Chapter Two
Theo
Fuck this.
What in the hell is going on at this chapel out in the middle of nowhere?
I have to try hard to control my breathing as I watch the two figures in front of me enter the building. Though I can only see their silhouettes, it’s obvious that the girl doesn’t want to be here. The sight of that man’s grip on her arm makes me clench my jaw.
I should have forced Damien to come with me. I reread his last message on my burner phone:
I don’t want you to be blindsided. Just so you know, the auction isn’t about goods, but girls.
I bunch my fist against my thigh. It doesn’t sound any less vile than the last time I read it.
I might have to punch someone out before the night is over. There’s no one to restrain me, so I have to get myself under control. I think about the cheering crowds as I enter the fighting ring, the calm and calculated persona I wear like a cloak as I size up my opponent, and the cool-headed Dom who controls the pleasure of his sub.
As I remember who I am, my rage calms and I am once again the cold bastard that many people know me to be. I know I can fit into this world, at least long enough to find the person I came here to find.
Fighting in the underground since I was a teenager has opened my eyes to a lot of shady dealings that I’ve grown used to. Now, at thirty-eight, I don’t see things in black or white, but in different shades of gray, ash, and any color in between.
“Welcome to the chapel,” the guard at the entrance greets in a monotonous voice. “Your ticket please.”
I show him the ticket, then gesture at the entrance. “I have an appointment with Richard Pierce. Is he in there?”
There’s an unmistakable edge in my tone, and the guard visibly straightens. “Not yet,” he answers. “But you can go in for the show while you wait for him.”
“The show,” I drawl frostily, arching a brow. Fuck.
The guard swallows. “Please go in.”
I walk through the small alcove and then follow a corridor to a flight of stairs until finally I’m entering a large hall with a wide, elevated stage. The dimly lit room has plush seating in place, each with a small desk-like compartment attached. I’m not surprised to find the space occupied by other guests, but I don’t bother to exchange pleasantries. Instead, I head to the back and settle into an empty seat in a dark corner, keeping my gaze on the entrance so I’ll know the moment Richard arrives.
Distaste curls inside me at the thought of the old man. He was my father’s friend and business partner when he was alive. They opened a club together and made steady money, paying off the loan they owed the bank.
When we lost my mom to a car accident, Dad was understandably distraught. He couldn’t cope or supervise the club like before. Richard took the opportunity to make deals with major drug dealers in the city.
By the time my father became aware, the club was already well-known for dealing drugs. Dad was so furious that he threatened to alert the cops if Richard didn’t stop dealing. Richard ended up finding a new space for his own club where he continued his shady dealings, taking almost all of their customers with him while he asked my father to pay him back for his share of the bar.
The bar ran down after that, and my father couldn’t pay off his debt. He gave in to his grief and his shame, and he became an alcoholic.
I had just turned eighteen when this all happened, and since I was big for my age, I started attending underground fights with my friends. Aside from the fact that the money was good, I needed a way to channel all my rage and anger.
I got beat up in my first two fights, but I learned and started to use my body to my advantage. Fighting felt good—I could let go of all my pent-up emotions.
I lost my dad a year later. He drank himself to death.
Though I knew it wasn’t completely fair, I wanted to blame Richard for my father’s decision to take solace in alcohol. My father didn’t want to be connected to Richard in any way, which only pushed him deeper into the bottle. I vowed to pay off his debts and ease his mind, but he died before I could fulfill that vow.
So, here I am, waiting for Richard Pierce. I’ll pay him off, and my father’s soul can finally rest.
I take another look at my surroundings. I’m not surprised that Richard is a regular at this place; he was well on his way to being a pathetic fucker when he fucked my dad over.
“Gentlemen. Welcome,” the auctioneer says, taking my attention off the patrons. “Welcome to another week of our auction here at the chapel. Tonight I bring you an array of untouched and delectable goods, and I’ll be back in a minute to unveil them one after the other. Sit tight!”
Motherfucker.
I hate him already. As I stare at his smug face, the need to punch him flares inside me, but I push it back. I’d rather be anywhere but here. But I’m willing to sit through this vile auction just so I can complete my vow to my father. I don’t know what that says about me, but I gave up on walking the straight and narrow the moment I took out my first opponent in a fight.
Every fight leaves a mark on the soul, chipping away at the goodness of a person. It has taken unbreakable will and determination for me to hold on to that hidden part of me that keeps me sane and upright in this world of greed and darkness.
Yet, I can’t deny the coldness inside me. I’ve honed my fighting skills to perfection. I know the right places to hit to end a person’s life. The knowledge doesn’t faze me, but instead gives me an edge.
The auctioneer walks back onto the stage at the one-minute mark with a slick smile. The hall goes silent and the light dims, drawing attention to the bright stage.
“Alright. Starting off the auction, I present item number one!”
