Page 62 of The Celtic Resolution
Saoirse will be mine.
“Can you really afford her?” Domenico asks as the amount reaches eye-watering amounts.”
“There’s no price on revenge,” I say, throwing my hand up once more.
“Sold!” bellows the auctioneer. “For eighty million dollars to number seventeen! Come, sir. Collect your prize!”
27
SAOIRSE
Ihate him.
Why would they let him purchase me? Surely anyone with a brain can tell there’s no way I’ll go quietly. Ripping Bruno’s throat out as my last act in this God forsaken place sounds like a good way to go. Revenge is all I have left.
Our locked gaze lingers for just a few seconds while I pour every ounce of my hatred through my eyes, hoping he understands just how deeply I loathe every single thing about him. Then hands grip my upper arms and I’m swiftly dragged off the stage.
The rage at Bruno cuts through the drug haze like a hot blade so I cling to it just to maintain some clarity. It doesn’t matter why he bought me, or even what he plans to do to me. I’m going to kill him the first chance I get. I’m going to wrap my hands around his fucking throat and strangle him until his dying breath slips past those lips I used to love kissing so much.
Focusing on that rage warms me through the sudden blast of cold water from a hose pipe as the guards wash me down and tear at my clothes. I don’t care that they’re making me naked.Shame doesn’t matter now. All that matters is keeping my mind clear until I’m close enough to Bruno.
If I’m to die here, I’m taking him with me.
“Here.” After the hose clunks off, one of the guards throws a rough towel into my arms. It’s seen much better days and hardly has any structure to do anything but move the water droplets around my body.
“What—” My throat closes and burns, forcing me to cough. My attempt to speak earns me a slap so hard my ears are left ringing so I clutch the towel to my naked chest.
“Dry yourself,” the guard barks. “Then put this on.”
The fabric he tosses toward me barely looks like clothing. It’s more string floss.
“Maybe you hit her too hard,” scoffs the second guard. “She doesn’t know what it is.”
“Here, bitch!” The first man drives his fingers into my bruised cheeks when he snatches my jaw and forces my head up. “Dry yourself off and get dressed,” he says slowly and loudly. “Or I’ll dress you and I won’t be gentle. Understand?”
In any other situation, I would kill him.
But I’m defeated. My body is broken, my mind is struggling to remain together and rescue is a distant thought. All I have is Bruno.
I nod the best I can in his grip and once he’s satisfied, he lets me go. Standing in the puddle of cold water, I drag the towel over my body and grimace. It’s the first time seeing all of myself in light since I arrived here. There are bruises everywhere, lacerations where my skin split under the force of blows and punches, grazes where I fought back before I learned how pointless it was, and a few blood blisters around my ankle.
All of it pales to the bruise across my abdomen that I wash tenderly.
Is my baby okay?
I hope it’s not. I hope it’s met the same fate as Cian because there’s no way in hell I’m giving birth in a place like this.
I can’t stomach the thought of what they would do to that baby.
Once dry, I have to untangle the strange fabric I was given. It’s a cluster of thin, sheer fabric that appears to have no shape until I spread it all out and it finally takes form.
Lingerie.
It’s a sheer body suit that’s clearly meant to wrap around my body like ribbon, and make me look beautiful. Instead, I look more like the rejected topper from a cake by the time I work out how to put the damn thing on. The thin fabric that barely covers my nipples is nothing compared to the thin strip between my legs that immediately rides up my ass when I slide the shoulder straps on.
Whatever.
My dignity is left back in that old cell.
