by A. A. Dark
“Got another one for you.”
My eyes rose to connect with a pair of light green ones. Albert’s head cocked, and he licked his lips, pausing before he brought his attention back to the men restraining me.
“Stick him in the holding room. I’ll have the slave put in the system.”
A side door opened, and I was shoved inside the ice-cold space. Only moments passed before my former friend barged in. We hadn’t spoken since I became a scout, but we hadn’t separated on bad terms either.
“Well?”
Rubbing my forearm under my nose, I could feel the blood smear across my face. “Well, what? I’m a slave.”
“And I’m a Master. Is that how it is, or did you fuck up on the outside word?”
“No fuck-ups. I’m just a slave.” I tugged down the hospital gown exposing the small tattoo at the center of my chest. “Slave Nineteen, actually.”
Eyes widened as he let out a deep exhale. “That far, huh? Must be some serious shit going on.” At my silence, he continued. “Okay, Slave Nineteen, let’s get you to your room.”
“You can’t tell them,” I said, lowly. “No one can know who I am.”
“No one will.”
“If they figure it out…”
“You’re a slave,” Albert said, sternly.
“Thanks.”
“You won’t be thanking me come tonight.”
“Red light?”
Silence, this time from him.
“I see,” I breathed out.
“Nah, I don’t think you do. Stay out of the hall if you can help it.”
“The girl? This, forty-two?”
Leaning forward, Albert kept his voice down. I knew there were cameras on us, but I was praying they were more focused on the hall full of cells than me.
“The girl is good, but she does not fight alone. She has followers. Men who not only protect her, but supply her victims in this sick game she now plays. We used to go in. You know, stress relief, that sort of thing. Not anymore, man. When the hall goes red, we’re content watching the action from the screens.”
“Who puts the prisoners back in their cells when it’s over?”
Albert’s face hardened. “We go in then, but they know better. We’ve had to put our authority there. When the red light goes off, they return. If they remain in the halls by the time their doors lock shut, they die. Bullet, right to the head. We had to set the example early. They were smart to listen.”
“You kill them? What if it’s not their fault they get locked outside?”
“Hey, I don’t make the rules. Whoever is not in their cell when those doors bolt, dies. Be smart. Keep your ass in your room.”
“I’m not sure I can do that.”
My words came out almost inaudible. Before Albert could reply, another guard entered.
“Everything good here?”
Pressure gripped around my arm as Albert led me to the door. “Yep. Just going over the rules with the new slave. We’re done. You can take him to his room.”
Chapter 9
Bram
“Just leave it and shut the door behind you.”
The anger in my tone couldn’t be disguised. I sat at my desk seething, wishing there was a way to get Everleigh to open up to me. She wouldn’t. Our conversation hadn’t lasted but two minutes longer before she pulled the plug and hung up. I shouldn’t have pushed her, but I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t she see? Yes, she saw. It was the entire reason she ended our conversation. She was close—so close, it was scaring the shit out of her.
“Main Master?”
My gaze lifted from the document I had been staring at for the last twenty minutes. What it held, I couldn’t even remember. I didn’t want to. All I wanted was her.
“Didn’t I tell you to put it down and leave?”
Derek frowned, and I only realized he wasn’t holding anything anymore. A deep exhale left me as I sat straighter. “I’m sorry, what is it?”
“You can’t keep going on this way. I’ve been waiting for a reply on slave twenty-seven-eleven, and I have yet to get your orders.”
“Eleven? What about Eleven?”
The high leader paused, his lips tightening in what I knew was disappointment and worry. “He requires a board, Sir.”
“A board? For what?”
More hesitation—weariness? I studied my most trusted man, trying to get a read on the situation.
“He killed a guard. Currently, he’s in the White Room, but he must face the board for his crime.”
