17. Cian
Cian
“ Y ou’re pathetic.” Her voice taunts me. “One sweet word, one gentle touch, and you fell right into my hands. Did you really think I could love you over him? Your brother is everything. You’re nothing. He should have consumed you in the womb.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I want to, Cian. You’re so big and strong.
Having you at my mercy, having this kind of power over you, is delicious.
Addicting. It gets me hot. I can’t wait to fuck your brother in front of you.
But we can’t have you getting too excited watching us, I don’t want you to enjoy it, so…
” She grabs my testicles, squeezing and twisting.
I scream in pain.
“Stop!” I jolt upright at my desk, alone, in the dark. I swat the phantom hand away from my crotch. My breath comes in ragged pants. Sweat trickles into my eyes.
The nightmares have returned with a vengeance these past few weeks, ruining my sleep at night. Which is why I’m dozing off at my desk.
The last thing I remember was working on some accounts in the afternoon, now dusk has fallen over the world.
Groggily, I make my way into the bathroom for a quick shower. Since that awful night that I learned Elena— Ravenna’s —secret, I’ve been sleeping on the couch in my home office, only venturing into the bedroom for a fresh set of clothes. Her amber scent still lingers in the room.
This time I skip the clothing and go straight for a shower to chase away my demons, at least temporarily.
Hot, pelting water helps bury my past in the recesses of my mind, which leaves my thoughts open to Ravenna’s text messages from this afternoon.
Did I read them? Yes.
Do they change anything? No.
I’ve been through all of this before—with my ex, Fiona.
She was kind, sexy, and adoring. We were madly in love.
Until I discovered it was all a lie. Until she wasn’t anything like the person she pretended to be for all of those months.
If she could deceive me that thoroughly, then Ravenna can do the same.
She has done the same.
I’d like to think that I’m wiser now, that I can tell when a woman is lying. But obviously I’m not, and I can’t. Ravenna didn’t just lie about an insignificant detail, she lied about her name , her identity. If she’s willing to go that far, what else is she capable of doing?
I’ve been through this before and I can’t do it again. The first time almost killed me. This time I’m sure it would mean my death.
That is why this stops here, before I get in too deep. I never should have taken a wife in the first place. But what’s done is done.
I’ll never let her or any other woman into my life again.
Ravenna and I are legally married for the sake of peace between our people. That won’t change. But I never want to see my wife’s beautiful face again. I can’t stand the thought of being in the same room as her, much less trying to live together.
Fortunately, her father seems to understand. I haven’t demanded recompense for his daughter’s lies and the peace treaty stands strong. She’ll live at home with her family, while I’m free to live my life as I see fit. Free of her.
Far away from conniving women who are too good to be true.
I shut off the shower with more force than necessary. Resting my forehead against the tile wall, I groan.
Too good to be true. Too fucking perfect. That should have been a red flag from the beginning.
It was. I chose to ignore it. I just wish I could stop thinking about her, about us, about how goddamn angry I am.
Once out of the shower, I place my dirty clothes in the hamper and wrap a towel around my waist. A knock sounds on the door. What the fuck is it now?
“Can it wait?” I call out, drying my hair with another towel.
“No.”
Damn Wolfe. He’s so fucking impatient.
I open the door an inch and bark, “What?”
“You’re going to want to see this.” Judging by his tone, I’m not going to want to see it at all. In fact, it’s likely to piss me off—more than I already am.
“What is it?” I step out of the bathroom and fully into my office, where Wolfe points to his laptop sitting on my desk.
I lift a brow, prompting him to explain what’s going on.
“So I’ve been keeping an eye on the various bratvas, just out of curiosity, and this caught my attention.
” He wakes up the laptop’s screen. “One of them is hosting a pop up event, a flesh auction, tonight on neutral ground. I wouldn’t pay much mind normally, except one of the girls is described as a red-haired Italian beauty.
I mean, how many beautiful redheaded Italians have you seen around here?
So, I took a closer look and found the pictures. ”
As he speaks, my fingers curl into fists. Rage vibrates through every muscle in my body.
When he brings up the images of Ravenna in lingerie, shackled to a flimsy bed frame, I see red.
“Apparently, her father took it literally when you told him you didn’t ever want to see her again.” Wolfe shrugs like he’s not entirely sure what to do about the situation.
I pin him with a glare. “ That’s my fucking wife! ”
“She deceived you, Cian. She’s not really your problem any more. Are you sure you care what happens to her?” He eyes me, cool as a fucking cucumber.
“ Motherfuckers! ” With an animalistic roar, I hurriedly get dressed in today’s soiled clothes. “She belongs to me. What about that don’t you fucking understand?”
Wolfe chuckles. Bastard.
“What’s so funny?” I bark at him. “Never mind. I need to know exactly where she is, and?—”
“I already put in the deposit to join the auction. You’re bidder number fourteen. You better get going if you want to make it in time.”
Tossing on my leather jacket, I shake my head. I swear Wolfe knows me better than I know myself. Of course I’m going to get Ravenna out of there. Nothing can stop me.
