by J Bree
The room is silent as we watch each other, me with utter contempt and him with that same deranged possession he always has.
“There’s my beautiful puta. You’re causing me a lot of trouble, you know? What am I supposed to do about that, eh?” He says, sipping at his glass of amber liquid. He drinks many different things, all of them have been breathed into my skin before and all of them now make me feel sick to my stomach.
I don’t speak. I learned that lesson well from my father, better to keep your mouth shut than to enrage him further and triple the rage he hits you with. He stands slowly, walking over to me. The maid holding my chin ducks her head even more and takes a half step back in subservience.
I keep my eyes trained on him.
He can cut them out for all I care now. Maybe then he’ll stop thinking of me as a beauty and I’ll finally be put out of my misery.
“I got an offer for you, you know.” He murmurs, stroking my hair away from my face. I force myself not to flinch away from his hands, even as he starts to stroke my cheeks with his fingertips. “I didn’t think there was an offer I would take over you. You’re a very pretty toy, my brother and I enjoy playing with you. Fucking you raw. Leaving this pretty white skin with our marks. That pussy of yours… it might have been fucked before but it’s still as tight as a fist. I had so many plans to destroy you.”
I hold my breath as my heart stutters to a halt in my chest with something cruel, something far too close to hope for me to handle.
It’s too much to hope that he’s going to let me go, but maybe my father had a change of heart and wants to buy me back? Maybe Louis planned this all along as a way to get us both away from France? I will never forgive him, not ever for the treatment I’ve had, but I’d take that over this hell.
“You’re heading back to the auctions, puta. That’s all you’re good for now but this way I get my business and I’ll get some of my money back. A fair trade for a used up pussy.”
My heart drops at the word auctions but then my eyes catch on the dark stains on the carpet. Maybe the next man to buy me won’t have such ways of keeping me here. As long as it’s not the salivating jaws of the dogs, I’ll find a way to get out.
Anything but the dogs.
He watches the decision happen, it being written all over my face, and he smirks at me again. He strokes my jaw with those evil hands of his again and works his way up until he can take a fistful of my hair, squeezing tight until a gasp rips out of me unbidden.
“One last ride, puta. No point in sending you back to hell whole.”
And then he rapes me, one last time, bent over the dining table, staring at the stain on the carpet while the maid holds my chain tightly for him.
Her eyes never leave that stain either.
Chapter Twelve
Illi
I stand off to the side with the kid, hiding in the shadows so all of the walking wallets don't get an eyeful of little old me. Something about me scares the shit out people and it always has worked in my favor.
Lips looks out over the crowd with a fierce glare, her lip curling as she takes the men and women in. Oh yeah, there are women buyers here too by the dozen. I didn’t get a look at the buyers guide on the way in but there must be some prime meat up for grabs tonight.
I jerk my head at the stage. “We should burn that fucking thing to the ground, kid.”
She smirks back. “Gimme a time and day and I’m here for it. This place is a fucking cesspit.”
It really is.
There are hanging cages from the ceiling with girls in it that are due to be sold later in the evening. Some of them are sobbing, some of them don’t even have tits yet they’re so young, and my fingers start to tingle at the thought of cutting the Vulture’s fucking head off.
How long has this place been here and I’ve ignored the depravity because it wasn’t on my radar? How many fucking children have been stolen and sold off?
I’m not just going to burn the place down, I’m going to find the sales ledger and work my way through it. One by one, I’ll take them all the fuck out for doing this fucking disgusting shit.
The lights finally dim and a woman in a sexy looking skirt suit(?) walks out on stage and up to the podium. The crowd quietens down to murmurs and the clinking of glasses together, a refined crowd despite the zip code.
Residents of Mounts Bay can’t regularly afford skin at these auctions.
Millionaires and billionaires from all across the country and even the world come here to buy their skin. The Vulture has made a name for himself, that’s for fucking sure. There isn’t a fetishest or a serial rapist who hasn’t been down here to sample the goods.
I glance around again and yep, there’s pretty much a full spread. Girls and women of every color, age, body shape, and fucking flavor are represented but there’s only one here tonight I can save.
Her photo nearly fucking kills me.
She’s naked but I’m not looking at her goods. She’s at least fifty pounds smaller than when she’d arrived in the Bay and her body is covered in bruises and burns, cuts and scratches, until there isn’t a single patch of unmarked skin. Her eyes are hollow and empty, too big in her gaunt face.
Fuck.
Now I know for sure she’s taken my soul and made it her own.
I feel nothing but rage and misery at what’s been done to her. I need to get her home and safe, heal her up, and then I’ll walk my ass back down here and start gutting men in her name.
Lips glances at the photo for a second and then away, not lingering on it for even a second. “Do you think you can get her back? Like, save her from the demons she’ll have, not just get her out of here?” She murmurs.
I grit my teeth. “Don’t doubt it for a second, kid.”
She shrugs. “I don’t doubt you. I just don’t think I’ll ever get over what’s happened to me. She’s clearly had worse, she’s going to need a lot.”
