Page 30 of Vicious Savage

Scarface asking me to go along with my father’s plan put me right back in that place where I lost control of my own destiny. He wanted me to play along and get auctioned off to the highest bidder. Did he, or any man for that matter, understand the sacrifice in undertaking such a collaboration? Did they understand the premise of reaching in and pulling someone’s heart out of its place? Because that’s what it felt like.

I knew I’d have no trouble fetching a pretty penny at the auction, and perhaps that’s what had swayed my father’s ambitions for me. Why sell me to one when he could sell me to plenty and get the highest possible price? He is evil incarnate — planning to pimp me to a room full of men who had nothing but money to play with. The thought turned my stomach — I don’t know why Scarface feels it’s so important for me to play along. Unless he possibly had something to gain by the sale? I can’t delude myself into thinking that an absolute stranger would decide to help me in any way. What would he have to gain by doing that?

31

ATTILA

We’re half way through going over our plan when Cesar gets a phone call. He’s gone from The Jekyll to TJ, and now he’s Cesar. I insist on calling him by his real name, and somehow, this one act has strengthened our bond.

“It’s my contact,” he says, walking a short distance away. Dante and I look across the table at one another, then watch as Cesar paces back and forth while he takes the call. He listens carefully, looking back at us only once before finishing the call and coming back toward us.

“A development?” Dante asks, his eyebrows rising.

“We may have a problem.”

We wait quietly as Cesar considers his words before spitting them out. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.

“Coyin Castillo is throwing a party.”

We both look at Cesar like he’s lost his mind, even though the news didn’t originate from him.

“What kind of a party?” Dante asks, and I note the caution in his voice.

“An auction. And the way I hear it, he’ll be auctioning the girl off.”

* * *

Two things happento me all at once. My body starts to hum with an involuntary vibration, and a red hot fireball of anger surges through me until I literally can’t see in front of me. This has only ever happened to me once before, and although I recognize what it is, there’s no way I can warn the others what’s about to happen.

I throw my head back and roar, my bellow invading the air all around us. My hands grasp the desk in front of me, and I’ve overturned it even before anyone can make a move toward me. The desk and all its contents go crashing to the ground. I kick the chair that stood behind the desk, and it scuttles and goes crashing into the wall with a heavy thud, leaving its mark with a gaping hole.

I don’t see anything in front of me. There is movement around the room, and the echo of voices, but I’m otherwise blind as a raging fury obliterates my view. I cross the room, my hands landing on the bookshelf; I don’t even notice what’s on the shelves. But with a swipe of my hands, I’ve emptied the shelves and the books go crashing to the ground in a heap at my feet.

Strong arms grab mine, bending them backwards as I’m held back, and I feel the pinch of handcuffs as they close around my wrists, binding me with metal. I continue to gnash, my body lashing out at everything and anything it connects with. I scream again, my voice a deafening pierce that shrouds the night in its unforgiving pain.

“Attila. Attila!”

Dante’s voice starts to take shape in my ears as his image materializes in front of me. Cesar is holding me back, restraining me from doing any further damage. A calming balm washes over me as Dante continues to say my name, accepting my insolence without actually understanding it.

* * *

When I’m finallycalm enough to see straight, Dante comes into view. He’s sitting in front of me, leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped between his outstretched legs. He watches me like a hawk, curious but without judgment.

“Don’t make me call Caleph,” he warns. Which is just the thing he needs to say to me, because neither of us wants to ruin Caleph’s honeymoon. I know that Dante needs an explanation, but he doesn’t probe. Instead, he watches me, waiting for me to give him something. I notice that Cesar is not in the room — it’s just Dante and me, and the room is trashed beyond acceptable.

“This happened to me once before,” I tell him, trying to explain. It’s not something I can control; like a phenomenon that appears then just as quickly disappears.”

“That time when Caleph got shot,” he says, and I don’t know if he guesses or if he’s aware. He answers my curiosity. “I heard about it.”

“I can’t control it.”

“You can,” Dante says, and I hate that he feels like he needs to give me a counselling session, a pep talk.

“It comes on so suddenly, it consumes me.”

“The girl is obviously your trigger,” Dante says, sitting back in his chair. “What happened between you two?”

“It doesn’t matter. It meant nothing.”

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