by Measha Stone
“Of course.”
Azalea froze, looking back to the stairs. She could try to run. She had no idea of the layout of the house or where they were, but maybe she could make it out?
Before she could move, a large ring was lowered from the ceiling, and the hairdresser was there again, along with a man she didn’t know. Had she really known anyone in her life? They yanked her arms up over her head.
“Don’t struggle, or they’ll want you punished,” the hairdresser warned in a whisper. Azalea had a damn good idea what the men would want to see.
She swallowed back the cry in her throat and blinked away tears. She needed to think. There had to be a way out of this.
Her wrists were bound and hooked to the ring. The new position brought her breasts higher and stretched out her torso.
“Might as well spread those thighs for us, too,” another man called out.
“Yes, bind her ankles, it will make the inspection easier anyway,” Bellatrix ordered.
More cuffs were placed on her and her legs spread out past shoulder width. She was completely on display.
There was no more fighting them; the tears rolled easily.
“So pretty,” one man called out. “A thousand to go first.”
“Fifteen hundred,” another cried.
Were they auctioning off who got to manhandle her first before the bidding began?
“Winner at three thousand. You may go up first,” Bellatrix stated.
Azalea squinted, trying to see the man headed in her direction, but the light was still too bright.
She heard footsteps on the platform and turned to see him. A dark scar ran across his chin. His hair was white as snow. She closed her eyes, trying to twist away from his touch.
“If you touch her, you die,” a dark voice boomed.
“What’s this?” the man too close for her to ignore asked.
“If you put your old wrinkled fingers on her, I’ll cut them off and feed them to you before I kill you.”
Azalea opened her eyes and tried to see. She needed to see. The voice, it had to be him.
The spotlight overhead went out. Overhead lighting went on. Still, Azalea blinked, unable to see clearly.
“What the fuck is going on?” a male voice called out in the room.
At least a dozen men rose to their feet. All facing Azalea.
In the back, at the entrance to the room, three men stood, with guns drawn.
Peter stood at the forefront, his gun trained on the man standing beside Azalea.
“The auction is over,” Peter stated in that low, controlled voice of his. Azalea knew what it meant, but the men in the room didn’t seem to understand. No one moved.
“For your inconvenience, the women at the Annex are waiting to see to your needs tonight. Free of charge,” the man to Peter’s right said. He was large, not as menacing looking as Peter, but slightly taller.
“Too many rules at the Annex,” one man groused.
“Then go elsewhere, but this auction is finished, and there will be no more held here. Gothel is closing,” the man stated.
Peter’s gun and eyes were still focused on the man on stage. Azalea needed him to look at her. She needed reassurance.
Bellatrix stepped on stage, leaving her position in the audience, shoving the old man out of the way. He stumbled then ran off, headed to the exit.
“I don’t need all this fucking drama.” He waved a hand in the air.
The men filed out, not giving Bellatrix or Azalea another glance. Peter still hadn’t looked at her, his focus now aimed at Bellatrix.
“Get the fuck away from her,” Peter demanded moving closer.
“No,” Bellatrix yelled, standing behind Azalea, using her as a shield. “She’s mine.”
“She was never yours.” The third man, the one with the short-cropped hair, moved forward, past Peter. His gun was trained on the stage.
“Oh dear.” Bellatrix laughed. “Is that you, Damien?”
Who the hell was Damien?
“Look at you, all grown up. You look so much like your father with that angry expression, but still you have that witch’s hair coloring, don’t you?”
“Get away from Azalea.” Damien came closer to the stage.
“I have my due. I’m owed,” Bellatrix screeched, putting a knife to Azalea’s neck.
“If you release her now, I’ll let you live,” Peter stated calmly, standing near Damien.
Azalea whimpered, feeling the sharp edge of the blade against her neck. Twisting away was impossible with the binds.
“Won’t kill me?” Bellatrix laughed again, a high-pitched sound that sent a shiver down Azalea’s body. “I’ve had enough of your meddling. I’ve had to compete with your family for too long. And now you think to take Azalea from me? Why? So you can sell her in that Annex of yours?”
“I’m not for sale.” Azalea found her voice. It wasn’t as loud and commanding as the men’s, but she’d been able to force the words out.
“Oh? Why? You think this man loves you? You fool! Men don’t love women, they use them.”
“Let me go, or he will kill you.” Azalea looked at Peter, focused on him even while he seemed so far away from her. Why wouldn’t he look at her?
“Bellatrix, there’s no way out of here,” the third man spoke up, walking through the empty chairs. His gun was no longer drawn, and, in fact, he looked downright bored. “Your men have been taken care of, and the women you have locked up below now belong to Mr. Jansen.”
“Hunter? Why would your uncle take my stock?”
“Because he’s annoyed by you, you crazy old woman,” Peter shot at her.
“You think to take Azalea home? Make her your wife? And you’ll live happily ever after?” Bellatrix pushed the knife against Azalea; the bite of the edge made her wince. Peter’s eyes flicked to hers for a brief moment then left her again. “So you can then toss her aside for one of the pretty whores in your stock?”