“He killed a guard? Shit.” My eyes closed. Another dilemma to deal with concerning my future wife. In her eyes, Eleven was her slave, and I had hoped to keep it that way. The scout was meant to protect the boy—to room with him until the tour and keep him safe in case I got Everleigh back before the auction. But murder? I couldn’t publicly excuse that. “The board has more important things to deal with right now. Give him ten lashes and put him back in his cell.”
“But…Main Master, I can’t do that.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Whitlock rules state if a slave commits murder he is either to live his days in the White or die. He can’t be punished and returned to his cell. He may kill again. Next time, it could be a Master.”
“If he murders again, he will face death. I need him at the auction.” Each word came out through clenched teeth. “I have Mistresses now, remember? I need all the men I can get.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t break the rules. You know I can’t. The Whitlock Bible is law. What do we have if not that?”
Me. My rules. I wanted to say it, but held my tongue as defiance and loyalty twisted my gut for all the wrong reasons. Derek was true to Whitlock, where secretly I had been hoping he’d place his alliance with me. Before my change in behavior, he had. Or maybe I was just a better outcome at the time than West and he’d always been devoted to Whitlock.
“You’re right. His behavior does not excuse conveniences. I have a lot on my mind with these new Mistresses. I wasn’t thinking,” I said, smiling and standing. “That’s why I have you. Keep him in the White while I meet with the board. We’ll decide his fate tonight. I’ll let you know.”
Derek bowed before turning and leaving my office. The moment the door shut, I couldn’t contain the growl or need to slam my fist into the desk. Whitlock was a mess. I was a mess. So much so, I grabbed my phone. The need to call Everleigh was unbearable. Anger had me squeezing it until suddenly…it rang. The action made me stiffen as my gaze lifted to the camera I kept recording my office.
“You’re watching me.”
“And you’re looking in the wrong direction. You have to get him out of there. Now.”
“How do you propose I do that? You were listening. Your slave is gone, Everleigh. I can’t get him back.”
“Yes, you can. You’re the Main Master.”
“Everleigh…” Collapsing back in my chair, my head lowered to rest against my free hand.
“Bram, if you don’t remove him from the White Room, he may die. You said this was my fault. You’re right, it is. I should have never gone to the Dragon, but I did. I can’t change that. What I can do is ask you to save him. Please. For me.”
To speak was impossible while duty and love battled. The answer was easy. The consequences were not.
“Are you coming home yet?”
“I already told you, I can’t. I have things I need to do.”
“Then let me see your face while you talk to me.”
A pause, then ringing refilled the room. I hit the video button, feeling myself relax as blue eyes stared at me pleadingly. The rage subsided, transitioning into my obsessive longing.
“There’s my slave. Tell me more of your plan. Let me help you, and I’ll see what we can do about Eleven. There might be something…if you can open up to me. Just a little. That’s all I ask.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“A little blackmail never hurt anyone.”
“It
hurts me. I’m asking for your help to save a boy’s life.”
The sadness in her soft tone had my slight grin disappearing. “I said I’ll see what I can do.”
“You mentioned a meeting tonight. Will you meet with the board to discuss him?”
“I will.”
“And what do you think they’ll say?”
My smile returned. “They’ll say whatever I want them to say.”
“No. I don’t believe they will this time.” The black slip glided over Everleigh’s chest as she moved along the bed and stood. When she began to walk, I soaked in everything around her. There was a table with two red velvet chairs. The walls were wooden…but not like a cabin. A window. Water.
“You’re on a boat.”
“What?” She jerked to a stop, twisting her mouth as her head turned to the side to gaze across the ocean. “I believe they’re called yachts. And that’s not your concern, Bram. We’re talking about Eleven and the board.”
“I told you I’ll take care of it. I want to talk about us and your plans.”
Suddenly, a screen from a laptop was in view and she was gone. The annoyance hit hard until I realized what she was showing me. Multiple different screens were up, some with Masters walking around their apartments, others were maps.
“How did you get all that?”
