The Auction Block

by Courtney Lynn Rose

"I said, leave her the fuck alone."

  He brings the belt down across my chest and stomach. It stings and bites into my skin, the rising welt burning. I grit my teeth, suppressing a scream. He pulls the belt across his body, and swings, slapping it against my ribs.

  He moves around me, lashing the belt out as he goes. The welts sting against the cold air of our torture chamber. Each bite sings painfully against my skin. He stops behind me, slowly wrapping his fist in my hair, jerking my head back.

  He drops the belt on the floor beside my feet, skimming his hand around my ribs to my breasts. He pinches my nipples, rolling them between his fingers. I bite my lip, swallowing the screams threatening to erupt from my throat. It's what he wants. Sadists like to hear you cry and beg.

  "All your markings . . . you like it rough, I can tell. My kind of woman." He pulls my nipples downward.

  "Too bad you're not man enough for me," I say through gritted teeth.

  He moves his hands up my body, wrapping them around my neck and squeezes. I gasp, trying to take a breath. "I should strangle the life out of you while I fuck you. Show you how much of a man I am."

  "You— still— wouldn't— be— man— enough."

  "I think we should teach you a lesson in manners, bitch," he says in my ear, letting go of my neck.

  "Fuck you," I snap as the blood rushes back to my face.

  His footsteps pad away from me, and soft clattering echoes around us. As he returns, I glance at Shannon, her eyes wide, full of fear, staring over my shoulder.

  A sharp pain radiates through my ribs as they break.

  "Ah, son of a bitch," I scream.

  I try to breathe as he brings the object down on me, repeatedly, an unrelenting, punishing rhythm. Better me than Shannon. He walks in front of me, and I glimpse his weapon of choice— a cane. No wonder it hurts so fucking bad.

  "Lily," Shannon screams. "Lily!"

  I bolt upright in bed, panic gripping my lungs as sweat beads on my forehead.

  "Lily! Lily!" The screams echo into Blake's bedroom. He's sitting up next to me listening as well.

  The voice registers in my sleep-addled brain. "Oh, no," I whisper, jumping out of bed, the familiar lift of adrenaline in my veins.

  I beeline down the stairs, all my pain temporarily gone, replaced by fear and the need to save Shannon. Protecting her has become second nature to me in the last few months. Crossing the living room, the rest of the team converging in the same direction, I shove through them, the screams resounding through the apartment.

  "Lily! Lily!"

  "Shannon," I scream, taking the stairs to my old room, two at a time. Standing outside the door, Blake and the team behind me, I turn the knob. It's locked.

  "Shannon!" I slam my shoulder into the door, the wood cracking a little.

  "Lily, stop," Blake yells.

  "No," I growl, hitting the door again. It gives and I practically fall into the room.

  Shannon's thrashing around her bed.

  Fucking nightmares!

  I run to her, grabbing her shoulders and shake. Her eyes fly open, searching the room in panic. Finding mine, she launches herself at me, arms around my neck, squeezing for dear life.

  "Lily," she sobs. "The cane, it was the cane. He almost killed you, the sound, the welts . . . oh, god."

  "Shhh, it's all right, Shannon. It's over. We're here, he's dead, remember? No one's going to hurt you anymore. You're home," I say cajoling her to calm.

  "I'm so sorry," she whispers between sniffles.

  I gently push her away from me to look in her eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Don't ever apologize for something that wasn't your fault."

  "You only did that to save me— "

  "Stop it," I snap. "I chose to do it, and I don't regret one minute of that choice." I grasp her chin between my index finger and thumb, forcing her gaze to meet mine. She glances behind me and then to my eyes. "Somehow after five years there was still life left in you. It's there now. I wasn't going to let him take it."

  "What about your life, Lily?"

  "I was dead before he ever got out that cane." I stand, running my fingers through my hair, pulling the long tresses over my shoulder. "It's why I can kill without remorse, and it's why I can take a beating like that. There's nothing left in here but the shattered piece of a girl that never really was."

  "That's not true— "

  "Yes, it is. I'm trying to be normal, but I don't know how to deal with all this."

