Chapter 89 House of Horrors – Briar
HOUSE OF HORRORS
brIAR
Lily and I are shoved forward through the back entrance of a ghastly estate. A dark mansion, long since abandoned, judging by the vegetation overgrowth and the musty smell that hits us when we enter the ground level.
“I don’t like this. It’s like a scene straight out of a horror movie..”
“Shhh,” I hiss at Lily at my side. “Keep your head down and your ears open.”
The man who took us from the loft leads the way.
Seamus O’Rourke. Koen’s uncle.
“What do you think, ladies? Pretty grand, eh?” he says as he marches us through the foyer. A chandelier lights the space overhead, but it’s covered in cobwebs and hanging slightly askew.
There are voices up ahead… and music… We get closer, coming up to what must be the ballroom, and I catch a glimpse of… yes, it’s a fucking party.
“What the fuck?” Lily whispers, and I just stare.
“My idea,” Seamus boasts as we walk by the entrance.
The room is filled with mostly men, but some women, dressed to impress, drinks in hand, while servers circle with trays of hors d’oeuvres.
“A little fun before the games begin.” He raises his brows in excitement and I feel bile rise up in my throat.
The auction.
I swallow hard and exchange a look with Lily.
“Ah, not to worry, ladies, it truly is your lucky day. You get to escape all of that pomp and circumstance.” A sharp tug on my elbow and I’m redirected, both of us dragged downstairs into what looks to be the basement. Something tells me that lucky is not quite how I would’ve phrased it…
“I should really kill you,” Seamus prattles on. “You two have been nothing but a problem from the start, especially you.” He turns to glare at me. “But unfortunately, for now, you’re worth more alive than dead,” he laments.
Koen promised me the Irish had nothing to do with any of this. He swore it. And I believe him. I still believe him. I don’t know what Seamus is up to, but I’m certain that, whatever it is, Koen doesn’t know.
We walk down a long hallway, and he pushes open another door. The smell wafting out is horrid, and I wince. I can’t quite place the scent, but I’m able to isolate the overwhelming stench of urine. But even that horrible smell alone could not prepare me for what’s on the other side of that door.
Cages.
Actual cages.
Row after row after row of them. And inside of each… girls.
I crowd in closer to Lily, and feel her grip on my arm as we dig our heels in at the sight, but it seems our party is coming to a stop. A couple of men step forward to greet us.
Seamus gives them a nod. “Strip them to their underwear. They’ve already been sold, and their buyer doesn’t want any marks.” He gives the men a hard look. “He paid a pretty penny for this set, and he is not to be displeased. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When you’re done, room three,” Seamus instructs, and he receives a nod in return.
What happens next is downright dehumanizing. Seamus leaves and the men grab us, dragging us down the long aisle between cages and into another room where we’re both stripped of our clothes.
Lily panics, thrashing in their hold, and they resort to ripping hers off. Cold, practiced and fast. They continue until we’re left with nothing but our underwear.
A man steps forward with a tray of numbered plastic tags. Tiny. Like cattle tags. I struggle in the hold of the two men who have a grip on me, when he picks one up, loading it into some sort of gun.
“No.” A man with a clipboard steps forward. “The buyer requested they not be tagged.”
A breath of relief escapes me as the man with the tray disappears out of the room, and I am thankful to whoever the fuck the buyer is for that, and that alone.
Clipboard Man gives both Lily and me a once-over before nodding in approval.
“Take them to room three.”
It’s probably our only opportunity to escape, but like the well-oiled machine that this place is, they know that.
We’re both handcuffed and escorted by more than enough guards, up two flights of stairs and into a bedroom.
Except there is no bed. It’s been replaced by a four-by-six-foot steel-barred cage that Lily and I are pushed into, the door locked behind us.
Then they leave us there.
“Are you okay?” I ask Lily after several minutes when she’s still quiet. She’s tucked into a ball in the corner, staring at her knees.
“Mhmm,” she murmurs, without looking up.
I sit down next to her, throwing an arm around her and pulling her into me. They took the handcuffs off when they shoved us in here. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.
“I don’t know, Briar…” The seriousness of her tone is unsettling.
I finger the silver chain around my neck between my fingers. The men overlooked it when they stripped me. “Koen’s on his way,” I tell her.
She looks up at me. “B…”
“He’s coming,” I say, staring at the door. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
The door to the room opens, and we both jump.
It’s been a few hours. I have goosebumps all over my body; the two of us have been huddling together for warmth. There’s no heat in this decrepit mansion.
My heart sinks when the man that steps inside of the room is not Koen.
The room seems to grow colder with his presence. Lily curls into a tighter ball, but I rise to my feet, stepping up close to the bars.
“Briar Elizabeth Ralston.” The man comes closer, giving me an appraising look.
He’s tall, about the same age as Koen or Aidan, and terrifyingly beautiful, a walking nightmare: pale blue eyes that remind me of ice; dark hair; nice suit—violence wrapped in elegance.
He’s playing with a small silver lighter in his hand but makes no attempt to touch me.
There’s no warmth in his eyes, just cold, detached assessment.
“Who the fuck are you?” I bite back at him, figuring there’s no need for manners since I’m locked in a cage. His use of my middle name sets me more on edge, and my eyes narrow. I don’t recognize the man—I’ve never seen him before.
“Ronan Volkov,” he tells me, his voice cold.
My heart catches in my throat, and a faint smile appears on that hard, stony face.
“You’ve heard of me?”
I force a swallow and nod my chin, staring up at the monster who’s become utterly fixated on Koen and his family.
“Good.” He smiles. It’s worse than his frown. “Because I’ve heard a lot about you.” He takes a turn about the room, dropping the lighter into his pocket before wiping a single finger down a nearby table, looking disgusted at the dust he pulls up.
“What do you want?” I’m shaking, half from the cold and half from the trauma of it all, but I still glare at him defiantly.
“I’m a collector,” he turns toward me, “of a very particular type of woman.” He steps closer, but I refuse to back up, the bars still separating us. “One the Irish just go mad for,” he purrs out in his Russian accent, forcing my stomach to do a flip. He wants to hold us over Koen and Aidan’s heads.
He tilts his head to look behind me, where Lily is curled in the corner, and the cold deadness of his eyes flares to life with a quick flash of rage.
“That’s not Aurora Adrikova Kostalova,” he growls, and I can’t help but smile a little.
“No, it’s not,” I say quietly, taking what pleasure I can in ruining his fucking day.
Pissed, he stalks to the door, pounding on it hard before it opens. “Tell Seamus I want a word before I leave.” He checks his watch. “I have a flight to catch.” He points at the cage—at Lily. “I’m no longer in need of that one.”
My lips curl as I glare daggers at him.
“The other one, you will deliver?”
“Yes, sir.” The guard nods, and Ronan looks satisfied, giving me one last look.
“I’ll see you soon, little rose,” he mocks, and my eyes flame. “Try not to lose too much hope; it’s far more fun to shatter it in person.” With a cruel smile, he steps out into the hallway, replaced almost instantly with several of the mansion’s guards.
“No! No! No!” I shout when they go to unlock the door to the cage.
Two of them grab me, and I fight them, clawing, kicking, biting, but it’s over in seconds. They have me pressed hard up against the bars as more guards drag a sobbing Lily out of the cage.
I scream blood-curdling screams, thrashing in their hold, but I can’t get them to budge. I can’t stop them from taking her, and our eyes meet just before she’s dragged out into the hall.
And no matter how many times I scream her name, she doesn’t come back.