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Some perverted old cunt thinks he can buy her and molest her and do whatever he wants with her? I’m not about to stand by and let that happen.
That girl belongs to me.
My jaw pops under the force of my teeth clenching together, and before I can make a move, Keisha announces that bidding has officially opened.
Everywhere I look, numbered cards fly up in the air immediately, and wild sums of money are yelled out in a cacophony of bids.
Ten thousand.
Twenty-five.
Forty large.
The sums being offered race past fifty thousand in a blink.
It’s already at eighty thousand and climbing before I can unclench my fists or try to formulate a plan.
Moving through the seated attendees, I head toward the row of high rollers closest to the stage and rip some asshole's bidding card right out of his grubby hands. Ignoring the protests and shock from the table when they can tell, even hidden behind my mask, that I’m not one of them.
It crumples slightly inside my fist as I shove it in the air and bark a number at Keisha that makes more than a few people gasp. Eyes are on me, and that’s the last fucking thing I need or want.
“Ohhh, I see we have a real contender here this evening.” She gives Foxglove an appreciative look over, before gesturing toward me. “Five hundred thousand, for a night with the rarest jewel of them all.”
Big Bambi eyes filled with the brightest blue imaginable are looking straight back at me. Growing wider by the second as she takes in what is happening.
Poe might be the brains behind this auction tonight, but if this goes sideways, she’s going to find herself in a living hell. Hawke had better get his woman on a fucking leash and under control. I don’t know what she thought putting on a stunt like this would achieve.
My feet carry me right up to the edge of the raised dais, so close I can feel the heat of the lights, and I’ve now officially crushed the numbered card tight in my grip.
I’m getting ready to drag Foxglove off that platform, by her hair if necessary, when I hear a noise behind me.
“Five-fifty.”
“We have another contender.” Keisha hums into the microphone, giving me a wicked look.
There’s murder in my veins and an itch to rip my gun from its holster as I turn around. Seeking out whoever the cunt was that dared to place a counter-offer against me. Without looking back at Keisha, I’ve already announced my next bid of six hundred, which she repeats for all the crowd to hear. The hall falls into a hush, only punctuated by noises of intrigue.
The man who raises his number and outbids me by another fifty thousand is a face I know well. He’s one of the men who has, time and again, purchased minors from Andreas Noire. He’s a notorious sadist and pedophile, and my skin crawls just looking at him, with his thin face hidden beneath the mask of the Gathered and his graying comb over. He might be taking part in their ritual of wearing these masks for occasions such as this, but I would recognize him anywhere.
Ivan Victore is involved with the worst of the worst, the ones we are coming for next. And this whole scenario threatens to blow our hard work out of the water.
I’m the figure usually watching on from the shadows, while Hawke is the one those assembled tonight will be familiar with. And yet here I am, forced to stand in the middle of this sea of vile monsters and publicly bid against one of their own.
When all I want to do is put a bullet in this man’s skull and set fire to this place with the likes of him and all Andreas Noire’s accomplices locked inside.
This time, I raise the offer by a further hundred thousand. I’ve lost track of the total, but I know we’re inching closer to a million. I couldn’t fucking care less.
Knowing the monster this man associates with has me damn near crawling out of my skin. A thousand tortured memories come flooding back, and I’m fighting the urge to lunge across the satin tablecloth in order to tear out his throat with my bare hands.
He purses his thin lips, considering my bid. Then the man shifts his head to one side, looking first at me and then at the stage over my shoulder. There’s no mistaking the way his eyes flick up and down, taking in the girl being paraded behind me. For a moment he drums his fingers on the card before finally, giving his head a slight shake and then sinks back in his chair. The asshole is the picture of relaxation; raising his glass to me in salute, and the applause filling the room confirming my victory is only a dull roar.
My skin feels like it’s on fire beneath my suit. Forget tearing his throat out, I want to rip this man’s head clean from his shoulders and shove his balls down his snapped windpipe.
Foxglove Noire has no idea what I’m capable of, and right now, it is taking every ounce of my self-control not to do something that will ultimately fuck up the plan we’ve been working toward for so many years.
The ghosts of the woman who claimed to be her mother echo everywhere in this place, and I’m heaving in deep, sawing breaths. Feeling strangled by this suit, the holster caging my shoulders, and the clouds of thick perfume filling my nose.
I stalk along the outer rim of the stage following her every move as my prize is guided toward the steps by Keisha. She reaches the top of the stairs, and that’s when our eyes meet. Ky and Ven have appeared, lingering back ever so slightly, but they’re here all the same. I don’t need to look their way; they’ll know this shit show wasn’t on the cards for tonight.