  I turn on my heel and force through Blake and the team. Stepping into the living room, my knee gives out. I fall, hardly stopping myself from face planting on the hardwood floor.

  "Fuck," I hiss under my breath.

  Sturdy hands grip me underneath my arms and I twist my head, coming face-to-face with a gloomy Teresa.

  "Come on, mi hija, let's get you into the kitchen," she says in a soft tone.

  I lean against her, limping to the kitchen. She sets me down on a stool and moves to the cabinet. Setting a tumbler in front of me, she opens a bottle of Tequila. Pouring half a glass, she slides it to me.

  "Drink," she says, replacing the bottle top.

  I stare down at the liquid, glancing at her face. She raises her eyebrows as if daring me to object. I sigh, bringing the glass to my lips, tipping my head back. It burns, spreading through my throat and stomach. Draining the glass, I slide it back to her.

  "You hide your pain well, Miss Lily." She pours more Tequila into the glass. I sip this one, thinking about the fight I know I'll be facing when the sun comes up, maybe before that.

  "I wish I'd told Shannon to keep her mouth shut. I don't feel like hearing everyone's shit." I take a long draw from the glass.

  Getting drunk might not be a bad idea.

  "You should be honest with them, Miss Lily. You don't know how they were while you were missing."

  "Are you scolding me, Teresa?"

  She chuckles, her eyes softening. "Si, but only because I care for you and Mr. Mason. I gave him that letter. He was drunk for four days after he read it."

  "What?"

  "He loves you. I didn't know how to help him; your team was in no fit state to do much of anything. They've only fallen into this uneasy routine in the last few weeks."

  "I know he loves me."

  "What happened, Lily?"

  "Jax sent me into a fucking trap," I say.

  I've not thought about that side of my anger, and for good reason. I don't want to explode on anyone yet. Tequila might not be a good idea after all. Glancing at my glass, I bring it to my lips and drain it . . . again.

  A herd of footsteps echoes behind us.

  Here comes the firing squad. Let the battle begin.

  I slide my glass back to Teresa and she refills it without a word, glancing at the group of people behind me. I sigh, lifting the glass to my lips.

  "Hello, everyone," I say, keeping the tumbler close to my lips. "Are you all sure you want to start this so soon after my arrival?"

  "Don't start with that mouth," Blake snaps.

  I glance at a small, sharp knife sitting on the counter-top. Standing slowly, I pick it up and turn on the group, taking a sip of my drink. Across the room, visible in the thin space between Blake and Dresden's heads, is a large wooden sculpture. Gently, I twirl the knife in my hand, focusing, measuring the distance.

  Gasps erupt as I send the knife flying between them, sticking it perfectly in the eye of the sculpture. Hesitantly, they all turn their faces back to mine as I drain my glass. Setting it on the counter-top, I stroll to Blake, stopping just short of my body pressing against his. His breath hitches and I don't know if it's from my close proximity or my throwing a knife near him.

  My nerves are on fire from his closeness, and I have to remind myself not to give in and touch him right now. "I told you once before, Mr. Mason, my smart mouth is the least of your worries."

  25

  ~Lily~

  "Lily, could you please refrain from throwing knives near my fac
e," Dresden says, his voice trembling slightly.

  I shift my glance to look at him, his face ashen.

  "What's wrong, Dres? You look frightened." I snicker.

  "Lily . . . please," Shannon whispers, stepping from behind Blake. She reaches up, rubbing her earlobe, a nervous gesture she took on after all the times Bennington yanked on it in the last two months.

  "What did you tell them?" I keep my eyes on Dresden.

  My heart skips a beat, my mind flooding with memories I'm not ready to talk about.

  "Just about the nightmare," she whispers looking down at the floor.

  "Good. Let's not air that shit." I step back from Blake, turning to the island. Teresa kindly slides me another full glass of Tequila. "This is pretty good once you get the first one down, Teresa."

  She smiles as I bring the glass to my lips again.

  "Lily," Jax snaps.

  My body tenses, his voice like shards of glass in my ears. I clench my fists, my teeth grinding together hard enough to chip a tooth.

  "How did you get back here?"

  I swivel the stool to face him. "Monroe."