My eyes flick back down to her and I size her up for a second. To anyone else it looks like she’s standing there confidently, ready to take anything on, but I’ve honed my own skills at being able to pick this shit from a mile away.
She favors her left(?) side, the right one being the side D’Ardo smashed to pieces. Told her he was doing it as training when really it was to try to stop her from getting so fucking good at killing people, sneaking around, and running. She was starting to get better at it than he was and he can’t fucking stand people being better than him. It’s like a fucking poison in his brain, he only takes it for me because we’ve been as close as brothers since the group home.
She’s covered in scars from him and her fucked-up druggie mom and all of the jobs she’s been on, but I know she’s not talking about that shit.
“You’ve both survived shit. Different shit, but it’s still shit. You’ll figure it out, kid.”
She shrugs, her eyes never leaving the stage, and we stand there in silence as we watch the girls slowly get marched out, one by one. None of them cry, thank fuck. I think I’d lose my cool if they did. I’m a heartless bastard while fully grown men scream and cry, and even when D’Ardo pulls his twisted shit I’ve never really noticed, but now?
Now I fucking care.
I grew a fucking heart and if anything, it’s made me even more fucking dangerous.
The prices the girls go for start in the low six figures and climbs quickly. We hit seven figures well before my girl’s number gets called. The Vulture's men drag her onto the stage by the shackles around her wrists. There’s a fucking gag in her mouth and she’s fighting them off, kicking and screaming.
I’m a fucking sick man, but that just gives me hope. If she has the fire left in her to try to fight them off then maybe she’s not as broken as the photos made her out to be.
I expect a drop in the amount she goes for this time around but once again, I’ve underestimated the fucking depravity in these suits. The moment the woman in red starts calling out for bids eight paddles hit the air, no one droppi
ng them and the price just keeps climbing. Lips blows out a breath when the number surpasses her last price and it shows no sign of slowing.
My teeth clench but I hold myself still, memorizing their faces instead. They're all dead. Every last man who has touched my girl is fucking dead.
The kid nods at me without even looking at my face. "Agreed. They're all dead."
I huff under my breath, my eyes glued to the stage. "You fucking psychic or some shit?"
She shrugs. "I've spent a lot of time around murderous men. I can read you all pretty well now."
Nah, she's too fucking smart for this world. She sees fucking everything, D’Ardo has bitten off more than he can fucking chew with her, not that I'd ever say that to him, better to let the asshole find out for himself.
She goes to move now the entire crowd is captivated in the bidding war and I stop her. "No. I wanna see which assholes want her. I need a full list of who has to die."
She shrugs and nods, and I find myself impressed again. The longer we wait around the more that can go wrong and yet here she is, ready for fucking anything.
D’Ardo has definitely underestimated her.
My girl goes for nearly double what she originally sold for.
The auctioneer makes some fucking joke about the fee as the men drag her back off of the stage, screaming and kicking for all she’s worth. Lips chuckles under her breath when my girls heel manages to connect with the dick of one of the guys holding her, his cussing a shout that’s loud enough for the whole crowd to hear.
A few of the suits around us chuckle and make a comment about punishing her and breaking her of that behavior and I have no choice.
I have to cut their throats where they stand.
Lips is quick on her feet, grabbing one as I grab the other, her skinny little arms no match for his bulk on their own but the knife she has is sharp and his breath gurgles out of his slit throat like music to my ears tonight.
“A little warning would be nice.” She snarks, all talk because she doesn’t look even remotely concerned with the blood on her hands.
“Like fuck. Did you hear them? Break her. I’ll be fucked if I’m letting that shit go. If you’re not up for it, kid-”
She cuts me off. “I already said I’m in, let’s get moving. I don’t need the Vulture finding out I’m taking out his clients, he’ll be on me in a hot fucking second.”
The shudder of repulsion goes through her and I know the feeling. The creepy fuck is bad enough for me, I can’t imagine what he’s like for her. He probably had a number in his head for her the second he laid eyes on her, all girls are nothing but a dollar amount to him.
I drag the corpses to a dark corner behind us, where they won’t be found until the light’s go back on when the night is over with, and then I give Lips a nod to push through the crowd to the back.
Time to get to work.
The backrooms are a dark pit of despair.
Cage after cage, I can’t help but look around at the girls here and clench my jaw so hard it might fucking snap. There’s only two reactions I get from them all; they either shy away, terrified I’m their buyer, or they stare out at me blankly like it doesn’t fucking matter what I do to them, they’re already broken inside.
Burning the whole fucking building to the motherfucking ground might not be enough. We’d need a fucking cleansing, an exorcism, zone the entire place radioactive to keep people away from the evil juju. It’s beyond fucking evil.
Lips knows the guy at the door and with a nod he disappears.
I give her a side eye. “He cool or are we about to be stabbed in the back?”
She smirks as her eyes dart around the cages. “He’s solid. I think my real skill is knowing enough people to go places unseen because there’s no way he’d ever nark on me.”
I hope she’s right, only because I don’t want to have to clean up tonight. I just want to grab my girl and get her the fuck out of here. I’ll deal with everyone else later, once she’s clean and warm and calm.
