Page 40 of Hawk

“Deviant,” I said into my comm. “You seeing this?”

Nothing. Just static.

“We’re on our own,” Maverick said grimly, tapping his earpiece. “Comms are jammed.”

Taking a step closer to the nearest door, I tried the handle, but it was locked. They all were.

Wrecker swore under his breath as we followed the curve. “There’s something in the middle that these all open up to. Has to be.”

I didn’t say anything. I just kept moving, tugging every handle until one of them finally gave way.

Glancing over at Wrecker, I jerked my head toward the door, and he nodded.

Maverick and I stepped back and waited, guns at the ready. Wrecker yanked the door open, and I went in first, silent and alert.

The room was dark, with walls lined with leather panels. In the center was a man in a navy suit, lounging in a plush leather recliner like he owned the world. A low table beside him held a crystal glass, half full. A remote rested in his hand.

On the far wall, I saw what looked like a viewing window, but it was opaque and flickered to life as the man pressed the button on the remote. It lit up with images—bodies. Screen after screen of nude or barely covered females. All with blurred faces and watermarked with serial codes and timestamps.

Son of a bitch.

It was a fucking catalog. Women indexed like objects.

I cursed, and the man turned, startled, as if annoyed by the intrusion. When he saw us, his eyes flickered to the far corner, and a shadow peeled out of it. A bodyguard in black, big and fast.

But I moved faster.

Two steps forward, pivot, elbow to the throat, twist the wrist, disarm. I caught the knife midair, reversed it, and buried the blade in the guy’s shoulder. A twist, a grunt, and the guard dropped.

The man in the suit scrambled to his feet, hands shaking, and backed against the wall.

“Please,” he gasped. “I didn’t?—”

He lunged for a switch. A panic button.

I didn’t hesitate. One bullet. Clean. Right between the eyes.

The screen flickered, then went dark.

Something icy spread through my veins. A sense of foreboding.

Then a speaker crackled above our heads. “Tonight’s auction will begin in sixty seconds. Digital transactions will resume after the live segment concludes. Please place your bids promptly. Our merchandise moves fast.”

My stomach clenched.

A room lit up on the other side of the window. A quick glance around showed that the walls were all lined with one-way glass.

The room went dark again for half a minute, then a spotlight shined down in the very center of the room. A woman stood under it, naked but for a G-string and a lace bra. She slumped on trembling legs in five-inch heels. Her eyes were wide with fear but unfocused. Sedated.

“What the fuck,” Wrecker breathed.

A disembodied voice began to chant numbers. “Ten thousand.” A bell chimed. “Twelve.” Another ring. “Fourteen. Do I hear sixteen?”

With each ding of the bell, the number rose. A new bid.

I couldn’t breathe.

It was a fucking auction.

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