  He huffs. "You went to Headquarters without permission?"

  I want to kick him in the face.

  "I don't need your fucking permission anymore."

  "As of tonight, you're off this team. In the morning, you'll go home," he says, his voice dripping with authority.

  "I'm pretty sure Monroe's orders supersede yours."

  "Which are?" Jax takes a step forward.

  "He says I stay on assignment."

  "Does he know of your and Mason's unprofessional relationship?"

  I smile. "He does."

  "Lucky for me, I know people higher than Monroe. You're going home."

  The dam holding back my emotions breaks into a million pieces. I launch off the stool and put a right hook into the side of Jax's face. Catching him by surprise, he falls, landing on his right knee.

  I steady myself, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Lifting my leg, I bring my foot down into his ribs, sending him sprawling across the floor. I was trained well, too well. He rolls onto his stomach, pushing up on his hands and knees. I plant my foot in his ribs, knocking him back on his side.

  "You sent me in fucking blind! You didn't even bother to let Interpol know I was going in. Monroe had no fucking idea I was missing until I showed up with that girl at his office in the middle of the night!"

  Jax staggers to his feet, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "They didn't need to know, it was an easy case."

  "Easy! Easy! You think being tied up; having the shit kicked out of me for two months is fucking easy?"

  He opens his mouth and I slam my fist into the side of his face, again. He staggers backward.

  A strong embrace crushes my arms to my sides, and I twist and thrash trying to throw them off. "Let me go!"

  "He isn't worth it, Lily," Vlad hisses in my ear.

  "Let me go," I scream, my voice cracking as the tears flow, unwanted, from my eyes. "Fuck!"

  The energy drains from my veins, leaving extreme pain in its wake. I sag against Vlad's arms. Dragging my feet, he pulls me across the room, up the stairs, and into Blake's bedroom. Standing in the middle of the room, he steadies me, keeping his arms firmly around my waist. The door slams and I jump at the sound.

  "Dresden, call Monroe in the morning. I want Jax gone," Blake snaps, his voice full of anger.

  "With pleasure," Dresden says.

  "Vlad, let her go," Sammi says softly.

  Slowly, his arms release me and I stagger forward, putting my hands out to hold myself up against the wall next to the bathroom door, my vision interrupted by black, dancing spots.

  Fuck, I hate this.

  I lift my head, slightly, noticing a glass vase atop the dresser to my right as my head clears. I grab it, spin around and throw it, hitting the closed bedroom door— sinking to my knees, fisting my hands in my hair.

  "I can't do this anymore," I whisper.

  "Lily," Blake breathes.

  "I should’ve eaten a bullet years ago."

  "Oh, Lily, don't talk like that," Sammi gasps, sinking next to me. "We know you're hurting, tell us how to help, please."

  "I need to do something."

  "Okay, what do you need to do?" Dresden says, apprehension saturating his tone.

  "Keep count," I whisper, shakily getting to my feet. "Blake, where's my duffel bag?"

  He raises his eyebrows. "In the closet."

  I turn and stumble to the walk-in. My bag lies just inside the door. I squat down, yanking open the zipper. From inside, I pull out a silver ring with a plain cross on it. I turn and briskly walk from the bedroom, stepping on broken glass. With the others on my heels, I trudge into the kitchen, ignoring Teresa and the team.

  Stopping in front of the stove, my foot slipping slightly as blood seeps from my heel, I turn the gas burner on high, the bluish red flames dancing. I drop the ring into the fire and watch as it heats.

  "Lily, what’re you doing?" Fear is back in Dresden's voice.

  "If any of you touch me for the next ten minutes, I swear to god, I’ll slit your throats in your sleep."

  The ring glows a light red color— almost ready. I step back from the stove, and pull my left leg out of my sweat pants. Flipping off the burner, I grab two towels and pull the ring out using one of them. Sinking to the floor, I stretch my leg out, and position it just below the last brand on my leg.

  "Jesus Christ, Lily, what the fuck are you doing?" Dresden yells, stepping forward.

  “Let her be, Dres,” Jameson says softly but with more authority than he ever has. He walks over to me and squats down, taking the second towel in both hands, and stretching it out in front of my face.

