“I’d be careful, Dante. Don’t want another curse added to your reputation.”
“What other curse?”
I shrugged. “The curse you’ve brought upon yourself by bringing me here against my will.” I leaned closer, noticing he looked older than his thirty-one years—mainly thanks to cocaine abuse. “I plan on killing you tonight. You’re my trophy to show other cunts like you that I’m not going to put up with turf wars or killings.”
He laughed loudly. “You plan on killing me? I think you have it the wrong way around, Mercer.” Losing his mirth, he snapped, “You’re a fucking fake. And I don’t play well with fakes.” Looking over my shoulder, he ordered, “Help bring Mr. high and mighty Mercer inside.”
A kick landed on my lower back, sending me careening forward. With my hands bound, I couldn’t keep my balance and sprawled at his feet. My thigh screamed as the wound sent more blood seeping. A steel-capped boot crunched against the back of my leg, smashing my kneecap into the stone floor.
Fuck! I wanted to howl. But I didn’t. I ate the pain. Devouring it just like I would him.
But I couldn’t kill him—not yet. I had no way of winning against his crew. My only chance was to drag this out until support arrived. I wouldn’t sacrifice myself—not now I had so much to live for.
Tess. Shit, her scent filled my nose. Her cries echoed in my ears. I would see her again. I will.
A foot kicked my jaw. “Payback, asswipe.” A river of blood ran down my throat—I’d bitten my tongue. I kept my lips smashed together. The agony fed my anger, wreaking havoc on my nervous system.
“Alright, enough. I need him conscious for the rest. Pick him up,” Lynx snapped.
Wrath built faster. I warmed my hands by its licking flames. Patience. Fucking patience.
Two men hoisted me under my arms, dragging me upright. My eyes latched onto the closing door. The moment it locked, I mentally began a countdown.
Six hours and counting.
Don’t do anything reckless. Keep him talking. Stay alive.
I had a fucking wedding to go to tomorrow.
Shrugging off the men, I stood tall, taking in the foyer. The typical signs of drugs, weapons, and broken women were prevalent.
“Like my latest editions, Mercer?” Dante pointed at two girls crawling into the entrance hall wearing nothing but a collar and pair of crotchless knickers. Their eyes were down, their skin pale.
My hands curled. Purple bruises marked their ribcages, yellow stains of old abuse, and malnourishment glazed their eyes.
I doubted they’d been there for long but already they existed in a grave, waiting for their soul to give up so they could be free.
“They’ll be mine by the end of the evening.” I already pictured the tenderness of Mrs. Sucre feeding them and the friendship of Suzette putting them back together. And Tess. She would be there—my queen—the woman who glued every part of me into a better human being.
Dante smiled—it was cold, malicious, and if I hadn’t dealt with bastards like him all my life, I would’ve shit myself. But I had. I no longer felt their evil. I absorbed it—waiting till I could boomerang it back, making them suffer.
I liked to think they’d invited the grim reaper into their home.
“So proud. You won’t be walking away with any of my merchandise, Mercer.” Dante laughed. “Your pride on the other hand will be a worthwhile acquisition.” Striding past the two collared girls, he kicked one in the thigh. “This way. We’ll have a chat before we begin business.”
My hands almost broke I fisted so hard.
The girls never raised their eyes, instantly following, crawling into the room off the foyer. The walls were bare of any artwork or personality, painted in garish reds and golds with black carpeting.
It was all one level—a sprawled out estate ensuring rooms were far enough away from the business hub so prospective buyers weren’t distracted by other women’s screams or the growls of rutting animals.
Following, as if this wasn’t the end of my life and just a normal business meeting, I passed through the familiar double doors and into a large lounge. A huge painting of a gun dripping red hung above a fake fireplace with melted candles. The room had three semi-circle couches, all with a small podium and pole bolted into the ceiling before them.
The perfect viewing for pricks and paedophiles.
Lynx sat down, patting the red leather beside him. I winced at the aches in my bones, taking a seat on the end of the couch. My thigh still bled, but I had nothing to wrap it with. I needed to put pressure on the wound—stop any more blood loss.
Hiding my pain, I linked my hands between my legs. “The welcome committee isn’t needed. I don’t want to watch any of your sick fetishes.” He’d made me watch the first time, and I’d yet to burn the image from my retinas. The girl had been one I hadn’t been able to save. She’d died that night from what he did.
Dante threw his head back, chuckling as if I were a world-renowned comedian. “Always such a fucking prude.” Waggling his finger in my direction, he added, “I know you’re not, Mercer. I’ve heard the rumours. Paying women to do tame things in relation to what you could do to a girl you own.” He shook his head. “I think it’s time you stopped lying to everyone—including yourself—and give in.”
Snapping his fingers, the man who’d squeezed Tess’s breast and put a gun to her head appeared. Grabbing one of the girls from the floor, he threw her onto the podium in front of us.
Her face contorted as the pole slammed against her hip. Her hands slinked around the silver structure, eyes downcast and lost.
A rush of bile threatened to fill my mouth—bile filled with blood and the need to butcher everyone here. No one deserved to live. They deserved to be chopped up, turned into worm food, and eventually reincarnated as bird shit.
Bird.
My eyes locked on the black-haired slave, stretching her atrophied muscles, bending around the pole. Her ribs stuck out, breasts were small with large prominent nipples, and she had no hair between her legs—showing bite marks on her inner thighs and a piercing through her clit with a small chain leading to a piece of jewellery wrapped around her waist.
Her eyes met mine briefly. There was nothing left but hatred and contempt.
Looking away, she gyrated on the pole, flowing like a broken girl rather than a sensual mistress.
Five hours and fifty-five minutes.
Lynx leaned back, eyes glued to the girl. He snapped his fingers again, summoning the other slave to go to him. She crawled over, keeping her head low, showing the beads of her spine. Her brown hair was cropped to her skull, highlighting shadows of fingers around her throat and multiple ear piercings. She was the curvier of the two but still looked unhealthy.
Fucking animals.
The girl positioned herself between Lynx’s legs, reaching to his fly without a word. He arched his hips for the girl to unbuckle his trousers, sighing deeply as she pulled out his bent, foul erection.
It took all my willpower to stay sitting and not throw myself at him. Four guards loomed around me—two in front, two behind. I couldn’t do a thing as the girl spat on her hand, smearing her saliva over his cock and stroking him.
“Suck it.” He grabbed the back of her neck, bringing her face to crash against his crotch.
Her mouth opened, swallowing his putrid length with no complaint.
His eyes rolled back, groaning as her cheeks hollowed, sucking him hard. “Yes, that’s it. Suck. Suck.” He shuddered as her lips opened wide, swallowing his entire length. He forced her even further, suffocating her against his pubic hair, holding her until she struggled for breath.