Page 38 of Savage Kingdom

The club was big. Bigger than I anticipated for the size of the building. I didn’t know what this room was or why there was a secret space, but it made me cautious. Black and green reflected all around. People were sitting and talking, and weird chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling.

Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I masked my face to not look surprised. The people I thought were just standing and sitting were in different acts of debauchery—women on their knees, blowing men who were having casual conversations, or riding their dicks. The chandeliers were not chandeliers at all, but men and women tied up and suspended in the air. They were naked, thrashing, and turning their gagged mouths —not here willingly. Then I saw them—the cages that were in the corners high up. The color of their dresses was a dead giveaway of what they were here for. It didn’t matter how many times I saw this, it still felt like I was burning alive when I couldn’t do a thing about it. They were all in white to show the status of their purity. Not all were women; some were girls. I bit my lip hard because I wanted to scream.

I wanted to find the men who were responsible for this and kill them all.

“Petal,” Gideon warned behind me, his voice a husky tone. “You need to reel it back in, love, because you look one second away from snapping.”

He was right; I was losing it.

“So, I’m your wife for the night?” I changed the subject.

He led me to the bar.

“For as long as I deem necessary.”

Whatever.

“Barkeep,” he greeted in his cocky tone, all light and making you feel at ease. “Vodka cranberry for the lady, two fingers of Macallan for me.”

“What if I wanted some whiskey too?” I asked, mainly because I didn’t like him ordering for me.

Gideon stood behind me, caging me between the bar and his body. “I’d be happy to give you two fingers, probably three.”

My core clenched, his words made me wet. It was a novelty. I controlled my body, not any man. It was one thing I prided myself on whenever I was sent to fuck. Yoro hated that sometimes I wouldn’t get wet for him. Then he had to truly rape me, and he liked to pretend he was above that.

“Anything else?” the bartender said.

“I want to play with my pet one last time.”

A chill went down my spine at this wording. More than anyone, I knew what you said and how you said it held meaning. From across the bar, there was a mirror that reflected all the horrors that went around us. Gideon’s smile was sinister, truly fitting for this place.

“Down the hall.” He pointed to a far corner. The hallways looked like a vortex; there was no light in sight. “Only go in if you intend to play.”

Showtime.

Gideon pulled something from his pocket and faced me. “Sorry, love, nothing personal.” His voice was low, emotionless.

My veins filled with ice. I should have been expecting this, but a part of me hoped he was different. I should have known mercenaries don’t have hearts.

The collar got snapped on my neck. It fit perfectly, the material red velvet that seemed like a beacon against my pale neck.

“Kneel, Petal,” he ground out.

Swallowing my emotions, I did as he asked. My knees met the cold surface. The floor felt clean against my knees, so that was something.

The next thing I did was get on all fours and followed his lead. With every step, my veins became icy. I felt people’s eyes on me, making me feel uncomfortable. No one was making fun of me; these depraved fuckers wanted me. I had never trusted anyone, but at this moment, my trust was in Gideon, and I hoped like hell just like everyone else he didn’t let me down.

By the time we made it to the entrance of the hallway, my knees ached from crawling. My throat was dry, and it hurt. I was seething. I said my name in my head, and I should be revered like a queen, but I was nothing but a whore. Less than that, I was the Sekt’s pet. I should be feared—that’s why everyone wanted to join because, with them, no one dared cross you. But here I was on my knees like a dog, all because I was sold as a young girl.

We stepped into the hallway. It was hard to see except for a few red dots on the wall. Cameras from whoever was running this place. Then there was a faint red glow. A window appeared to my right, and I realized it was a showroom. It was rather tame compared to what I expected.

They were pulling a train on a woman. It took me a second, but I saw it. The blood. She wore white lace, but now it was slowly turning red. My eyes scanned her face, and she was crying.

My breath hitched. I felt too much sometimes. My babushka said it was my saving grace, and my father said it was my ultimate weakness.

My collar tugged at the sides twice before Gideon pulled it so I would keep crawling. He was telling me to get my shit together again. I wanted to laugh for a second at how ironic this was. My trip to Chicago started in a bar with a man on his knees crawling for me, and here I was again, but now I was the one kneeling.

The next room was different, and it made me want to throw up. It looked beautiful, white accents with butterflies and pastel colors, but inside were kids. They were just fucking children. I wanted to go in there and kill every single man involved. I wanted to carve a blade into their chests, feel as blood the essence of life spilled from their bodies and watch as their souls left back to hell.

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