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The rest of the footage is minimal. Her nibbling on some food, using the small toilet built into the corner, and then curling up on the mattress. She remains still until the monitor beep, and then I’m back in real-time.
I barely have time to come up with a punishment for the guard when her eyes jerk toward the door. The camera angle is diagonally across the room, so I can only see the top of the door cut across the lens. Her eyes fly wide open with panic, and I wonder what the hell is going on. That is until I see my younger brother. Lucas’s broad tattooed shoulders come into view as he looms over her.
Well, fuck.
I rush out of the chair and down the long hallway. The scent of disinfectant and bleach burns my nostrils as I make it to the door and hover in the frame. I pause and listen. I’m not here to rescue her, but to ensure my brother doesn’t hurt her in a way that will cost me my revenge.
Her soft sobs reach the hallway, and I poke my head inside and spot Lucas crowding her. At this angle, all I see is his broad tattooed back and his disheveled blonde hair at the crown of his head. Would she fight him? I watch them both, curious how much spirit I have to strip from her by the time our acquaintance ends. The more, the better, I suppose.
By the time the auction occurs, she will walk through fire for me and thank me afterward.
5
Celia
“Do you even know what your family has done? I guess the better question is, do you even care?” The man’s voice is pitched low, deadly, dangerous.
A shiver runs down my spine but doesn’t leave my body. It is as if a permanent chill is settling deep into my bones. One I’m not sure I’ll ever be rid of.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him, realizing that even my voice is shaky.
The man charges forward until his boots almost rest against the edge of the mattress. Scooting away as far as I can, I back up until my skin kisses the cold concrete behind me. I cower in the corner again like a trapped animal because that is exactly what I am. A tiny mouse caught in a trap.
“You’re part of that disgusting family. The only one with decency was your sister, who knew when it was her time to die.
I flinch at the mention of my sister, and a whimper escapes my lips, even though I try my hardest not to let my fear show.
The man drops to his knees on the mattress, his weight pressing it down enough that I jostle away from the wall just to realize there is nowhere else to go and scramble back to it.
The man’s gaze bores through me. “I should kill you right now. Slit your throat and send your body back to your daddy,” he spits. The venom in his voice tells me he means every word. He wants to hurt me, kill me in the most painful way he can think of.
My heart is beating a million miles per hour while panic has an invisible grip around my throat, making it hard to breathe.
I shake my head again, not looking up. “I haven’t done anything. I volunteer at the soup kitchen. I take my mother shopping—”
“With money earned off the backs of others. Blood-stained bills running red with the blood of your father’s enemies. You use it to buy your shoes, style your hair, it’s all over you, whether or not you like it. Even this…”
Before I can think about fighting, he grabs a fistful of my already ripped nightgown and tears it off my body completely. Turning my face toward the wall until my cheek rests against it, I tuck my hands around my breasts.
“You don’t deserve clothes. You don’t deserve anything besides pain, humiliation, and death.”
I’ve never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, and even my drawn-up knees cover little of my body. He doesn’t reach out to touch me, but something tells me he wants to.
When I glance over at him, I find him with his hands clenched at his sides, the silk of my nightgown balled into one of his fists.
“What should I do with you, whore? What would hurt you the most? Maybe I’ll gather all the men I can find and let them each have a turn.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I swallow the fear threatening to eat me alive. I’m able to hide the sob, but not the tears as they slip from my eyes and run down my cheeks. The bed moves, and I blink my eyes open just in time to see the man leaning in. His hot tongue laps against my cheek, and I flinch as he runs it over the tracks of my tears, licking up the moisture. Distress signals go off in my mind, blinking like a red neon sign.
