Chapter 43
A large hand grabs me by the neck and then kicks the back of my knee. My fingers slip from Ivy’s as my body buckles. She’s frantic—reaching for me—but the more she fights, the harder the end of the gun is dug into her flesh.
There will be a mark. Hopefully, that’ll be the end of the damage they cause.
Lord, please, give me the strength to get her out of here. Save us.
“Let me go,” I snarl, lip curling over my teeth. Again, the arsehole hits my leg, but I catch myself before I tumble and throw my elbow back. It connects, and the person grunts. It’s low and follows a muffled curse.
Two more blows and the hold on me wavers.
I escape, and in my haste push two people to the floor trying to reach Ivy. From my view, I can see my girl struggling in Clarice’s hold, trying to snatch the mask from her face. To find purchase or an opening to hurt her.
I’ve made it a few steps before someone drags me back; a guard comes to help and pulls on the belt loop of my pants before jamming the butt of his weapon into my side. Shite hurts, and I stumble a bit, almost tripping on a woman kneeling beside a man wearing a mask.
I catch myself and swing an arm back. It lands on someone’s face; I hear the crunch of plastic and then feel the sting of a piece as it pierces my flesh.
Blood drips and I clench my fist, ready to throw another punch. To fight for my doll’s life and give more than just the liquid flowing through my veins if need be.
The guard releases his hold and for some reason rushes off, leaving me with another monster. The same gloved hand from before grips my neck, hand squeezing hard enough that I stop struggling for a second. Enough time to realize that my only way out is to kill him first.
I’m not sure who’s behind me, but the bastard is big.
My guess is Raoul or Jacques. Not that it matters either way as I want them both dead.
The “who” that meets their end first doesn’t matter one lick to me.
My eyes scan the people in front of us, and I see the how. It’s close. Just a few steps away.
“Stop fighting, Noah.” There’s no doubt in my mind as to who has me now. Jacques, piece of shite that he is, whispers low in my ear while pressing his hard cock against me. And I know it isn’t because of me; his groan is at the sight a few feet from us. Ivy, cum dripping down her thigh and blood on her arm, is almost on her knees with Clarice’s hair firmly in her grasp. Giving them hell. “Give in and I promise to fuck her used pussy nice and slow. Make her end as painless as possible.”
His goading goes unanswered. I take a step back, foot stomping on his. I’m forcing him toward my only hope. Those guards have abandoned us. Where is the help? Backup?
We are stupid for trusting them to begin with.
Together, we move toward a table off to the side with an ice sculpture of a voluptuous, naked woman. I’m focusing on getting myself within the reach of the ice pick—praying like hell that no one notices my motivation.
That crackle comes back, and a low male chuckle follows. “Anyone interested in our dear Ivy love?” Murmurs turn into shouts at his question—people fighting to be heard over the other. Both men and women raise their hands in answer while others topple those in their way. “We’ll start the auction at twenty thousand.”
But through our captor’s question, my eyes fall on that fat fuck who’s been eyeing her since we walked in. He licks his lips and holds a hand up. “I want her pussy choking my cock. Money isn’t a problem.” And while he says this, his beady eyes are on mine and a smirk crosses his face.
Same man that offered money to have a threesome with us. That wants to taste the sweetness from between her thighs before others get a chance. He wants bragging rights—to say he was first.
Piece of shite is taunting me. He knows that I am at the mercy of the shite that holds me and can’t attack. In his disgusting, naked glory, he moves toward her. Trying to get closer.
Touch her.
His infatuation is sickening. More than worries me.
“Noah, stand down,” Valerie yells, and it’s then that I notice two guards with their rifles drawn at my head. Ice pick forgotten, I try to rush the pig causing this delay. “Don’t force us to end your night early.”
Guns are cocked.
“Noah, please. Stop!” Ivy’s own plea meets my ears and the desperation in her cry causes me to stop. Not move an inch. Instead, I let Jacques bring me back and closer still to the sculpture.
Wanker thinks that he’s put more distance between us.
Slow and with minimal movement I turn a bit, blocking the corner where the weapon lays, and bring a hand up to scratch my side. I can tell the moment he looks to see what I am doing and lets it go as nothing more than an uncontrollable action.
So, I wait. Another minute passes.
I watch as Ivy is brought up onto a small, elevated stage near the buffet area. It’s right beside a metal box—a debauched go-go cage where two dancers fuck to the heavy thrum of that horrid lullaby.
“Put an amount behind that offer, member number 1166. How many zeros is her cunt worth?” Valerie asks, then snickers, as if offering her pussy to the highest bidder is amusing.
“Fifty-thousand dollars.”
