Chapter 48
EMRIS
My stomach has been twisted in knots since I woke up.
The shit they drugged me with is finally out of my system, leaving me with a pounding headache.
Every fiber of my being wanted to step in and whisk her away—to do something more than I was able to do, which was fucking nothing.
The weight of my uselessness pins me in place, my body vibrating with rage that I’m not sure how I’m even able to contain.
I understand how the average person could easily give up, how much easier it would be to slip away into another place and not care. Most people could do that and wake up the next day doing the same thing again, but I can’t.
I have someone to live for, and when we get out of here, I know it’ll take time to get back to where we were, but there won’t be a day that goes by where I’ll let her carry the weight of what’s happened here.
The auction is tonight, and the only reason I know is from hearing the guards talk about it when they come and go, taking us to our tasks to do stupid shit for Peter.
To them, I’m not a threat. I’m just a captive waiting for my “boss” to do as he pleases, but I’m not.
If tonight’s the auction, I’ll be finding a way out of here.
I’ve spent all my time thinking of ways to get me and Brielle out.
Each one is more reckless than the last, but I can’t sit down here and do absolutely nothing.
I’ll die trying to get her out if it comes to that.
This time, when two guards enter, they’re laughing. How anyone who willingly works for Peter can show that kind of emotion is beyond me. How can they be okay with this fucked-up shit?
“Hurry the fuck up and come with us,” the taller one shouts, and both Jasper and I set down the chairs we were unstacking.
It doesn’t take us long to get wherever we’re needed this time.
When we walk into a room, my eyes land on Peter and a few of his men surrounding him at a poker table—Troy being one of them.
The guard keeps the muzzle of his gun pressed between my shoulders, and it takes all my strength not to disarm him.
But again, now isn’t the time. I’m outnumbered.
I’d die the second I turn around, so I squeeze my hands into fists.
“Gentlemen! I figured you’d want a break from your chores.” He laughs, and all his cronies follow suit as if we are the entertainment for the evening, and yeah, fuck that.
“Is there something you actually need? Or did we come here for no reason?” I ask, trying to keep any emotion from my face. The more I show, the more he can try to use it against me.
“Oh, Emris, I always have a reason, as you should know by now.” He stands from his chair and rounds the table before stopping in front of us.
“I wanted to invite you to the party.” He gestures to the room around us, but I keep my eyes trained on him, imagining what he’d look like with a knife sticking out of his neck.
“A few girls will be here soon—drinks are at the bar, and poker is being played. With the auction being tonight, it’s the perfect time to celebrate!”
As if things couldn’t get any worse.
Peter walks back to his chair and plops down as the door across the room opens, a few guards guiding girls inside the room, all in handcuffs.
As much as I want to look away, I can’t.
My eyes drag over each girl, looking for Brielle.
A sigh of relief escapes my lungs from knowing she’s not here, but it does nothing for my anger.
These women are about to be raped in this room for pure entertainment and enjoyment.
At the hands of these men who deserve to be burned alive.
I look over at Jasper, and his eyes are focused on one person.
When I look back at the girls, I see he’s looking at this small girl with blonde hair.
She doesn’t look like she’s aware of anything, like she’s completely checked out.
There’s a story there with Jasper, but I won’t ask him. That’s his story to tell in due time.
The gun pressing against my back disappears, and I move away freely.
“Pick a woman, pull up a chair, or grab a drink! It’s time to celebrate!
” Peter shouts, and everyone joins in. All the girls are directed to cots along one side of the wall.
Some are taken by the men and dragged into a separate part of the room where there’s a little more privacy, but I stay glued to the spot I’m in.
When I go to look at Jasper, I see he’s already walking off with that girl and into the back part of the room. His eyes keep darting around as if looking to make sure no one sees him, but I know Jasper wouldn’t hurt her.
Instead of trying to figure him out, I head toward the bar. Maybe a drink will clear my mind. But can I trust that whatever I’m served won’t be laced with something?
I sit down on one of the stools, and the man working the bar nods at me.
“Just a beer,” I tell him, messing with the drink menu on the bartop.
He comes back seconds later, setting a glass bottle in front of me, and I take the chance of drinking it anyway.
After a few minutes of not feeling like I’m drugged, I keep sipping it.
My hands tighten around the glass when I hear all the things going on in the room.
Men laughing and clanking their glasses together, the sound of skin slapping and poker chips being tossed. It all rings through my ears.
Once my bottle is empty, I ask for another. I’m deep in my head when a hand grips my shoulder.
“How’s it going, brother? You having a good time?” Troy asks, sitting down next to me, but I shrug his hand off.
“Not your brother. And what do you honestly think, Troy? Is being in a place like this fun for me? I kill men like this for a living. Men like you.” I bring the bottle to my lips and take another swig, trying to keep my cool before I hit him over the head with it.
“I think you’re worried about Brielle, but you shouldn’t be, Emris. I’ve been taking good care of her,” he whispers in my ear as he stands.
I don’t think as my beer bottle crashes against his head, and he drops to the ground. I straddle him, my fist connecting with his nose. Troy screams but doesn’t try to fight back. He only grips his face as he sobs. Two hands pull me from him, and I go willingly this time.
“You even so much breathe the same air as her again, I’ll slit your throat and watch you bleed out.” I spit at him before turning and walking away. Peter leans back in his chair with a gleam in his eye.
That threat wasn’t only for Troy—it was for Peter too, and he knows it.