“We’ll discuss that later. What I want you to see is your board members. One in particular. The top of the screen shows a map. There’s a flashing dot. That would be Master Hunt, your second. As we speak, he is in D.C. Do you know what he is doing there?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing would come. I had no idea.
“Right now, he is leaving a meeting with top government officials. He’s going to get in his car and drive to a late lunch at a restaurant called Dos Hombres. Nothing too fancy. He’ll dine alone, but run into an acquaintance while he’s there. Afterward, he’ll hop on a plane back to Whitlock and arrive a little after nine, your time. That’s what anyone would see if they were tracking him. Do you want to know what he’s really up to?”
Hard pounding thudded against my chest. Nothing short of amazement made it almost impossible to speak. “I do.”
The camera turned back to Everleigh. She was walking again. When she stopped, she bit her lip and sat on the edge of the bed.
“When Master Hunt is halfway through his lunch, someone will wave at him from across the restaurant. It’ll look as though they’re old friends who just happen to run into each other. Master Hunt will ask him to sit, and they’ll smile and move in to talk quietly, as if they’re reminiscing of the old days. What they’re really doing is confirming a shipment of slaves arriving in Japan a week from now.”
“Japan?” I shook my head as my mind began putting together possible reasons. “He’s the CIA director. He overlooks more than just Whitlock. I already knew that.”
“You know more than you’ll admit to yourself. Bram…”
“No.” I forced a grin. “I’m not worried about it. Is this part of your plan? To monitor and foil Master Hunt’s plans, whatever they may be?”
“I’m not a fool. I can’t take on every Whitlock around the world. My concern is over the one I call home, and the man who runs it. You’re smarter than this. Think. What all do you know about the men in your new circle? What do you really know? Aside from their connections and qualifications, I don’t believe you looked too hard into their past or present. That scares me, and it should scare the hell out of you as well.”
“You fear for no reason. Once you return, this will all be over.”
“We both know that’s a lie. My return will mark the beginning, not the end. You don’t tease lions and pretend their appetite will wane. These Masters are in a feeding frenzy, high on the blood you’ve allowed them to shed. They must be reeled in. You can do that tonight. Call off my search and start monitoring the monsters you’ve created before it’s too late.”
“Too late for whom? You? They’re so close, slave. We both know it.”
“The only one who seems to know anything around here, Master, is me. Up your game. If you can’t focus enough to run your fortress without me there, I can’t trust you enough to keep me and Alvin safe when I return. Prove the Master I fell in love with is still alive in you somewhere. Take back control, find yourself, and see the truth happening all around you. Save my slave. Put those Masters in place by any means necessary. Do that, and I may be home sooner than you think.”
At the video going dark, a roar tore from my throat. Was she still there? It didn’t show the call as disconnected. “Everleigh. Slave!” Nothing. “Woman, so help me, you better show me your face.”
Challenging eyes returned. The woman I loved was there, her stare cutting right into the core of who I was. It picked me apart in ways I couldn’t begin to decipher.
“Where are you, Master? I need you. We all need you.”
“Don’t play games with me. I’m right here where I’ve always been.”
“No…the man I’m talking to is not Bram Whitlock. If he were, he’d already be pulling up his Masters on the computer and searching for the warnings he’s been given.” She paused as my eyes flickered to the black screen of my monitor. “That’s right. Move the mouse.”
My jaw tightened as I nudged it with my finger. At her smile, I tried to deny her words. Bram Whitlock was me. We were one in the same, weren’t we?
“Good, Master.” The picture of her swayed the smallest amount. My breath caught as her finger nudged the thin strap of her top off her shoulder. The pale, smooth skin had all my attention glued to the junction of her neck. And lower. Yes, my stare was dropping. I wanted to see more. To see everything. “What next, Master? Think. What would Bram do if his Masters were possibly a risk to him, his heir, and the woman he loved? Think,” she said more powerfully. “What would Bram do?”
“Kill them,” I managed. “I’d fucking kill them all.”