I keep seeing her battered body every time my eyes fucking shut, flashes as I blink. I can’t stand it. I want to crawl out of my fucking skin at the thought of it.
My fault.
The whole fucking lot of it lands at my feet. I took the money to land her in that hell.
We pick up the pace, aware we’re on borrowed time, and move through until we get to the cages at the back. Great. The cages with pick-proof locks and an electric current running through them at random intervals.
“Fucking perfect. Did you bring a fucking lock pick kit or do I need to go find the keys?” I mutter and Lips gives me a smug-ass look. It looks good on her.
“Please, this shit is my specialty.” She says, all sarcasm and cutting wit, and then pulls a little metal box out from her bag. Three wires attach to the code panel and then she fucks around with it for a second.
I let her do her thing and crouch down to look at my girl. She’s lying on her back in the corner, her clothes nothing but dirty rags hanging off of her. There’s a bump on her head, already bruising up, and her eyes are dopey looking as she stares at the ceiling in a daze. Fuck, I can spot the concussion from a mile away. They’ve flung her brain around in her skull so hard she looks like she’s taken a hit of heroin not a fist to the head.
There’s a quiet beep and then the door swings open, the electric that sang and zapped in the air disappearing at once. My girl’s head lolls around on the ground but she still has enough sense to blanch when she spots us, a vicious stream of French streaming out of her.
The kid crouches down to her level to talk to her, low and coaxing, from the open door of the cage. It’s clear my girl isn’t expecting the French, sitting up too quickly and turning a little green at the movement, but she listens intently, a little frown over her brow. I stay crouched where I am, watching over them both but ready to leap to action if any asshole tries to sneak up behind us. I trust the kid knows her shit, but I don’t trust any man in the Bay not to stab us in the back.
My girl starts to murmur back softly, slowly, and the sound still has my blood singing. Lips nods and creeps forward slowly, like she’s approaching a mama tiger that might rip her face off.
I leave them for a second longer and then whisper, low and gentle, “We’ve got to get a move on. It’s not safe here, kid.”
The kid nods at me and then looks back at my French siren, hesitating for a second before wrapping her arms around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug.
My girl stays still for a second and then crumbles in her arms, just fucking falls apart and that gets my blood boiling, the rage pumping through to my heart until I’m ready to rip some heads clear off of bodies until there’s nothing but a trail of corpses left in my wake.
Lips looks so fucking uncomfortable at the hug but she kneels there and offers her what little comfort she can. Ok. I might just like this kid. I need to talk to her about D’Ardo before he fucking kills her just to see what she looks like on the inside.
Lips gets my girl standing up, helping her stay upright until they make it out to me. I shrug my jacket off and carefully drape in over her shoulders to try to cover her battered body up a little and keep her warm against the cool, seaside night. She flinches away from me but Lips murmurs to her again, helping her to tuck her arms in properly and zipping the jacket up. She looks fucking tiny in it.
I’m getting her a fucking burger on the way home.
The greasiest, cheesiest fucking thing I can find.
“Stay behind me, I’ll get us through no problem.” I murmur, and Lips nods again. My girl’s big eyes take every inch of me in but her eyes are still glazed over so I’m not sure how much is really going into the sore brain of hers.
I want to reach out and pull her into my arms, hold her tight and tell her all about what I’d do to keep her safe, but there’s no way I’m scaring her off. Not after the hell she’s been through.
So I get us moving, watching every last inch of the building on
our way out. Lips directs me with quiet words as we stalk out. I notice the cameras on the way out and curse but she laughs at me, low and sassy. “You think I forgot them? Have faith, Butcher.”
I shake my head at her attitude and push through the crowd. We make it out of the cesspit, into the alley, and over to my car before two of the Vulture's men step out.
"Stealing the merchandise, Butcher? It's not smart to go against the Twelve."
I move so I'm blocking the kid, I don't need her getting fucking killed just for helping me right a wrong, and I palm two of my cleavers.
One of the guys glances down but he doesn't look anywhere near as worried as he should be. "Look, if you pay the price you can have the pussy. No one cares that you killed the suit."
Pay the price, so the filthy fuck wants to double his money on her? Over my dead, rotting corpse will I pay him a fucking penny.
The only thing he's getting from me is a shallow grave.
I let a slow grin stretch over my face. "Well, tell me which account to pay it to then."
The guys both relax and grin, absolute fucking amateurs.
My cleavers are still held tight in my fists.
I wait until they both take a step towards me before I move towards them. My face still has that lazy grin on it, a predator they should be able to recognize but they're too fucking stupid to see it.
"Have you purchased from us before? Let me give you the details. She went for a pretty penny, Butcher-"
I cut him off.
At the throat.
A red haze takes over me and I don’t stop hacking away until they’re both in pieces all over the alleyway. All that’s left of me is vengeance and retribution. Make them hurt like she has. Make them less than nothing.
Finally, when they’re unrecognizable, I turn back to the girls and find them both blinking up at me. Lips doesn’t seem too concerned, more that she’s watching and taking notes. Where has my brute strength come in handy and where are the weak points that sliced that little bit easier. I really could teach her a thing or two.