this location, he hasn't given us more.
He hasn't needed to. There's one door and no windows. I've seen a lot of shit in the last nineteen years, but nothing like Bennington's torture room. Chains, whips, ropes, and all manner of other things hang from the walls and ceiling. In chests, stashed around the room, he has handcuffs, cable ties, sex toys, and god knows what else. It's like being in a medieval dungeon during the time of Henry VIII.
The dark red walls glow in the light coming from dim lamps throughout the room. The floor's solid concrete— makes cleaning up blood a lot easier. There are eight stone pillars, four along the back wall and two on each sidewall. It's a basement, I know that much. The chill never leaves, even when the heating system kicks on.
My arms ache. The ropes binding our wrists are fastened to metal hooks hanging from the ceiling. Our feet barely touch the ground. Shannon dangles in front of me, her head sagging forward. I've done everything I can to save her from the worst of this.
We've spent most of our time tied to pillars near the far wall. He's kept us collared, each one attached to forty feet of chain, anchored into the wall. We've gotten to move around, but I've yet to get the opportunity to try and free us. Bennington isn't stupid. He's rough, and beats slaves damn near to death, but never does any damage that would cause immediate death.
He keeps the key on a chain around his neck. Every day's been the same. Late morning, he comes in, moves us from the pillars to the hooks, and lets us hang for the day. Late evening, he comes back and tortures us. He's beaten Shannon a few times, but most of his blows fall on me. Better me than her. He angers easily, and I've developed a talent for doing so.
"Shannon," I whisper.
She lifts her head, eyes boring into mine. "Hey, Lily."
"I need to tell you something," I say, my voice shaking. I've never mentioned Blake to her. My mind's still intact, but last night, after the flogging I took, my body is going to give soon. If we don't get out of here tonight, there won't be a second chance.
"Sure, what's up?"
"I haven't been honest with you."
She raises her eyebrows, scanning my face. "I don't understand."
"I work for Interpol. My boss sent me into the auction to assassinate the guy who bought us."
"Interpol?"
"I work for the Human Trafficking Taskforce, which as of a few months ago, was assigned to protect your brother, and bring down the traffickers trying to assassinate him."
"Blake? You've seen him. How is he? I miss him . . . " Sadness colors her tone.
"He's okay. Still looking for you, though."
She closes her eyes. "Have you seen my parents?"
"Yes. They're okay."
"I want to go home," she whispers as tears fall down her face. Sobs erupt from her lips, echoing loudly throughout the chamber.
"Shh, Shannon. Don't cry. Seriously, I've got a plan. You have to be quiet."
She continues, and I can't blame her. Five years is a long time to be in this life and it takes its toll. The creak of a door opening echoes behind me, silencing Shannon's sobs. The soft tap of shoes grows closer with each passing second until cool leather trails down my back.
Fear floods her face, and she nods slowly. I growl as the leather belt slaps across my ass, hard, biting into my flesh.
"Good evening, ladies," a high, sinister voice says.
He moves his hands over my body, digging his fingers into each bruise covering me. My back holds the open wounds from last night. Thankfully, this one uses a beaded flogger.
"You know I don't like it when you make so much noise, though I must say, your cries turn me on."
He traces the welts on my sides, stomach, and breasts caused by a cane. His hand moves down to my sex, slipping two fingers inside me. I attempt to jerk away, but it's a futile effort. Disgust burns in my throat as he circles his fingers around, trying to coax a response from me. I stare into his eyes, deadpan, emotionless.
"You're a defiant bitch," he mutters, removing his finger. He grabs the chain attached to my collar, jerks it forward, bringing a backhand swing against my face. The taste of salt and copper stings my tongue as blood fills the corner of my mouth. He turns his back on me, and I wiggle my wrists. He hasn't noticed how loose I've managed to work the straps. A little further and I'll be able to slip my hands free.
I keep my eyes on him, still urging my wrists free, as he moves to Shannon. Her body tenses as he trails his fingers over her breasts. She cries out as he pinches her nipples harshly. The rope gives a little, and I drop enough for my heels to touch the floor. I flex my ankles, pain radiating through my left knee.
Just a little more.
The belt sounds off Shannon's back, her screams pounding in my ears. He circles back, standing in front of her, his back to me again— my wrists slip from the rope and I drop, noiselessly, from the hanging chains, gritting my teeth against the pain.
You're already dead, sir.
He raises the belt and as his arm comes all the way back, adrenaline courses through my body, giving me false strength as I grab it and yank down hard. He yelps, losing his balance, falling on his back. He turns his head, and I bring my fist down into his nose. He screams, blood pouring from his nostrils.
I move as quickly as possible with my knee swollen beyond all hell, to the chest a few feet away. Retrieving cable ties, I hurry back to him, binding his wrists together.
"Get up," I hiss, pulling him to his feet.
I yank the chains down, forcing his arms onto the hook. Staring into his eyes, I reach up and break the key's chain from his neck. I grin, slipping it into the lock of my collar. The
click of it opening is music to my ears, and I throw the damn thing across the room.
I pull the knife from his pocket and rush to Shannon. In one swift movement, I cut her ropes and put my free arm around her. She steadies herself, holding onto my shoulder. I gently tilt her head back and unlock her collar as well. She rubs her hands against the side of her neck, wincing.
"What’re you going to do?"
"What I do best," I say letting her go.
"Which is?"
"Kill him." I turn toward the piece of shit, hanging, bloody faced, in the center of this torture chamber. "Unless you'd like to do it."
"Me?"
"Yes. I killed my first person at the age of seventeen in a fit of rage. It felt wonderful. I've killed plenty of these fuckers since then. If you want revenge, I'll let you have it."
"I can't." Her eyes, wild with fear and disbelief, lock on me as she shakes her head back and forth.
"Fine. If you don't want to watch, I suggest you go stand by the door. This isn't going to be pleasant."
A sinister pull creeps into my mind. I haven't gone into this mode in a long time. Control forgotten, replaced by need . . . a compulsion to make him hurt, make him feel our pain. It's hell— I lived in it for years before Jax found me— the evil that caused me to kill in the first place taking over.
Shannon moves past me, stopping next to the door.
"You're a dead bitch when I get down."
"Oh, no," I whisper in a deadly voice. "I'm going home, but first . . ." I walk to the chest again, pulling out a roll of duct tape. "I'm going to give you a taste of your own medicine. Then, I'm going to slit your throat."
Pulling off a piece of tape, I put it over his mouth. Picking up the belt, I twist it back and forth, moving toward him. It's heavy in my hand. I cut his shirt from his body, the tape muffling his screams, and a smile finds its way onto my lips. I bring the belt down on his back in rapid succession.
The Auction Block Page 15