11
Violet
A masculine scent of smoke, leather, and something spicy lingers in my nose. Bright lights burn my eyes for a second, my body heavier than lead. The collar around my neck feels as if it’s made of concrete, the skin beneath it tender. My eyelids flicker, adjusting to my surroundings. The first thing that hits me is the eerie quiet. There’s no music in the background, no bullets pinging off the walls. No one yelling orders.
Somewhere in the fogginess of my mind, I hear a voice. Strong and masculine... concerned. I can’t make out the words, but the rhythm is soothing. Not unlike the memory of a broad chest and big arms holding me against a warm body.
My eyes pop wide, the dreamlike state snapping away like a dry twig. Along with the dreaminess disappears my calmness.
Fear grips me by the sore throat, swallowing me whole when I glance around and don’t recognize the room. It’s an enormous living room, modern, decorated with attention to the smallest detail. I’ve passed through similar rooms before, while the man who’d bought me led me to his rape room.
My insides knot then somersault back and forth as I jerk upwards, my head swinging left and right.
“She’s awake,” a male voice sounds behind me.
I jump up from the plush couch, spinning around and backing away as fast as my weak legs allow.
Getting electrocuted is a bitch. I can still feel the stiff, yet somehow jelly-like feeling in my limbs, but right now, adrenaline propels me forward. It’s not just one man in the room.
There are three . All dark-eyed, immaculately dressed, broad, and lethal.
I know the type...
My pulse skyrockets, thumping in my ears, the walls start closing in, and I almost trip over a piece of furniture. One of the men steps forward, hands raised, eyes boring into mine. I instinctively duck as if he’s about to smack me, even though there’s at least thirty feet between us.
“Calm down, you’re okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” he says, taking another step and gaining more ground.
“Stop,” a female voice calls out.
The gallop of my heart hiccups and my head whips toward the girl entering the room. “Give her some space.”
Relief doesn’t come close to describing the feeling that washes over me when I finally spot a familiar face. Hailey’s. Tears well in my eyes and my legs give in as I fold onto the floor ass first.
She approaches with a kind smile, her footsteps soft against the polished floor, and kneels beside me, her expression gentle but tinged with concern. “Hey,” she says, her voice calm and soothing. “You’re safe here. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“I remember you,” I whisper, my heartrate climbing down. “From Blaze’s mansion.”
Hailey nods, her smile growing warmer. “That’s right.” She glances at the men who’ve flocked closer, a silent command passing between them.
They step back, giving us more space.
I swallow the lump in my throat, calming down further. “Why am I here?”
“I saw you in Scarlett last week with that man and I... I couldn’t just leave you. I can explain better later; we have time. You’ve been through a lot, so how about I get you something to drink? Water, maybe?”
I nod, still on edge, but the absence of immediate danger helps me breathe easier. Hailey gestures to the couch, inviting me to sit, then stalks across the room toward a sleek, modern bar.
“This is Carter,” Hailey tells me, pointing her long finger at the man I know to be hers. “That’s Ryder, and this one is—”
“Koby,” I finish for her, taking in the familiar man. He was at the auction with that other man.
He had an unusual nickname... Blaze said it when he told him to take his property. What was it?
Broadway.
Yes, Broadway.
“Um... thank you for helping me.”
Koby’s smile takes almost the entire width of his face. “Don’t mention it.”