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Everyone in the room stills.
The fucking stops.
Cocks pull out of pussies, bodies untangle. The guests turn and stare as the Baron backs up, away from the knife-thrower. Away from Five.
“There’s no need to be rash,” he says, fear rippling across his face as Five moves towards him, her fingers resting on another knife that’s strapped to her chest.
“What do you want me to do with him?” Five asks, and I realise then that she’s not acting alone. Behind her The Masks step out of the shadows.
“You touched what belongs to us,” Leon says, his voice cold, rigid with anger as he approaches the terrified man, his cock all but shrivelled up, lost beneath his overhanging belly.
“I’m s—sorry,” he says, stumbling over his apology and holding his hands up in surrender. “Everyone out!” Jakub shouts.
The Numbers look from one to the other, then to me and The Masks.
“Take them to the banquet hall,” Konrad instructs, looking directly at One who nods, ushering everyone out.
“Five,” Leon says, jerking his chin towards Nine, Ten and Eleven who are still tied up in rope.
Five deftly cuts the rope, freeing them. They leave like all the rest, taking Twelve with them, until it’s just me, the Baron, and The Masks.
“Surely we can resolve this. I have money. I shall pay for what I took,” the Baron says, his hands shaking.
Leon shakes his head, a slow smile creeping up beneath his half-mask. “Oh, you’ll pay.”
“It was a misunderstanding…”
“Did you fall and trip onto her breast, huh? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I—” The man backs up towards the opposite wall, the knife sticking out of his shoulder, blood trickling from the wound. Fear widening his eyes. He’s right to be afraid. Tonight, death has come for him in the form of three men dressed head to toe in black. Monsters dressed like the Grim Reaper.
“She was just strapped there and I thought—”
“You thought you could touch what isn’t yours?” Konrad asks.
“Please, have mercy. It was a mistake!”
Jakub shakes his head. “There is no mercy. Especially not when it comes to what belongs to us.”
“You knew the rules. We saidno,” Leon says.
One minute he’s standing by Jakub’s side, the next he’s striding towards the Baron and pulling the blade from his shoulder. The Baron screams in pain, blood spurting from the wound and colouring the wall behind him in splashes of scarlet blood. “She’s ours!”
“No, please—”
But the Baron’s cry is cut short as Leon slashes the knife across his throat in a flash of silver and parted flesh. His knees give way as he collapses to the floor, a crimson river of blood flooding his neck and chest. Leon passes the knife to Konrad, who takes it and slams it into the Baron’s gut, slicing him open. The Baron’s eyes widen, but he can’t scream.
“You piece of shit,” Konrad snarls, passing the knife to Jakub who takes it and pries the Baron’s mouth open, cutting out his tongue.
“That’s for your daughter, you sick fuck.”
But the Baron doesn’t hear him. He’s already dead.
Internally, I let out a bloodcurdling scream, thankful at least that I can’t draw attention to myself, not when death lingers in the air and violence runs through The Masks’ veins. It makes no difference though. Screaming or total silence, The Masks still turn to face me. I’m alone with three twisted, fucked-up men with no way to protect myself. I don’t even have any words, my voice is as useless as my body.
I’m at their mercy.
“The eyes really are the window to the soul,” Jakub remarks as the three of them move towards me. “You’re more afraid than you’ve ever been. Your courage, it’s gone. Stripped away.”
