Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Men stare at me from all over the room, and my legs quiver as I try to stay still.
“Do I hear five hundred thousand?”
The old fucker with the broken nose grins manically as he raises his hand. “Five hundred thousand. Right here.”
Fuck.
Bile rises in my throat, and if it weren’t for my sheer will to get out of here, I would have let it come out.
“Six hundred,” is heard from across the room, and my eyes whip back and forth, trying to keep track of who’s bidding what.
“Seven.”
“I’ll take the bitch for eight,” broken-nose guy rumbles, his dark gaze shifting back to mine once again. A fucked-up smirk crosses his bloodied face, silently telling me that he’ll take this right to the end just so he can be the one to have the pleasure of ending me.
My stomach sinks with each new bid, and I watch with wide eyes, taking in the slew of twisted men who fix their sick gazes upon my body. I wonder just how much fucking me into submission is worth to them.
“Nine hundred.”
“A million,” Broken Nose throws back, the confidence in his tone making me want to tear his testicles out through his throat and strangle him with them.
“A million, one.”
“A million, two.”
Each new bid tastes like poison on my tongue, and I watch broken-nose guy closely as hesitation begins creeping into his stare. He’s almost at his limit, and that’s proved only a moment later when he raises his hand again. “A million, two fifty.”
The auctioneer shakes his head. “No half bids, Sir. Can you give me a million, three?”
“A million, two fifty,” Broken Nose argues.
“You know the rules of my auction. I’ll accept a million, three. Otherwise, bow out and make room for the real bidders.”
Broken Nose clenches his jaw and glances back at me. Just to rub salt in the wound, I raise my hand to the base of my throat, drawing my thumb across it and signaling just how quickly I’ll end him if he were to win. He narrows his gaze, then raises his hand. “A million, three.”
The auctioneer nods. “Welcome back to the party,” he says before looking around at the crowd. “Do I hear a million, four?”
“Right here,” a new bidder says, raising his hand and making Broken Nose’s eyes widen in outrage, his face turning red with rage.
The numbers continue rising, and I turn in my cage, gripping the bars and resting my head against it, no longer caring who wins. It’s all the same. Whether I go to Broken Nose or some other asshole, they’re all going to treat me the same. I’ll be a prize. Something to destroy. Property to be used.
A shadow falls beside my cage, and I lift my head from the bars to find the intense, strange man I’d seen earlier staring right back at me. His gaze narrows on mine, and I’m struck by just how dark his eyes really are. It’s like staring into two deep pits of hell that beckon me in. There’s no doubt in my mind, this man is the devil.
His gaze falls away, and I let out a shaky breath, my hands still trembling against the bars. It’s as though his stare alone is enough to hold me captive. This man is worse than I could have thought. Seeing him up close like this rattles me to the bone.
He takes just a single step past my cage, and I watch as the men around him hesitantly shuffle away, their sharp gazes quickly morphing into unease. The man raises his head and looks straight at the auctioneer. “This one is mine,” he says in a deep, thick, Romanian accent.
The auctioneer fumbles, his eyes widening as everyone whips around to take in this strange, terrifying man. I watch as the auctioneer glances toward the piece of shit running this show, visibly shaken by the newcomer’s presence. The man who snatched me off the street and put this whole thing together glances down toward my cage, looking over me before turning his sharp stare on this Romanian nightmare.
“We can negotiate in private,” he says. I realize that every last person in this fucked-up underground warehouse knows exactly who this man is. And the fact that he’s shown an interest in me is some kind of big deal—I just wish I knew why.
“No,” the terrifying man says, that thick accent waking something lost deep within me. “I said she is mine. I will take her now.”
My back slams against the bars, and I realize I’ve been backing up to put distance between me and my new owner. While nothing has been formally agreed, I know without a doubt this man will get what he wants.
“O . . . okay,” the piece of shit trafficker says, watching as the Romanian narrows his eyes, the sight making my knees shake. “Yours. She’s yours.”