Page 238 of Bad for Me

CHAINED

ADARA WOLF & R. PHOENIX

1

RAUL

“Wow, they went all out,”Angelo says, glancing around the crowded room. “And I don’t even recognize half the people here.”

I snort, because I wouldn’t have expected Angelo to know most of the people here at this private auction. It isn’t his usual crowd of made men or gun dealers.

No, this auction is more in line with my own family’s business.

“I hope you aren’t looking to get to know them,” I say, though. “Daddy Dearest would have a couple of cows if he thought your boss wanted to get his hands into all of this.”

It’s a grim business, trafficking people, and it takes a special kind of fucked up to deal with these auctions without blinking.

I’ve been helping oversee them since I was around sixteen. “Nah. We only just negotiated a truce with Pavone in New Bristol. I doubt he’d appreciate us stealing his business,” Angelo says. “I’m just here to hang with you.”

It’s strange to think of Angelo Guerra as a friend, although I don’t know what else to call him. He works for Victor Corvi, one of my father’s tentative allies and head of the Rosa di Sangue. My family’s outfit is smaller, and while we’re very aware that we continue to exist by grace of our alliance with Corvi, that doesn’t mean we’re interested in having our clients poached.

But Angelo and I, we’ve known each other for years, back when his brother still ran the Rosa di Sangue and the two of us were a little angrier with the world.

“You ever tempted to get one for yourself?” Angelo asks when the first product gets brought on stage.

She’s a small woman, with short brown hair and a pretty face. She’s also completely naked, crying profusely as the bruisers drag her onto the stage via the chain attached to the collar around her neck.

My lip curls into a grimace, and I shake my head. “Not really. You know I’m not into… Well.” Women. He knows I’m not intowomen, even though that’s something I’m not open about. Things have improved in the past few years with Corvi’s second-in-command being both openly bisexual and an excellent shot to boot.

Even if I were into women, I wouldn’t be intogirls, and the men we sell are barely old enough to have dropped balls.

“Anyway, I wouldn’t have time for someone of my own,” I say.

I have a bidding paddle in my hand anyway.

Just in case.

“Guess you can just have fun tormenting the product, then,” Angelo says. He laughs to himself. “Shit, I’m such an asshole. These arepeople, Raul. How dare we.”

His words elicit another snort from me. “I know, right?”

Several paddles go up and down around the room, with a few higher bids shouted to increase the total price. Only once a suitably high number is offered, the woman is declared ‘sold’ and taken off stage.

The nextproductis brought onto the stage.

I should care as they’re whisked away as quickly as they’re purchased, as they get ready to be served on a platter to the most vile denizens of Benton City and our biggest neighboring city, New Bristol.

Maybe if I hadn’t grown up with the knowledge that the family servants weren’t allowed to saynoto any of our orders, that this was simply our source of income, I might’ve felt differently. I might’ve been horrified when yet another person was sold into the underground.

Instead, I’m a little…bored.

It’s not something I’m comfortable with, those nights when the ghosts of past sales haunt me — mostly of children who’d looked at me with bewildered, terrified, or accusing eyes that had pleaded for help I hadn’t given.

I shake those thoughts off, watching the suitablyadultmerchandise be auctioned off one at a time.

“Haveyouever thought about picking up one of your own?” I ask Angelo. “Or would that she-devil your boss is shacked up with castrate you for it? Then again, she doesn’t seem to have many morals of her own.”

Some people mistakenly believe women are softer toward slaves, that they’re more likely to let them go.

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