Page 26 of Stone

They’re no longer allies. They’re enemies, and the thought is terrifying.

“Just a little fun, Azrael. Don’t be so accusing.” Our father laughs awkwardly, then slaps Azrael on the back as if trying to dispel the tension building between his son and right-hand man. “Besides, a tight ass is a tight ass, right? What’s it matter who it belongs to?” He chuckles to himself.

His words play on repeat in my mind as we make our way toward the viewing room, each step heavier with dread because worse than seeing the instruments used to brand, tarnish, and degrade innocent victims, is seeing the terror etched on their horror-stricken faces.

“Sirs, your table is reserved.” The soft voice of a collared girl pulls my gaze. Her eyes are trained on the floor, and I’m grateful for it. The last thing I need is to see the pleading in her eyes, especially after they no doubt mirror mine.

We all take our place, and I scan the table as our usual drinks are brought to us. Our father studies the faces of the auctioned victims displayed on the tablet with limited information about their previous lives. Age, sex, characteristics and features, and I turn my head away when he begins his selection process.

Azrael stretches out his legs, looking as relaxed as ever, and I wonder what part my brother plays in these twisted games. How deep does his evil run?

I know he likes submissives, and I can only imagine how brutal he is with them. There’s no way the savagery ingrained in his veins doesn’t spill over into his sex life.

Vector stares at him, a calculated look on his face that sends my blood cold.

I’m not sure what Azrael was thinking. I’ve never known him to refute Vector, and the thought of him being in harm’s way because of me sends a guilty tremor through me and the familiar pain lancing through my temple.

As if sensing my discomfort, Azrael glances my way, then toward Vector. Then a smirk plays on Azrael’s lips, and he takes a casual swig of his brandy. “Show’s about to start. Oh, and look, males are up first.” He points toward the stage and grins into his glass. The accusation is clear, and I can feel the fury vibrating off Vector like a hurricane gathering momentum.

I don’t know what game my brother is playing, but it’s a deadly one.

Blowing out a deep breath, I down my drink and try to relax back into the winged-back chair.

The sooner this night is over with, the better. Too many memories are held here, and not a single one of them is good.

As the commentator announces the first tortured soul to the stage, I zone out and become lost in thoughts of Sienna. My fingertip finds the path of proof of life on my palm instead of dwelling on the evil surrounding me.

Chapter Fourteen

Stone

I’m not surprised to find the light to the gym on. I use the spare set of keys Elijah gifted me to open the door, but I know I’ll find him here.

The scent of sweat belonging to willing fighters fills my nostrils, and a sense of comfort wraps around me. This is my safe place. Besides with Sienna, this is the only place I feel comfort, and it’s as if Elijah knows I need it tonight. He’s pulling on his training gloves when his crinkled eyes meet mine with mirth. “You’re here earlier than I expected.”

Smirking in his direction, I raise an eyebrow and throw off my suit jacket. Then I toe off the expensive loafers they insist on me wearing, followed by the Italian socks that make my skin itch with discomfort at the luxury. I roll my shoulders to ease the tension. “Some would say it’s late. Should be past your bedtime, old man.” I mock.

He wafts a hand toward me. “Meh. Sleeping is for when we’re dead. Right?”

A loud chuckle is pulled from my lungs, dispelling the sinister dealings hanging over me only moments ago. I unbutton the collar of my shirt, allowing me to breathe once again. Without warning, I lunge forward with a swift punch to his glove, forcing him to stumble back.

“Rough night?”

I bounce on the balls of my feet. “You’ve no idea.”

Another blow causes him to fall back into the ropes before he rights himself.

“You wanna talk about it?” he questions, no doubt already knowing my answer.

“Not tonight.” It’s the same response I always give, and I hate the way his shoulders slump. The last thing I want is for Elijah to be disappointed in me, but what’s the alternative? To give him every sordid and twisted detail of my past and present? All that would ever do is put him in danger, and I refuse to take that chance.

He’s a good man who saw the harrowing despair of a kid needing strength, and he delivered it tenfold. Knowing he’s here is enough for me.

“Sometimes we have to let out the darkness trapped inside. That way, we let in the light. I’m ready when you are.” His soft eyes meet mine, and I wonder if he means he’s ready for another one of my heavy blows or for something more from me.

But Elijah should know better than to expect more from a man made of stone.

Not from me.

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