Her head slowly shook back and forth. “Bram Whitlock wouldn’t be so fast to do that. He’s smarter than this Bram. This Bram is blinded by love. He doesn’t see. Open his eyes. Focus, and the both of you will be rewarded.”
Chapter 10
Aamir
Had I thought the cell I was in before was bad? One guard separated me from possible freedom. At least into the hallways. Now, any plan of escape to save Layla was doomed. I never thought it could get worse than what the guards had called Slave Row. Yet, one act landed me in a place that seemed hopeless to escape. The White Room, as they called this place, was monitored like a federal prison. Not only did I have my cell door to escape, but the one they’d brought me through that cordoned off the hall. Two doors…tons of guards. One I could overpower, maybe even two. Three to four, I didn’t stand a chance.
Cursing and pounding continued from the cell next door. I had seen them bring the younger guy in. He’d fought the entire way, and still, he didn’t give up. Blood had been smeared across his face and his cheek was slightly bruised from whoever had hit him. It was obvious he hadn’t accepted his place here, but I doubted anyone ever could. We were the discarded. The guilty. We’d probably either rot in these cells or be killed by some sort of sentencing. I wasn’t naïve to think what I had done would go without some sort of consequence. I was just afraid this wasn’t it.
“Open. The fucking. Door!”
More banging.
I stared up at the ceiling, wishing I had fight left. A few hours in this room coupled with the reality of what I’d come into had taken its toll. Giving up wasn’t there, but my will to needlessly bang for no reason wasn’t either.
“Hey! Hey!” Bang. Bang. Bang. “Let me out of here!”
“Shut up!”
The yell from down the hall had me rolling my eyes and turning to my side, but the demands continued. Minutes passed. When footsteps pounded by, I shot up, straining my ears as a loud bolt sounded and the door to my neighbor creaked opened.
“Do you have a problem, slave?”
Rustling f
rom clothes and multiple scuffling sounds had my pulse soaring. They were wrestling. Hits. Yes, he was getting beat because of his outburst. Voices muffled—more than likely threats with the grunt that followed.
“Now, lay down and shut your mouth. I won’t tell you again. If I have to come back, I’ll burn out your tongue.”
Coughing echoed at the solid connection that was made. He’d been hit again, and given the expelled oxygen, my guess was to his stomach. The bolt returned, and groaning grew with the creaking of his bed.
“You okay, man?”
My clasped fingers tightened against each other as I waited for him to answer my question. A new round of rugged coughs sounded before he sucked in a deep breath.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“You can’t be doing that. I know you want out—hell, we all do—we just…we have to find another way. Yelling won’t do anything but draw attention.”
“I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t fucking be here.”
“None of us should, but we are. You have to get over that and get your head on straight. It’s the only way we have any chance of escaping.”
“Escape? Have you seen where we are? There’s no escaping this place.”
“You’re wrong,” I snapped. “There has to be a way. I refuse to believe we’re trapped in this shithole. If we got in, we can get out.”
Time ticked by before the creaking of his bed returned. “Do you have a plan?”
My mouth opened, but my words wouldn’t come as the lights flickered and a red glow took its place. Alarms pierced the air, driving my hands to cover my ears. Before I could process what was happening, the bolt on my door drew back and the barrier swung open.
Screams erupted in a chaotic mantra of what I could only assume was panic and excitement. Never in my life had I heard anything so bone-chillingly haunting. It reminded me of a war cry overpowering the exclamations of awaiting victims—of a time no longer lived amongst the normalcy of everyday society. There was hatred in that loud tone. A thirst for the unknown I couldn’t begin to understand. Supremacy. Murder. Lust. It was all of those and more. Instinct told me to run—to join in with the pounding footsteps exploding in the hallway. I took a step, but jolted to a stop as the neighbor I’d seen earlier burst through my door. He was holding a knife, the blade half the length of my forearm, and there was a wildness in his eyes that didn’t match the broken tone he’d had only minutes before.