“Text me the details.” I head out, catching the amused, smug expression on Wolfe’s face. He knew this would be my reaction to someone trying to sell what’s mine. He also seems to know how much she’s gotten under my skin. Damn it.
In the garage, I opt for the fastest car. A motorcycle would be quickest, but I plan on bringing Ravenna home tonight, just not on the back of my Ducati.
Wolfe texts me the location as I zoom out of the driveway.
She’s my wife.
Mine.
No one fucking touches her but me .
My temper has barely cooled by the time I arrive at the pinned location. I want to go in there, guns blazing, and kill every last fucker who saw those photos of my wife online.
But if I’m going to get her safely out of here, I need to be strategic about it. Recklessness won’t do either of us any good right now.
The pop up flesh market is held at an old, abandoned factory on the outskirts of the suburbs.
The rough exterior sits in stark contrast to the expensive vehicles parked out front, there’s everything from Porsches to luxury sedans.
My sports car fits right in with the rest. Which tells me exactly where I stand—no better than the rest of these fuckers.
I’ll do anything to get what I came here for, just like them.
Inside, the venue bursts with life. Upon entering, I’m given a mask to wear that’s the same as everyone else’s. Plain and black. As well as a special device for bidding in the auction as phones are not allowed on the premises.
Servers dressed in glaring white uniforms offer drinks in the dimly lit space. At the far end of the stage, a single spotlight shines down on a rusty metal pole.
I’m not entirely sure what the pole is for until the auction starts. The first drugged up girl is dragged onto the stage, shackled to the pole, and instructed to turn this way and that so we all get a view of the goods.
My teeth clench, but I do my best to blend in with the rest of the audience. Some are here as spectators, but it seems most are bidding. The bidder numbers must have been given out at random because I found out about this party late, and there are certainly more than fourteen of us.
It’s really too bad that I can’t just kill all these fuckers and be done with it. They have no right to my wife.
A sudden pang of guilt hits my chest. If I hadn’t abandoned her, she wouldn’t be here. She wouldn’t be subjected to these strangers’ gazes. Since I doubt she’d go along with this auction on her own, who knows what her father did to her to get her here.
Fuck .
When the next woman is led into the spotlight, blinding fury threatens to overtake me.
My fingers wrap around the railing in front of me, my knuckles white.
My reaction isn’t only because of all these men’s eyes on my wife’s scantily clad body, but because of her broken lip, the swelling around one eye, and the fading bruises on her ribs, arms, and thighs.
Someone is going to die tonight. That’s a guarantee. A promise.
Seeing her again fills me with all kinds of mixed emotions. I’ve had time to think about everything that happened, and on reflection, I may have been in the wrong. I may have judged her too harshly.
Ravenna was trying to tell me the truth in the library before her sister called. I’d warned her enough times about lying to me, and she knew about my past at that point. She had every reason to believe that I’d react badly. But she wanted to confess anyway.
She was willing to put her faith in me, and what did I do? I turned my back on her, shut her out, and apparently delivered her to a monster.
Someone has been mistreating my wife. I won’t let that stand.
I punch my bid into the device and watch the number rise as others bid on what’s mine . I focus, keeping my rage at bay. For now.
There’s no way I’m losing this auction, so I skip the suggested bid and type in one million dollars. Some asshole raises me to one point one mil.
Let’s play, fucker.
I type in two million.
I’ll spend every last penny of my significant fortune if that's what it takes. There’s no price too high.
The auction house will take their cut, and the remainder will go to Lorenzo Pontrelli. A dead man walking.
Several seconds pass as my bid remains unchallenged.
Then it changes to two point five million, and I curse.
Scanning the room, I try to find the bastard who’s still going up against me so I can drive my fist into his face. When his whereabouts aren’t immediately detectable, I type in three million.
And wait.
Then wait some more.
A countdown timer appears on the device’s screen. Thirty seconds.
Twenty seconds.
The last ten seconds feel like a lifetime.
I hold my breath. If anyone slides in at the last millisecond and outbids me, they’re fucking dead. I’ll hunt them down before they get a chance to touch Ravenna.
Five seconds left.
Four… Three… Two… One.
The screen flashes with a three million dollar bid.
I won.
Immediately, I head for the side door to claim my prize.
I hand my device over to the guard in exchange for Ravenna’s room number. That’s all the information I need before I’m pushing past him and marching along the dim corridor to room number five, where I don’t bother knocking.
I twist the handle and enter with so much force that the door bangs against the wall.
There, chained to a rickety old bed frame, sits my wife. Ravenna. The woman I never wanted to see again. Liar. Seductress.
Mine .
I go to her and drop to my knees, cupping her cheeks. Up close the damage to her face and body are even more pronounced. Her unfocused gaze shows the effects of the drugs coursing through her veins. I deeply inhale, trying to calm my flaring temper.
Someone signed their death warrant when they struck my wife. Was it her father? A guard?
On a growl, I ask, “Who did this to you?”