Page 40 of Dark Sold Mate

Elle nodded. “Let me change first.”

She entered the house and threw on a pair of dark jeans, a grey flannel shirt, and twisted her hair into a ponytail. By the time she returned, Silas, his brothers, and August were standing by two cars.

“You going with me in my truck?” Silas asked.

Elle would have liked to protest, to travel with somebody else, but the bond was already tugging at her within only a few minutes of not being together. She got into the front passenger seat and said nothing.

The drive took forty minutes. Any attempts by Silas to strike up a conversation didn't work. Eventually, Silas gave up trying and concentrated on the road.

When they finally reached the warehouse, Elle stopped breathing.

It had a different appearance in the daytime. Less ominous. Not a soul out on a deserted house in an industrial estate. But her hands were shaking when she stepped out of the truck.

“You don’t need to do this,” Silas glanced at her.

“I said I'd help.” Elle forced her legs to walk towards the building.

When they got inside, Rael made arrangements and searched with the equipment used to identify fingerprints or trace evidence. Javi was taking photographs of the layout. August was close to the entrance, keeping an eye on Elle.

Elle walked slowly, keeping her eyes along the route she had followed that night. The stage where she'd stood. The area where buyers had sat. The door she passed through when Silas purchased her.

“See anything useful?” Rael asked.

Elle shook her head. The room was cleared out, and all the chairs and equipment were cleared. Nothing obvious remained.

“Let's look in the back,” Javi suggested.

Elle went with them into the deeper part of the warehouse. Her heart was pounding as is brought up memories. The smell of fear and sweat. The sound of women crying. The sense of being a prisoner, being powerless, and waiting to be auctioned off.

“Elle?” Silas stood by her, his hand grazing her elbow. “You're pale. Do you need to step outside?”

“I'm fine,” Elle lied.

She walked further into the back section, trying to think about how to be productive rather than waste time panicking. The room was now vacant, though Elle could mentally see the holding area and the path that the handlers had taken to drag women on stage.

Suddenly, her foot caught on something, and Elle stumbled. She caught herself against the wall, her hand pressing against the cold concrete.

And then the world shifted.

Elle was no longer in the warehouse. She was watching a scene. It was like a movie was being played in her head.

A woman—the brunette at the auction, the one who struggled with her master was being pulled through this very passage, past where Elle stood. Toward the back exit.

Dressed in a costly suit, the buyer came in right behind, his eyes gleaming with viciousness.

They came to a little room near the back. The woman was pushed inside by the handler. She stumbled, and the buyer shut the door.

Then the woman screamed.

Elle pulled her hand off the wall, gasping. She was once more alone in the empty warehouse, her heart beating so hard it felt like it might explode right out of her chest.

“Elle!” Silas grabbed her shoulders. “What happened? What's wrong?”

Elle couldn't speak or breathe. She could still hear the woman's scream.

That had happened here. Right here. In this building.

Abused.