Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Alice stiffened beneath my arm.
I almost rolled my eyes.
A loud chime sounded.
Shit.
I’d completely forgotten.
All the tattooed women slowly moved through the room in a sea of red dresses, and then they went through the open black door as my men waited on either side.
Alice looked up at me. “What’s going on?”
“Bidding hour,” Ax answered before I could get a word out.
“Bidding.” Alice scrunched up her nose. “Like a silent auction?”
Ax’s lips twitched.
I shook my head slowly.
I narrowed my eyes as a few De Lange men made their way through the crowd, including Alice’s brother, his lips swollen and expression sullen. Clearly, missing part of his tongue was not a huge impairment. Maybe once other parts were missing…
“Who let them in?” I clenched my teeth as Ax followed my gaze. “I want whoever it was, fired.”
“They’re paying customers,” Ax pointed out. “And you always keep your enemies close.”
Alice shrunk next to me, like she wanted me to shield her body.
I knew if we walked back to the apartment they’d see her.
“Shit.” I hung my head. “Guard my bidding room. No one comes in, knock twice once they’ve had their drinks and are seated in the auditorium.”
“Right away.” Ax nodded.
“Come on.” I led Alice to the room I’d brought her to days ago, the one with the red and green blinking lights, the one that exposed her to the truth.
My truth.
A sickness washed over me as I unlocked the door and gently shoved her in then locked the door behind me.
It was dark except for the single light on in the auditorium.
All of the women in red waited in the middle, standing on the concrete like goddesses.
Lights flickered.
And then a single woman stood there, head held high.
I didn’t know her name.
The number flashed above her, six thirty-six.
Alice gasped.
“Don’t look…” I said through clenched teeth.
“This,” She touched the bulletproof glass. “How often does this happen?”
“Every night.” I walked up behind her, thankful that nobody could see in, wishing that we couldn’t see out.
I didn’t want her to look.
Damn it.
I flipped her around and kissed her shoving her body against the glass, my mouth tasting hers as cheers erupted around the auditorium.
She didn’t see the blood splatter the glass next to us.
She didn’t see the trail of it running down the cement mixing with the woman’s tears.
Another light flashed.
Alice pulled back from me, her eyes locked on mine, and then she very slowly turned, even though I gripped her tight.
The woman was dead, her throat in the process of getting slit after she was shot in the head, execution style.
Alice gagged and covered her face with her hands. “What was she guilty of?”
“Existing,” I whispered lifelessly. “Breathing.” I shrugged. “Take your pick.”
Alice shoved against me. “I need to get out of here, I need to leave, I need—”
“Shh,” I tugged her back against me. “You’re hysterical. Running out of this room gets you put in that auditorium. You want to know how you get a tattoo? By not choosing me!”
“Great!” she roared. “So, I either suffer at my brother’s hands, or you get bored with me and throw me down into the auditorium!”
“Have I even touched you?” I shoved her against the glass, my hands on either side of her face, pressing the glass so hard that my fingers hurt. “Have I fucked you?”
“N-no.” She lifted her gaze to mine. “But you want to.”
The denial built up in my throat.
And never came out.
Her face grew harder. “And when you finally do… is that what happens to me?”
“No,” I rasped. “Never.”
“And yet you let it happen to others. To women who have done nothing wrong!”
“Raise your voice at me one more time,” I seethed. “And I’ll lock you somewhere nobody will hear you scream.”
She slapped me.
Hard.
I jerked back in shock. Nobody touched me without my permission. And nobody struck me more than once.
Nobody.
My nostrils flared as two knocks sounded on the door.
I had her by the wrist and out the door in a flash, dragging her down the hall.
She screamed.
And I let her hate me.
I let her scream at me.
I let her curse me to Hell.
I let her.
Because it was like throwing cold water over my burning body.
She was right.
I wasn’t hers.
She wasn’t mine.
This wasn’t a fairy tale.
I killed innocent women.
I’d always killed innocent women.
And she was right.
I would tire of her once I took her, just like my father had tired of his women; I was his son, after all.
She’d revealed my biggest fear without even knowing it.
That I was just like him.
That once I had sex with someone, I would need more and more until it turned violent like it had for him.
Until I needed them younger and younger.
Until I needed more.
Always more.
I jerked open the door to the apartment and shoved her in, then locked them, and stomped past her.
“Andrei—”
“Six thirty-two,” I interrupted without turning around.