A scantily clad young woman stumbles onto the stage, her heels clattering haphazardly. Her fear is evident as she trembles and holds her sides. It’s obvious she’s trying to cover as much skin as she can. I look around to see men with wide eyes filled with sick excitement, and anger rises within me.
The bidding passes in a haze as I sweep my gaze around the room, taking in the numerous armed guards that line all of the exits. There’s nothing I can do to help these girls, so I just…wait.
“One million, going once…going twice…sold!”
The woman exclaims in terror and I watch as her buyer walks up to the stage and drags her back to his seat where she is made to give him a lap dance while other men leer at her. Sick fucks.
The same thing happens with three more girls, and by this time I’m livid. Cold rage burns deep inside me, and I keep asking myself if being here is worth it.
“And now number five! This one is special. A bridge between innocence and sin. An innocent siren.”
The girl walks onto the stage, and I stop breathing. For a second that feels like forever, my heart pounds loudly in my chest, and she’s all I see. It’s as if a deep part of me, the untwisted part, recognizes a kindred soul.
Fuck! This is not happening .
My hand trembles at the intensity of my emotions and I tighten it until my nails bite deep into my flesh. I’ve never been this affected by the opposite sex. Ever. But something about her calls to me.
There’s a confidence to the way she walks, even though I can tell she’s afraid, and it reels me in. Other girls gave in to their misery, but this young woman seems strangely collected. The need to protect her grips me hard. I can’t help it. My gaze travels over her honey-colored skin and my blood rushes straight to my cock.
“Oh fuck,” I mutter, rearranging my stiff length in my trousers.
This isn’t part of the plan. Not those sexy moss-green eyes, the red-painted bow lips, the dark tresses draping over her shapely hourglass body covered in red lingerie that leaves little to the imagination.
There’s an innocence about her, a fragility that calls to me. I want her, but I want to keep her safe. Hell, I need her, but I can’t have her.
I have to restrain myself. What kind of man would I be if I give in like the assholes I’m sitting in this room with?
I see the fear in her piercing green eyes—the way they scamper over the crowd of men in front of her.
A white-hot rage blinds me. It’s potent and consuming, heating up my insides. I don’t want any of their dirty hands on her.
“The bid starts at one hundred thousand.” There’s a sick delight in the announcer’s voice that fuels my rage.
Bastard.
I settle deeper in my seat. Outwardly I’m indifferent, but inside, I’m at war with myself.
She’s far too young for me…
Yet, am I just going to sit back and let one of these fuckers take her home?
“Two hundred thousand!”
“Five hundred thousand!”
I grind my jaw hard. The thought of any of these men touching her makes me want to punch someone to death. The need to possess her scares me, and that surprises me.
Nothing scares me.
But one look at her and I just want to protect her from the world. And from myself.
And fuck her hard...
Damn! I can’t have her.
“Oh. A juicy deal to seal it up—this one is a virgin and the buyer will get a private show immediately following the sale. So bid high!” the auctioneer announces, throwing the room into a frenzy.
Excitement cuts through the air, and I watch those innocent eyes go wide at the announcement. My cock weeps as I imagine her moving sinuously over me, and I can’t help the thought that crosses my mind. Can I outbid them all to get a private show, and then let her go? No, that sounds like a… bad idea.
If I win this bid, I’m not sure I trust my self to let her go afterward.
“One million dollars,” someone calls.
“Two million,” says another.
“Four million.” It seems the prospect of getting a private show from a virgin has them bidding higher.
“Ten million dollars,” a man with silver hair and a potbelly says in an overconfident tone.
“Ten million going once…”
Who am I kidding? She’s mine. No one else can have her.
I press the buzzer. “Twenty million!” I call out with an air of finality.
There’s a shocked silence and I feel eyes on me, but my gaze is fixed on my beautiful girl. My siren. She calls to a deep part of me, and it responds. I’m no longer in control. I see her fear, her resignation, and her determination in those beautiful eyes.
I want to see them heavy and clouded with desire, her lips swollen from my kisses. My cock grows harder at the thought, and I feel even more like a bastard.
“Well, twenty million it is. Going once…going twice, and…sold!” the auctioneer declares.
A guard escorts my prize off the stage.
“Someone will lead the lucky buyer to another room for the private show. Let’s get on with the next merchandise. Number six…”
As the auction goes on, a guard appears beside me. “Sir, please come with me,” he says.
I rise and fall into step behind him, and he leads me into another room. It’s dark and cozy, dimly illuminated with blue lights. The walls are lined with red linens and on one side is a wide red couch that feels as soft as it looks. I settle into the seat, making sure my posture is nonchalant and relaxed. I don’t want to take the chance of scaring her.
Anticipation dances inside me as I wait. I’m starting to get irritated and concerned at the same time. Is something wrong? Are they hurting her? My anger spikes with every question and thought. And just as I resolve to get up and find some answers, the door opens with a snick. The curtain parts, and she walks in, looking like a goddess.