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The guards can’t hurt us, but they can stop us from leaving. And right now, he is the only guard on duty. Which is as good as making him God.
I look over my shoulder to see which guard he is. I want to be sure and steer clear of him as much as possible in the days ahead.
As soon as I look back, however, the guard’s attention snaps to me.
He has a thick black mustache and matching salt-and-pepper hair. If I had passed him on the street, I would have taken him for a small-town sheriff or a butcher. He looks like a friendly neighborhood man you’d share pleasantries with on your morning commute, not a guard for a criminal Cartel.
I turn to face forward again, but it is too late. His footsteps echo through the room, matching the pounding of my heart.
“Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” he yells into my ear.
His words vibrate against my eardrum painfully, but I don’t flinch. I shake my head.
“I can’t hear you!” he screams, making it so I’m afraid I won’t be able to hear anything ever again.
“No,” I say, adding a hasty “sir” at the end.
“Then I’d suggest you mind your own fucking business.”
He is standing close to me. Close enough I can feel his hot breath on my face. And I know he is trying to intimidate me.
But I’ve faced worse than this mustachioed guard. My father, namely.
It is obvious by the way he wields his weapon that his gun is simply an extension of his cock. He craves control and his gun helps him get it. Even when it comes to terrified, defenseless women, he has to wave it around and throw his power in their face. He probably has to threaten to murder us so he can get it up later when he is alone.
In a lot of ways, he reminds me of Cole Morrison.
I want to tell him all of this, but I trust him to carry out his threat of shooting anyone who disobeys him, so I just stare forward, eyes boring into the blonde head of the woman in front of me.
Even while I’m pretending to be effectively cowed, the man hovers over me for a second, ensuring he gets his point across. Then, he continues pacing up and down the line.
Several minutes later, the other guard comes back and we are led through a dim hallway. One by one, we are assigned individual rooms. The guards come along the line and push each of us into a doorway.
We all learn as soon as the first woman falls that we should stay on our feet. She receives a swift kick in the stomach for her lack of balance.
When I’m shoved to the right, I stumble through an already open door and into a small gray room.
The walls are dingy and the ceiling is water-stained. Everything smells faintly musty, and I can tell from across the room that the mattress is lumpy. This must have once been servants’ quarters for the inn. No guest in their right mind would have paid to sleep here.
I’m so disgusted by the room around me that it takes me a moment to notice the woman standing quietly in the corner. When I do see her, I jolt in surprise.
“I didn’t know anyone else was in here.”
The woman nods her head in silent apology. She looks to be about my age with pale blonde hair that is almost white. It hangs around her face in thin sheets, emphasizing the harsh lines of her cheekbones.
“I’m here to assist you in preparing for the auction,” she says, voice barely above a whisper.
I raise an eyebrow. “Nothing I’ve experienced so far has led me to expect my own personal maid.”
Her mouth pinches together, and I think I see it lift at the corners, but before I can really get a good look, she turns to a narrow door set into the back corner. She pushes open the door to reveal an equally dingy bathroom.
“I’ve run a bath for you to wash,” she says. “There are razors for you to shave yourself. I’m supposed to tell you that any attempt to use the razor for any purpose other than shaving will result in punishment worse than death.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
It does seem dangerous for the Cartel to offer women in this position a weapon. Not only could it be used on them, but it could be used on themselves, which would no doubt ruin the auction.
However, there is no risk of me hurting myself. As much as I don’t want to be bid on and purchased, I can’t give up hope that I’ll see Milaya and Luka again.