Damien moved again, stepping closer, but stilled when Azalea whimpered. The knife dug deeper, and a trickle of warm blood ran down her neck.
“Just release me. That’s all you have to do,” Azalea spoke again. The knife moved, more blood ran, and she clenched her teeth together.
“I don’t want to hear your voice,” Bellatrix ground out in her ear. She moved to her other side, still holding the knife and producing a gun.
“No!” Azalea bucked, trying to throw Bellatrix off-balance. The knife sliced across her throat, and Bellatrix stumbled.
She aimed her gun. A shot fired then another. Azalea heard a cry. Was it hers? How deep had her neck been sliced? So much blood seemed to be running down her chest. Her naked chest. So cold. The room was so damn cold.
“Peter,” she cried out, unable to see through her tears. Where was he? “Peter!” she cried out again.
“Shh, I have you. It’s okay, Azalea. Everything’s going to be okay.” Damien’s voice, his hands on her wrists. “Shit! This is deep!”
She was lowered from the restraints, laid on the platform. Fabric pressed against her neck.
“It doesn’t hurt.” She rolled her head to the side. “Peter,” she whispered.
Someone turned off the lights again. The spotlight didn’t return. Voices faded.
Everything faded.
Chapter 24
“Peter.” Ashland Titon brought him out of his haze of pain medicine and sleep.
Peter opened his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked his cousin and sat up in his bed.
“First of all, I live here, asshole. Second—Daniel called me.”
“I told him not to do that.”
“Well, he works for me, not you.” Ash sank into the armchair in the corner of Peter’s bedroom. “He also told me you haven’t come out of this room in three days.” Ash leaned forward and pressed his hands on his knees. “Just gonna lay up here and lick your wounds?”
“Shut up.” Peter threw the covers back and stood up, letting his head
stop spinning before heading to the bathroom to take a piss. He stubbed his toe on the hope chest and let out a curse.
“Yeah, you’re going to have to watch that. Depth perception takes two eyes,” Ash called after him.
Peter touched the patch over his left eye. They’d tried to save it, but there had been no hope. He was lucky to have his life; if he’d jerked in the other direction, he would have had a face full of bullet instead.
“Fuck you.” Peter waved a hand at his cousin and made it to the bathroom without further incident. The pain had dulled enough not to keep him on edge, but he still needed to get used to his vision being only one-sided.
When he returned, Ash sat in the same spot, same position.
“What do you want?” Peter asked with a huff.
“I wanted to make sure for myself you were okay—and given your asshole attitude, I’d say you’re fine. Physically, at least.” Ash leaned back in the chair, resting his left ankle over his right knee. Obviously, settling in for a long talk.
Peter grabbed a pair of jeans from the end of the bed and stuffed his legs into them. “Well, since you can see I’m fine, why don’t you be on your way?” Peter waved at the door. With Ash back, he could move into the penthouse right away. Maybe today.
“Got a call from Jansen. He’d like to know what happened to the shipment of girls he was supposed to get in exchange for getting you asshats into that auction.” Ash wasn’t one to mince words.
Peter snagged a T-shirt from his dresser and shoved it over his head, pushing his arms through the sleeves. “You’ll have to ask Hunter that question.”
“I suggested that—seeing as he’s his nephew and all. Hunter’s claiming there were no girls. Said the cells under Bellatrix’s house were all empty.” Ash tilted his head.
Peter wanted a cigarette. Strange since he hadn’t lit one since high school.
“You really want to know?”
Ash shook his head. “No. I don’t. But I’ll choose to assume the missing girls from Bellatrix’s house have nothing to do with the increase in Annex staff in the last few days.”
Peter looked up at his cousin, tired and sore. “Good choice.”
“And I’m sure every one of the girls we’ve just hired has been given a choice.”
“Every last one of them. A few will be working with Daniel to find their families. But they aren’t staff, they’re guests.” Peter sat on the edge of the bed, wanting to sink back into the softness of the mattress and try to forget the last few weeks.
“Now.” Ash sighed. “The girl.”
Peter closed his eye. He’d done so well at not thinking about her. Well, he’d at least been able to control the thoughts. Mostly. He’d been able to recognize he was thinking about her. That was the same thing, right?
“Her name is Azalea. Or at least that’s the name Bellatrix gave her. I don’t know her real name.”
“Crystal. That’s her real name—but from what I understand, she doesn’t want to use it.”
“She’s doing well, then?” Peter raked a hand through his hair. He needed a shower and a damn shave.
“She’s been released from the hospital. She’s with her brother at Hunter’s estate.”
“Good.” Peter nodded. His time with her hadn’t been long enough. Not nearly. But he had to recognize it was time to let her go. She hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place. She’d been forced, and then coerced. Better she stay with her brother and start over.
“Haven’t checked your phone, then?” Ash asked.
“No. I told Daniel to get me if something came up that needed my attention. I figured a few days of quiet wouldn’t hurt.” Peter scratched the back of his neck.
“Well, asshole, if you had checked your phone, you would have seen that Damien and Hunter have both been trying to get ahold of you. They’ve demanded you see her. Apparently, when you abandon a woman, they have this silly way of expressing their pain.”