  Just as I press the hot metal to my skin, Jameson moves the towel forward for me to bite into. I press down harder, grinding my teeth into the towel, muffling the scream pushing out of my throat. Dropping the ring on the floor, I sag against the cabinets and he pulls the rag from my jaws, my breathing heavy. I close my eyes as the new brand pulses.

  My breathing finally falls to a normal rhythm. I open my eyes and slide my leg back into my pants, wincing as the cotton rubs against the burn. I glance up to several pairs of eyes staring at me in mixtures of horror and pain. Strangely enough, Jameson is the only one looking at the brand and not my face.

  Hi, this is the real me. Nice to meet you finally. I chuckle at the thought.

  "What's so funny?" Shannon sinks next to me on the floor as Jameson stands and tosses the towel on the counter before going to stand with the rest of the team, his face stoic and unreadable.

  I give her a sad grin. "They all thought they knew me." I reach over and wrap my hand in hers. She squeezes it tightly. "But in truth, those two months with you, was more the real me then the ten years with my team or the short time with your brother before coming into that auction."

  "I don't think that's true," she says looking into my eyes. "I think the woman that saved me and endured hell, the hard, calculated woman your teams knows, the woman my brother is apparently in love with . . . " she shakes her head in disbelief. "The woman I watched hug a young girl yesterday like it was her lifeline . . . they're all one in the same. Facets of a shattered personality that needs to find a way to heal and be one amazing individual again."

  "People don't fix shattered things, they throw them away," I whisper, running my free hand through my hair.

  "Look around, Lily. No one's throwing you away, but you have to try to let us in, let us help you, no matter how hard it is."

  "I don't know how."

  "For starters, you need to talk. Let them know what happened. I need to talk, or the things I saw . . . what I watched you do . . . it's going to eat away at me."

  "Okay . . . but can it wait until I've had more sleep?"

  "Of course." She leans over and presses her lips, in a chaste kiss, on my cheek.

  Standing, she holds her hand out. I place mine in i
t, and as I try to stand, Teresa grabs my hips and helps. I'm exhausted and in so much pain, I could scream.

  "Fuck me," I mutter, limping forward.

  "What's wrong?" Blake asks, panic in his voice.

  "Everything hurts."

  He moves toward me, his eyes on mine, and gently sweeps me into his arms. I lay my head on his shoulder, my eyes closing against my will.

  He smells wonderful.

  He takes me back to his bedroom.

  "Thank you," I whisper, nuzzling my face into his neck.

  "Sleep baby, we'll talk to everyone in the morning." Laying me on the bed, he turns off the lights and crawls in beside me, gently pulling me into his arms.

  I wince, my ribs protesting the pressure.

  "Shit, sorry," he mutters, kissing my hair. He hums a melody I've never heard, and I drift back into blackness, a sweet revelation clinging to the inside of my mind.

  †††

  Standing in the shower, the hot water stings the wounds on my body. I've roughly scrubbed myself and possibly taken off several layers of skin in the process. I turn the faucets off and step into the main bathroom, holding a warm towel over the front of me.

  Fuck, I look terrible.

  The bruise covering the side of my face is a light blue and yellow. The swelling has disappeared some since yesterday and my face is back to the proper shape. It's going to take forever for all this to heal fully, though.

  I dry my hair and braid it to the side. Heading into Blake's closet, I find my only pair of shorts and a tank top and throw them on. I search through my duffel bag, finding my emergency pack of cigarettes and lighter. I don’t smoke often, just when I get stressed to the point that I feel like I’m losing my damn mind— which is exactly where I’m at.

  Descending the stairs, I'm greeted by thunderous voices coming from the living room. Rounding the corner, I halt, glancing at the faces deep in argument— my entire team, Hyde Monroe, Blake, Shannon, Teresa, and both his parents. My eyes widen. Christ, it's like a high school fight after the homecoming football game.

  "Hey!"

  No one hears me. I turn on my heels and hurry back to Blake's bedroom. In my duffel bag, I pull out my handgun, checking the clip. Returning to the living room, everyone's still shouting.