Page 75 of Tower

“For your inconvenience, the women at the Annex are waiting to see to your needs tonight. Free of charge,” the man to Peter’s right said. He was large, not as menacing looking as Peter, but slightly taller.

“Too many rules at the Annex,” one man groused.

“Then go elsewhere, but this auction is finished, and there will be no more held here. Gothel is closing,” the man stated.

Peter’s gun and eyes were still focused on the man on stage. Azalea needed him to look at her. She needed reassurance.

Bellatrix stepped on stage, leaving her position in the audience, shoving the old man out of the way. He stumbled then ran off, headed to the exit.

“I don’t need all this fucking drama.” He waved a hand in the air.

The men filed out, not giving Bellatrix or Azalea another glance. Peter still hadn’t looked at her, his focus now aimed at Bellatrix.

“Get the fuck away from her,” Peter demanded moving closer.

“No,” Bellatrix yelled, standing behind Azalea, using her as a shield. “She’s mine.”

“She was never yours.” The third man, the one with the short-cropped hair, moved forward, past Peter. His gun was trained on the stage.

“Oh dear.” Bellatrix laughed. “Is that you, Damien?”

Who the hell was Damien?

“Look at you, all grown up. You look so much like your father with that angry expression, but still you have that witch’s hair coloring, don’t you?”

“Get away from Azalea.” Damien came closer to the stage.

“I have my due. I’m owed,” Bellatrix screeched, putting a knife to Azalea’s neck.

“If you release her now, I’ll let you live,” Peter stated calmly, standing near Damien.

Azalea whimpered, feeling the sharp edge of the blade against her neck. Twisting away was impossible with the binds.

“Won’t kill me?” Bellatrix laughed again, a high-pitched sound that sent a shiver down Azalea’s body. “I’ve had enough of your meddling. I’ve had to compete with your family for too long. And now you think to take Azalea from me? Why? So you can sell her in that Annex of yours?”

“I’m not for sale.” Azalea found her voice. It wasn’t as loud and commanding as the men’s, but she’d been able to force the words out.

“Oh? Why? You think this man loves you? You fool! Men don’t love women, they use them.”

“Let me go, or he will kill you.” Azalea looked at Peter, focused on him even while he seemed so far away from her. Why wouldn’t he look at her?

“Bellatrix, there’s no way out of here,” the third man spoke up, walking through the empty chairs. His gun was no longer drawn, and, in fact, he looked downright bored. “Your men have been taken care of, and the women you have locked up below now belong to Mr. Jansen.”

“Hunter? Why would your uncle take my stock?”

“Because he’s annoyed by you, you crazy old woman,” Peter shot at her.

“You think to take Azalea home? Make her your wife? And you’ll live happily ever after?” Bellatrix pushed the knife against Azalea; the bite of the edge made her wince. Peter’s eyes flicked to hers for a brief moment then left her again. “So you can then toss her aside for one of the pretty whores in your stock?”

Damien moved again, stepping closer, but stilled when Azalea whimpered. The knife dug deeper, and a trickle of warm blood ran down her neck.

“Just release me. That’s all you have to do,” Azalea spoke again. The knife moved, more blood ran, and she clenched her teeth together.

“I don’t want to hear your voice,” Bellatrix ground out in her ear. She moved to her other side, still holding the knife and producing a gun.

“No!” Azalea bucked, trying to throw Bellatrix off-balance. The knife sliced across her throat, and Bellatrix stumbled.

She aimed her gun. A shot fired then another. Azalea heard a cry. Was it hers? How deep had her neck been sliced? So much blood seemed to be running down her chest. Her naked chest. So cold. The room was so damn cold.

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