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A long, solid piece of metal gets held up for me to look at, fire red at one end. I stare through the smoke, trying to make out what the hell it is, and finally make the connection.
They’re branding them. Like fucking cattle.
“We do this with all of them,” Dragon says as he stands and looks at me. He tilts his head, looks me up and down, and then holds the metal out to me so I can get a real good look. It’s got some C symbol on the end of it, and the heat is enough for me to take a step backwards. “You got a problem with that, Reed?” Yes. No. Either way, this wasn’t part of the deal. Branding them? Who does that sort of thing?
It’s fucking barbaric.
He eventually moves over to a small metal box in the corner of the room. The rod gets put inside it, one end still hanging out, and he wipes his hands on the rag he’s holding.
“You don't like the sound of screams?” he questions, putting some ointment on his hands. “Didn't have you down as a pussy, Reed.” My neck cracks, irritation building. “Although, you've not shown anything but that. You always nod like a fucking dog?”
The base of the girl’s foot gets smothered with the cream, and then he’s taping it up with pads and gauze. “Next one,” he says.
Elias hauls her out of the room, barely caring for the fact that she can’t do anything other than hop beside him and cry. I watch Dragon wiping his sweat laden arms down and then watch him drink a bottle of beer calmly. He’s a fucking maniac. He’s branding women and then just casually having a beer? If his presence wasn’t making me question what I’ve got to defend myself with, his clear fucking insanity definitely is.
He chuckles to himself about something, wipes more sweat from his skin. “You wanna try, Reed? It’s a buzz.” His hand goes around the back of his neck, the rag pulled through his hair. “I like the smell. Reminds me of my younger days.” I can’t do anything but keep my hands in my pockets and stare at his back. They’re not dying, or being beaten, I guess, but fuck, I can’t wrap my head around it. Branding?
Before I’ve caught some sense, Elias is back in the room with my little elf’s sister in tow. Everything about me stiffens as she looks at me and gets pulled towards the table. He dumps her on it and chuckles, looks me right in the eye to make his point felt. He fucking knows, doesn’t he? Just like Dragon does.
I'm starting to care.
Dragon gets up and goes for the metal box in the corner. He looks at me just as long as Elias did. In fact, he waits in front of me, hovers the branding iron in my face as if willing me, once again, to fuck up. “You sure you don’t want to do it? I don’t mind sharing the fun. You're looking excitable.” I’m damn well struggling as he turns to sit back down. I can feel it inside of me. Every single thought I’ve got about owning someone, of having some connection I shouldn’t have, is brimming to the surface. Anger, revulsion. Even pity seems to be finding a way into my cold, black heart, and that's causing me a problem.
I shift my gaze to her, watch as she tries to skitter out of Elias’s hold. She hasn’t got a chance, and unless I do something, she’s going to be as branded as the rest of them. It all happens too quickly for me to process. The rod goes to the sole of her foot. She screams. And my hand tries to stop Dragon’s arm on automatic.
I don’t even know where I am in my head as I yank him backwards, but he tips off the stool, drops the rod, and braces to lift himself straight back up in my face. Something cracks in the seconds, splinters, like glass, and the next thing I know, I’m sent crashing off the back wall with agonising pain slicing my face.
Steadying myself, I turn and lash out. One punch lands hard on him, enough that it throws him back at the table and sends her stumbling to the floor. More punches get thrown, some of them landing, others missing as he gets hold of me. The table smashes over, and I see both the girl and Elias shift sideways in my vision.
Next thing I know, I’m falling hard on my back, and then eventually there’s nothing but his face looming over me and all hell breaking loose on his features.
His hand holds my throat, booted foot bracing my dick. “You done?” he asks.
I’m panting and still full of fucking rage and fury. I don’t even know what about anymore. Just all this. And now I’m down with no fucking way of getting up, and Elias is laughing in the background as if my wrath is amusing to him.
The continued laughing, as his foot and hand eases off me, incenses me. And Dragon’s own chuckle, a low, maniacal chuckle that seems to fill the room with mania and insanity, fills me with vengeance.
“Get up, Reed. Glad to have finally made your acquaintance.” I shunt backwards, picking myself up to brush the shit off me. “You’ve been holding that in for a while.”
He’s fucking right I have.
And now it’s more potent than it’s ever been.
I lift a hand to my face, trying to work out what the fuck happened to cause so much pain, and then notice the discarded broken bottle. My own blood drips over the label, and I stare until he comes back with the red, hot iron in his grasp again.
He turns the table upright again and sits, nodding at Elias until the girl gets put back on it. His gaze angles over his shoulder at me as the girl starts up with her screaming again. “We gonna have that discussion again? Only I’ve got a job to do right now, and you’re wasting time. Maybe later, yeah?”
“This is fucking wrong,” I mutter.
He laughs. A full-on fucking laugh that makes me feel like a pansy in their presence. “Yeah, well, life’s a bitch like that, Reed. You wanna talk about it some more or not?” I glance at her, then Elias’s smirking face, and then I do the only correct thing I can to savour my still-breathing body – I leave.
Hell rages through me as I walk back to the small area outside the main cellar. I don’t know whether to go back in there and make more of my attitude felt or leave this whole place so they can burn it to the ground when they’re done.
The next scream that sounds out from the girl does nothing to temper my mood either. My face scrunches up in disgust, and my body vibrates with loathing. Mainly at myself. I’m letting this shit happen. And not only am I letting it happen, I can’t even defend my position against them successfully.
I pace, eyes glancing in that fucking room full of girls and mind wondering if they’ve already done my little elf or if it’s her turn next. Carmen’s not there anymore. Which probably means the little sister was the last one. I don’t know what to do with the feeling that assaults me next. They’ve branded her. They’ve made my elf something she’s not supposed to be – theirs.
Something about that makes me realise that I am done being played like a bitch.