“Going once?” My doll is fighting, yelling, but I can’t make out anything past the sudden rush of adrenaline that’s spiking in my bloodstream. God knows if its minutes or hours later, but the quiet around me fades just as fast as it came, and the whoosh in my ears becomes screams. There are numbers being thrown around, higher and higher, and yet our captor ignores them. “Twice. Anyone?”
It dawns on me at that moment that she’s going to gift her to him. To hurt me. This is my punishment.
To watch them brutalize her. Break her.
“Don’t,” I growl low while my hand reaches for that weapon. Jacques doesn’t think twice about the move I make—he more than likely thinks that I have a nervous reaction to stressful situations and scratch my skin. Bloody idiot. “I’m warning you. Stop this shite.”
“Sold.” And it’s her glee at this auction that forces my hand earlier than expected.
In the blink of an eye, I tighten my hold around the pick and swing back. Embed the tip into the side of Jacques throat and push, relish in the sound of surprise that leaves his throat and how that scream becomes a low gurgle immediately after.
Blood seeps from the wound, bubbling to the surface and then down my hand and wrist. Some of it splatters and mixes with the makeup on my face, creating a more sinister look.
I push it in further and he lets me go.
He falls to his knees while I turn around and with our eyes locked, I pull the weapon out and land a kick to his head. Rejoice as the ground beneath him turns crimson and the life drains from his expression.
Two bloody coughs and he stills. His chest rises slow, then two deep breaths and he’s gone forever.
Immediately after his last inhale, all hell breaks loose.
Shots ring out and people scream in bloody fear. They push and trample—fight to get out. The doors are thrown open by the guests and my next victim stands stunned in the center of the room, a few steps away from the prize that bought him his death.
“What the fuck have you done!” Valerie’s shout of anguish makes me smile. Good. Let her feel a bit of the heartbreak we have faced thus far. “Guards, subdue him now by any means necessary.”
By the time she is done with that threat, I have already killed the older man. With all the ire scorching my veins, I reach him at a speed I didn’t know I was capable of and snap his neck. Just one quick twist with all my strength and a sickening crack rents the air.
He falls, and I stomp over him on my way to Ivy.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the world explode into slow motion. A man breaks from the crowd, heading toward me. In his grip is one of the scalpels that were being used to carve up the bodies on the buffet table.
I speed up, ready to fight but unwilling to stop. Just need to get to Ivy . . .
One of the guards in black jumps in front of the man advancing on me.
Wild, drugged eyes swing on him and out of nowhere, that scalpel sliding into the man’s neck—
The sound of gunfire makes everyone jump.
To the left of me two other guards are shooting people in the crowd.
One of their own has been killed.
A frantic roar leaves some of the members of the audience, many of them rushing to arm themselves against all the guards.
I connect eyes with one of them, and he raises his thumb and then tilts his head toward my girl.
They never left. About time they decide to help before shite got worse.
A shiver runs up my spine and I push a couple running toward the door on my way across the room. More bodies fall to the ground all around me. Their vacant stares look up toward the ceiling while expressions of abject horror mar their features.
Hope they all burn in hell. Arseholes.
Gunshots rain all around me. It’s us versus them, and their guards are hitting the floor faster than I expect. They try to shoot, but nothing comes out of their guns—while the two men trying to help us release round after round with little to no stoppage.
The crowd near the buffet table rushes toward me in their haste to escape next. They’ve been quiet, but the closer the bullets fly toward their section, the more panicky they become.
And still, throughout all this, that fucking lullaby plays in the background.
One woman tries to stab me with a knife, almost succeeding until I twist her arm and shove the tip up her chin and into her skull. That expression of surprise will be forever etched on her face.
More blood on my hands.
More bodies litter the floor.
I welcome the chaos and feed off their fear.
“Fucking move,” I all but snarl, pushing every bloke out of my way in search of Ivy. “Ivy! Baby, where are you?’
Up until this woman tried to stab me, I’ve kept an eye on her, but now, the closer we get to the exit, I can’t see her.
Son of a bitch. I catch a glimpse of her strawberry blonde hair a second before we cross the threshold and are out the door. The second my feet are on the other side, a scream rents the air. Loud and almost demonic, it raises goosebumps on my skin.
People rush out in a crazy mass and we move further out into the hall. This hall is too narrow, and they trample each other in panic.
More steps forward, and I can’t see shite inside that room. I try like hell to make my way through, but instead, they force me into another hallway. It’s empty except for one lone figure standing in front of a room at the end of the passageway.
“Sister, Agnes,” I greet her and walk further into the secluded path. I don’t stop until we are but a mere foot apart, and grin. The devil inside me is showing. The monster they created has come out to play. Her fear is almost hypnotic. “I do believe that you need a confession. Come repent and let us say grace.”