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“Could it be?” he almost whispers.
“Kill me. If I start begging, nothing will change. My fate is sealed.”
“When. When you start begging.”
He slides the knife out as I seethe through gritted teeth.
“Andwhenyou kill me, your plan will have the same effect on me. It’s a waste of our time… just do it now.” I sound brave, but my insides are shaking.
“Who said that my plan is to kill you?”
He’s speaking in the same chilling tone he used when we first met him, and he gave his promises of what would happen to me if we crossed him. I refuse to focus on it because I know I haven’t found out yet the true extent of his wrath.
“Don’t you get it? I’m using you to my benefit. At this moment, the benefit is my pleasure. Once I’m bored, and I expect it will happen soon, you will be my payment for the trouble you’ve caused. Now, I haven’t decided how many dicks you’ll have to take for the debt to be repaid. It could be a few hundred, or… maybe you’ll fetch a good price at auction.”
A shudder rips through my whole body, but I only seem to feel it in the stab wounds in my thighs. The prickles pure torture in that bloody mess.
“Which brings me to the second part of my pleasure. Considering how protective you appear to be of your belly, you might actually fetch a pretty damn good price. They love the pregnant ones at these events. They especially love those spawns that come out of you. The things they do to those babies, tsk tsk tsk.”
Nausea hits me so fast and hard, there’s nothing I can do to stop the wave that rushes through me. I vomit on the floor, narrowly missing my legs and his shoes, my stomach spasming even after there’s nothing left. There wasn’t much in there to begin with, since we haven’t exactly been fed three meals a day.
“I’ll die before anyone can get their hands on this baby!” I hiss, spitting right in front of his feet, the thoughts he just planted in my brain so vile, I would rather kill myself than let this baby be born in this world.
The asshole laughs. He fucking laughs and more damn tears stream from my eyes, but I’m not even sure why anymore. Too many reasons are thrown at me.
“Wishful thinking, pretty bitch. I think it’s time to assess that snatch of yours and see for myself just how much you could fetch at auction. Although… a hole is just a hole, doubt yours will be any different.”
No, no, no!
Bartiste steps forward, reaching behind me, and suddenly I’m yanked up, the rope around my throat tightening as I’m forced to my feet. Blinding pain rips through my stab wounds, but the shriek that shreds my lungs is caught in my throat, right behind the rough rope I’m hanging from when my muscles refuse to work and my legs buckle.
I desperately reach up, trying to grab onto the rope to hoist myself, and I’m met with the asshole’s harsh grin.
“I don’t want you on your knees just yet.”
He yanks me up with such force, I have no choice than to rise and grab onto his forearm to keep from falling. There’s no option to debate the pain I’m in, not with the cold blade he suddenly pressed onto my cheek. I find whole new ways to fight through it as it tears through my muscles.
“If you cut me,” I mutter slowly, “you’ll fetch nothing for me.”
He cocks his head, then yanks the rope another fraction of an inch, and I immediately feel the nick of the knife on my skin.
He doesn’t give a shit.
“You’ve seen too many movies, little girl. This is no luxury virgin auction where you end up in some millionaire’s mansion. This is the type of auction where only people with very particular tastes attend. There’s a world of possibilities for someone in your condition. Their imaginations will run wild, and you’ll be lucky if by the time they’re done with that progeny of yours, you’ll still have all your limbs left, or organs, for that matter. They can’t even make horror movies about the people who buy your kind of meat.”
My eyes burn with every word he speaks, and I realize that anything… absolutely anything is better than what he just described. Death before it all is an absolute gift I’m ready to receive.
My knees give out, my arms drop, but he still holds me firm by the rope circled around my throat. Only, it’s not a rope anymore—it’s a noose.
“You’re so fucking stupid. You think I’ll allow you to die like this and escape your destiny?” I spit at him, but cough frantically when he yanks me up even harder.
It lasts a second more, roughly swallowed when his dirty hand cups the bare center of me, his grip unrelenting.
“Like I said, it’s time to assess your snatch,” he says as he slides a finger through my slit, and I manage to cry out in anticipation.
“Leave her… the fuck… alone.” Hanna’s raspy voice sounds from the floor behind Bartiste, almost startling us, but more importantly, distracting him.
She swings backward with vigor I haven’t seen in her since we were brought here, the crack of bone resonating through the concrete room as she connects with the man behind her. The rope loosens and I reach for Bartiste’s knife, but the asshole turns as I’m about to grab it. All of a sudden, he shouts indecipherable profanity as he looks down, where Hanna claws at his legs, pulling and making him lose his balance.
