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My feet move on autopilot toward the light and another man who is barely taller than me emerges from the curtains, urging me forward.
“Go, go,” he pushes, and I all but stumble into the light.
I catch my bearings for a split second before a gasp leaves my lips and I feel the blood rush from my face. A fist clenches in my chest and it’s hard to breathe, all confidence out the window. I’m on some kind of stage, a runway surrounded by bars spread out in front of me. Beyond the bars is dark, but hints of movements and bright cigarette cherries bely the audience I can’t see. A low murmur of voices with the occasional punctuated laugh carries through the room, though it seems to hush when I step out.
My chest heaves and even when it takes me a moment, I turn to rush back off the stage only to be pressed forward by the man standing near the curtains.
“Please!” I beg him as the tears begin to pour down my face and I reach toward the safety of the dark offstage. “Let me go!”
The man mutters as he struggles with me before letting off a short, sharp whistle. It’s seconds before two men I recognize from the showers step out and grab my biceps. I can’t stop myself from sobbing as they pull me back to the centre. I want to be brave and confident, but my head hangs as one of them steps away while the other keeps me in place. The hushed voices speak excitedly, but I can’t hear what is said or see anyone. The bright lights make me feel even more exposed.
Chains are brought out and attached to several latches on the floor before being wrapped around my wrists. It’s long enough that I can stand but just barely. One man tugs at the chain, grunting with satisfaction before they both step off the stage and leave me once more.
Time seems to crawl, but I think it’s probably only seconds before I hear a voice.
“Gentlemen, I give you the Silver Vixen. Prices will start at twenty thousand.”
My skin crawls with the many eyes roaming my body and I duck my head, hiding as much of my face as I can from the crowd. Tears spill down my cheeks and I wonder if the expertly applied makeup is already ruined.
“Twenty-thousand!” a voice calls out and the clenching fist around my heart tightens.
“Twenty-five.”
“Thirty-five.”
My gut churns as I listen to the numbers called out, the thousands of dollars being offered in exchange for my flesh. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see the edge of the bars. How can something like this exist in this era?
“Fifty-thousand,” I hear a familiar voice call out, and an extra wash of fear comes over me.
Eli.
“I’ll end up with you either way. Costs me more this way, but somehow, the thought of you exposed like this, so uncomfortable and out of your element, is worth it.”
A fresh wave of tears hit my eyes, and for a moment I can’t breathe until I hear an unfamiliar voice ring out over the crowd.
“Gentlemen, stop the auction!”
16
Atlas
The Pretender
I feeluncomfortable in the clothes I’m wearing. Brand names mean nothing to me, and I’m much more comfortable in jeans than the fancy shit I’m wearing now. For some, this would be a bonus of being part of the Iron Elite. For me, it’s the price.
I have a feeling I will pay many prices today.
“The initiation is not one step but many,” Ivor’s right hand man, Lucas, explains. “I assume you’ve been told about the first steps?”
I shake my head. The Iron Elite have told me nothing. Kill’s bitch, Echo, told me some things, but I can’t be sure she can be trusted yet.
Lucas raises an eyebrow.
“To be one of us, you’ll need to show you have what it takes to do anything that is needed. This begins with a special ceremony, one that involves blood.”
He looks at me questioningly, but I don’t flinch.
“Whose blood?”
