Thirty-Two #3
I let my gaze drift casually around the room as Charles guides us toward the table.
I count silently, trying not to be obvious.
Six...seven...eight women scattered throughout the space.
Most appear to be in their twenties, though a few look younger, barely adults, and I could throw up.
One particularly petite blonde hovers near the bar, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as she serves drinks. They look… Drugged. Compliant.
My senses overwhelmed by the ugly truth, and I see it all for what it is; it’s so obvious. The game is the girls.
The more I scan the room, the more anger bubbles in me, and I try my best to camouflage it. I realize we’re in a room full of hungry wolves, underground, and if we act nervous at all, we may never come out of this so acting aloof is our only chance.
Charles hands us our glasses of Champagne, with a twinkle of too much excitement, taking a little step back as he puts his hands in his suit pants and watches us.
“So, where are you girls from?” he inquires.
“Here. We’re born and raised,” Artemis replies with confidence and pride, because we are absolutely proud to call this village our home.
“Oh goodness, that’s rare, ain’t it?”
“Very.” I smile. “The only hospital in the village closed years ago.”
“Fascinating,” he says, smiling, regarding us. A change in his demeanor makes me nervous. He’s watching my lips, watching my hand holding the glass of champagne.
“This one is special,” Charles says, raising his own glass. His eyes don't leave mine, tracking every tiny movement like a predator. “I have it imported from a special place in Provence, Laurent-Belloc. Have you heard of it?”
The way he emphasizes those last words makes my skin crawl, and I almost choke on my saliva as he waits for my lips to touch the rim of the glass.
“You have to try it,” he insists, his smile tightening at the edges.
“I don't share this with just anyone.” The pressure builds as his stare intensifies.
Artemis shifts beside me, her body language casual, but her grip on my arm tightens in warning.
“Don't.” Liam's voice growls in my ear. “Ask questions about the place.”
I lift the glass slightly, buying time with a smile, and I have no clue what to say. “It looks beautiful. The bubbles are so... delicate.”
I feel something shift in the air. The champagne in my glass trembles slightly from my shaking hand, and I wish I could control my breathing, but everything around screams at me to get the fuck out of here— Now.
And an unavoidable, consuming chill creeps up my spine that has nothing to do with him.
I can't help but look straight ahead, past the poker table with its scattered chips and cards.
There, beneath a large arched doorway on the opposite side of the room, stands a man.
His stare cuts through the haze of cigar smoke and dim lighting with terrifying precision, and my breath catches in my throat.
I recognize those eyes, and just what the fuck is he doing here is the only question I can muster.
Tyler.
The glass nearly slips from my fingers. It's the way he's watching me, with a haunting smirk. Warning? Threat? Triumph? Savior?
Eh…Nope, not that last one.
“Is something wrong, love?” Charles's voice seems to come from a distance drawing me out of my daze, though he's standing right beside me and before I can answer, a gentleman takes Artemis's hand to follow her and our eyes meet but I can’t speak, I’m frozen in place, assessing everything around me.
“Baby, are you okay?” Liam’s in my ear, urgency in his voice and I hum quickly.
I feel trapped between Tyler’s gaze that now turned into a ‘I’ve got you exactly where I need you to be’ and Charles’s insistence is making my whole blood turn cold.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m taking in the room we are in, it’s striking… I didn’t even know this existed under our vill—”
The lights cut out abruptly. Complete darkness engulfs the room, swallowing everything in an instant. Disoriented, I reach out for Artemis, but I recall she is no longer beside me.
“Tattoo!” I call out to her using her nickname, especially surrounded by these men.
Panic rises in my throat as muffled gasps and confused murmurs erupt around me.
Then, I'm violently shoved backward, my champagne glass shatters somewhere at my feet.
My hands instinctively reach out to brace myself and a man's chest pressing against my spine, his arm snaking around my waist. The scent hits me first, a fragrance that triggers a fear response.
"Boo!" A voice chuckles against my ear, breath hot on my neck. “Hide, Sara.”
I try to scream, but the man’s hand clamps over my mouth, fingers digging into my cheeks, and before I can bite his fingers down, he spins me and releases me into the pitch dark, stumbling forward with arms outstretched.
The darkness presses against my eyeballs like thumbs, and my pulse hammers so violently I can feel it in my teeth.
Sweat breaks cold across my skin as my mind spirals into a panic.
“Tattoo!” I scream out loud, but I don’t hear her, just the hammering of my heart.
Liam's voice crackles urgently through my earpiece. “Sara, what’s happening?”
A surge of adrenaline floods my veins like liquid electricity, making my fingertips tingle and my vision sharpen despite the blackness. I have to get back to him.
I either choose to be preyed on by these repulsive monsters or run, run as fucking fast as I can.