Page 24 of Wrathful King
Rows of men waited, eager to witness our degradation and humiliation. Eager to procure something that was never meant to be theirs.
The next few minutes were the worst of my life. All the captive women were paraded like animals. Some sported whip marks, others bruises. But each of us had had our spirits destroyed, our souls crushed, in one way or another. We were about to be trapped in a cycle of hell where the only merciful way out was death.
I watched in horror as women were auctioned off, one by one, until there were only two of us left. The guard took Liana by the arm, dragging her to the front of the stage, but I held on to her so tightly, I almost yanked her shoulder out of socket.
She winced.
Releasing her hand, I muttered, “Sorry,” then watched as she stumbled forward.
Her face was white as a ghost and her shoulders were stiff, but still she put on her brave face, glaring at our “audience.” Men leered at her. Women shouted vile words in Portuguese I didn’t understand. Someone threw an egg, but she was quick to duck, so it landed on a guard behind her instead. Despite this fucked-up situation, the corner of my lips tugged up slightly.
The bidding started. I watched wide-eyed as the numbers were called out. One hundred thousand. Two.Three. The bids grew higher and higher.
“Two million to the man in the back!”
Gasps traveled through the yard and everyone’s eyes searched for the buyer. A man towered over most of the crowd. Dark hair. Aviator glasses that hid most of his face. Tattoos. Jesus, he had a lot of tattoos.
Before I could blink, Liana was being ushered off the stage. She looked over her shoulder, her panicked eyes meeting mine.
“It’s going to be okay,” I mouthed, even though I didn’t believe it. I was beginning to think this was our end.
Before I could dwell on that fact, I caught an object flying through the air in my periphery. I ducked on instinct, avoiding what looked like a liquor bottle coming straight for me. I jumped and cried out in pain as it shattered and shards of thick glass tore into my ankle and the soles of my feet.
Then the tip of a gun pressed against my back and butted me forward.
My turn.
My breaths turned shallow. I looked over in time to see Liana’s buyer lift her effortlessly and throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.No…
“And our last prize…”
My eyes darted to the audience. I wrapped my hands around my waist to keep from doubling over just as I locked on menacing eyes. His chilly smile turned my insides to ice.
I knew—without a shred of doubt—he would be the highest bidder.
“Our king, Perez Cortes, has offered ten million dollars. The illegitimate daughter of famed Hollywood actress Grace Bergman… Reina Romero.” Growls. Gasps. Total silence. Then a booming, sadistic laugh. The kind that raised every hair on my body in alert. “It’s been a long time coming. Perez has had his sights on her for the better part of the past few years, so the price was set by vote and he was given the first buy option in the auction.”
Those words crushed any hope of escape. Instinctively, I knew escaping Perez Cortes would be an impossible mission. Not unless I channeled my inner Houdini and escaped the coffin I was destined for.
This was all just a show. The man with eyes that promised horrors already owned me. After all, he was the orchestrator of this auction and this was his game.
A guard gave me another rough shove that had me staggering on weak legs. When I glanced up, I was met with those same eyes, and they promised nothing but retribution. For what, I didn’t know.
One thing I knew for sure though. The aches in my body, the withdrawal from that disgusting poison, it was all nothing compared to what this man was about to put me through.
But he had another thing coming if he thought I’d go down without a fight.
10
AMON
The platinum chain with the kanji pendants crumpled in the palm of my hand. The memory of her scent—cinnamon and sunshine—was the only thing keeping me going. My strength had been slowly returning, but I still wasn’t back to my old self.
My recovery was proving to be extremely slow, but I knew if I wasn’t careful, I’d be set back even more, and that wasn’t something I could afford.
The colors over the horizon were changing rapidly. The reds shifted to golden and pink hues. The bifold doors were wide open, the terrace and living room filled with allies—Kian and Darius; Illias Konstantin and his right-hand man, Boris; Enrico Marchetti and his right-hand man, Manuel; the Callahan twins—Tyran and Kyran; Romero and Cesar; and of course, my brother.
“Where’s Ghost?” Marchetti asked, his gaze sharp. “He’s usually up for this kind of stuff.”