Peter’s eye snapped to Ash’s expression. The sarcasm could be a little less dramatic, but Peter got the idea. “Is she okay?” he demanded.
“Physically? Yes. It was a pretty deep cut from what they told me, and she’s going to have a nasty scar, but it’s healing like it should. No damage to her throat or her vocal cords.”
Peter’s hands worked their way into the front pocket of his jeans. He needed to get control. His heart beat too damn fast.
“I shouldn’t have let that crazy fucking woman take her out of here.” Peter said the words that had been playing on repeat in his mind since the second Bellatrix pulled away from the mansion with Azalea.
“Well, it happened anyway. You can’t change the past, and you sure as hell can’t make her wallow it in, either.” Ash stood up, his jaw set firm.
“This is different. I let her down. I told her she wouldn’t be hurt.”
“Fuck, Peter. You got to her in time. What were you going to do with her surrounded by four guys and Bellatrix? Just start firing into them and hope you didn’t hit her, too?”
“It doesn’t matter. She never wanted to be here in the first place. Now she has her freedom.”
Ash shook his head. “You know, cousin, sometimes your stupidity amazes me. If you think Azalea is free because she’s not here—you’re a bigger idiot than I gave you credit for.”
“You weren’t here. You don’t know.”
“I know this much. I know that you are well versed in telling me when I’m in love with a woman, but fucking clueless in seeing the symptoms in yourself.”
Peter clenched his jaw. In love. No, he may care about her a great deal. Because he wanted to make sure every second of every day was filled with some form of pleasure and she was always safe, didn’t mean he loved her. He may think about her too often. And his chest might clench when he thought about never seeing her again, but that didn’t mean he was in love.
Fuck.
Peter heaved a heavy sigh. “Even if that were true, she doesn’t return the feeling.”
“If you believe that, you’re an idiot. Either way, get your ass over to Hunter’s and see her. You owe her at least that much, don’t you think?” Ash made his way toward the door.
“Since when have you gotten all touchy-feely? I think that wife of yours has ruined you,” Peter shot at him.
Ash laughed. “And I’m damn grateful for it. Now get going.”
Peter watched the door close behind his cousin and sat staring at the wood paneling for a long moment after. Checking in on her would be okay.
Just a quick visit.
Chapter 25
Azalea sat on the back porch of her brother’s home, pulling the coat she’d been given tighter around her. The turtleneck sweater she wore irritated her neck, but it was better than everyone seeing the nasty wound. The stitches would come out in a few days and leave an ugly scar behind.
Forever memorializing her naivety and stupidity.
“Hey, it’s getting cold out here.” Damien, her brother—she had an older brother, spoke softly as he joined her on the porch. He took the seat beside her, looking out at the gardens.
“I’m warm enough,” she said, still trying to get used to the idea of having family. Damien had been with her every moment at the hospital. He’d never left her bedside, and when it came time to leave, he’d taken care of everything and brought her home.
She should be more grateful. If not for Damien, she’d be on the street. Peter never had come for her.
She had waited. Once she found out the extent of his injuries, she was so relieved, she cried. He wasn’t dead. He was going to be fine. And she had figured once he felt better, he’d show up.
But he never came.
She’d stopped asking about him after the second day of being home—at Damien’s home. If he hadn’t bothered to see her at the hospital, he wouldn’t now.
Why would he? The thrill was gone. She was no longer his little mystery to solve or his toy to play with.
“I know this has been a lot for yo
u. It’s been a little weird for me, too. I remember you as a baby. I remember Mom rocking you in your room and Dad holding you while trying to play catch with me in the yard at the same time.”
Damien painted a picture she wished she could remember. She never had anything like that growing up with Bellatrix. She’d suffocated her with protection—but as it turned out, it was to keep her hidden away from anyone who might recognize her and return her to her family.
“They sound perfect,” she whispered.
“They were,” he said.
She’d learned both of her parents had already passed away. Which was why Bellatrix had let her go out of the house now and again. Even if she was recognized, there were no parents to return her to. Her revenge had been carried out.
“I don’t remember her at the house at all,” Damien said with hesitation. Edging toward a conversation he’d probably been cautious about bringing up.
Azalea inhaled a long breath. “She said she loved your—I mean our father—but he refused her. I don’t know how she knew him, or if she lived with us.”
Damien nodded. “I’ll take you to the townhouse tomorrow so you can pack anything that you want to keep.”
“Thank you. What happens to all of her estates now?” Azalea asked.
“It’s complicated. You see, Bellatrix Gothel doesn’t really exist—not on paper, anyway, and her death—well, it also didn’t really happen.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Jaelynn, Hunter’s wife opened the back door. “Azalea, you have a visitor.”
“Who is it?” Damien asked in a tone with authority similar to Peter’s, except Damien’s came from a brotherly place.
“It’s for her,” Jaelynn answered, swinging the door open more to give Azalea room to walk into the house.
“Jae, who is it?” Damien asked again. The two of them seemed to enjoy biting at each other’s nerves. Azalea found it endearing that they were more like brother and sister than Azalea and Damien were.
“Is it Peter?” Azalea asked.