Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Hevan
The back of my head throbs, pulsating around to the front, and there’s a sting in my neck that has me grimacing.
Slowly, my eyelids flutter open, and what greets me is nothing but haziness.
A dark, blurry room that resembles a basement.
I’m lying on a solid, cold floor, and I do not know how I got here, what I’m doing here, or who put me here.
Nothing about this can be good; it doesn’t take a mastermind to work that out.
A chill sweeps up my spine, and every hair on my body stands on end.
The realization I’m in grave danger hits me square in the chest, taking my breath away. I push onto my knees, and the room spins. “Shit.” Then I exhale, and my gaze latches onto the wall. The contorted blur becomes clearer. Holy shit, is that blood sprayed up the wall?
“Yes. It is,” a soft voice answers beside me, and I realize I spoke aloud. I scurry back on my ass until my back hits the wall, and the full room comes into view, and a new terror dawns on me.
There’s not just one woman here, there’re lots. When all eyes land on me, my skin crawls at the women’s scrutiny. Some eye me with suspicion, some with intrigue, sympathy, and callousness, and others look just as terrified as I am.
Holy shit, what the hell is happening?
A shudder racks through me as a sense of dread looms in my conscience, and I scan over myself to discover my arms are bare and so are my legs. I’m wearing a white dress shirt, and my panties and bra are missing too. I might be covered, but I’ve never felt so exposed.
I’m in trouble.
Big trouble.
The last thing I remember was walking back to my dorm with Stefan, my boyfriend of four months.
Oh, Jesus, he must be so worried.
My chin wobbles. “Where am I?” My throat is scratchy, and I want to ask for a drink but know how ludicrous that is, given my situation.
The woman beside me with the soft voice scoots closer, and I fight the urge to recoil. Her eyes are kind and her features delicate; she doesn’t look like a threat, but glancing around the room, the same cannot be said about some of these women whose hostility oozes from them.
“You’re at the auction house.”
My pulse rushes, and I choke on thin air.
The auction house?
An actual auction?
I glance around the dark room again. It most definitely looks like a basement.
Oh my God, are those shackles? In the room’s corner is what looks to be a cage filled with naked women. Oh Jesus, no.
“Au-auction for what?” I ask, but I already know the answer. It’s an obvious one. One I’m unprepared for, nevertheless.
“For skin,” she whispers back. “Man or woman,” she tacks on. “But we’re the lucky ones,” she says with perkiness in her tone.
My eyebrows shoot up, and a flurry of hope blossoms in my chest.
She’s going to tell me they’ve got this all wrong. That I can’t possibly be a part of an auction and I’m not for sale.
That no man or woman is for sale.
“We’re the willing ones, at least we’re not being auctioned off like those.” She points toward the small group of women huddled in the corner of the room, sobbing; they certainly don’t look willing. “You’ll join us back at the club.” She smiles at me while I gawk back at her, dumbfounded.
“C-club?”
“Yeah, you know, the ones the Carreras own. The strip clubs and fight clubs.”
I blink.
Did she say strip club?
Fight club?
What in the hell is happening?
My temple pulsates, and I glance around the room again.
“They look after you well in the clubs; you just need to please them.”
She giggles, and I search her face for a telltale sign of potential dependency, one I’ve learned to uncover with a well-practiced ease.
Her brown hair is silky and straight, with a gloss to it I wouldn’t expect.
Her hazel eyes shimmer with mirth as she tilts her head from side to side and scans me up and down, her eyebrows knit together, and I wonder if she’s on drugs.
But there’s no dilation in sight, and her skin is flawless, with a healthy glow, not covered in track marks.
She’s pretty and alert, full of inquisitiveness normally absent from a user.
Nope, no signs of drug dependency.
She tilts her head to one side. “You’re not like us, though.” She gestures toward the other women not caged, and I slowly survey the room, taking them in.
They don’t cower; they aren’t naked, and they don’t appear confused. They know exactly where they are and why they’re here, and they don’t seem to be scared by it either.
“I don’t think I’m meant to be here,” I whisper, and my eyes fill with tears.
Is Stefan looking for me? He’ll call the police the moment he realizes I’m missing; I know he will. He has to.
Does he realize yet that I never made it back to the dorm room?
A dull ache surges over my chest, rendering me powerless as my thoughts become more frantic.
My roommate will notice I’ve been out late and haven’t come back, surely.
But we barely speak, she practically hates me. She’d keep it quiet just to take more of my space in the room.
Someone. Anyone will notice by now, my tutors, the librarian. Someone will ask about me, right?
“I don’t think I’m meant to be here,” I say louder this time, my chest heaving as I begin to unravel.
She scans me from top to toe, then shakes her head.
“Shhh, don’t say that.” She shifts closer to me until she’s a hairsbreadth away from my ear.
“They’ll put you up for auction if you’re not willing.
” She gestures with her chin to the women in the cage, and vomit makes its way into my mouth.
“This is the best option for you; trust me.” I pull back and search her eyes for the truth behind her words.
Is this the best option for me? I glance around the room again at the chained women, the fear and tears in their broken eyes, and the reality is: either way, I’m utterly screwed.