I cry out, falling to my knees, tears springing to my eyes. While I’m stunned, he leaves, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Wait!” I call after him. “Please wait!”
But he is gone. I crawl on my hands and knees to the door, peering out the slot. Like before, it is made so that I can only see white walls. I can hear plenty, but nothing really sticks out.
“Hello?” I call. “Can anyone hear me?”
If the other women can, they don’t respond to me directly. I sink down, despondent.
Mostly, I’m wondering, what now? Why am I here? What is about to happen?
Not too long after my guard leaves, a tiny old Asian woman opens my door. Scowling at me, she holds a fancy white dress on a hanger in one hand and a little,0 zippered pouch in the other.
I sit up, studying her face. “Can you tell me where we are?”
If she speaks English, she doesn’t care to answer. Instead, she just motions to the shift dress I’m wearing. “Off!”
“Please, where are we?” I say, imploring her.
The woman looks nonplussed and sets the little pouch down.
“Off now!” she says, raising her voice.
“No!” I argue.
A taser appears from the woman’s voluminous skirts. She brandishes it, impatient with me. “Off!”
I bite my lip, gauging the distance between me, her, and the door. She sees me looking and steps more fully between me and the door. She rattles the hanger.
I wouldn’t have made it anywhere even if I had tried. I know that.
“Off!” she repeats, her tone growing panicky. She glances over her shoulder. I realize that maybe isn’t here of her own free will either.
I turn my back on her and pull the shift up over my head. The woman tsks, turning me around. I shiver and try to use my hands to cover my nakedness. I am extremely ashamed, but my red cheeks do nothing to give the woman pause.
She just puts the taser back in her skirts and motions for me to put my hands up over my head. I lift my hands up, and she slips the dress off of the hanger, forcing it down over my head.
I help work the white tulle dress down over my body, dropping its full skirt to the floor. It is a stunning dress; I feel stupid wearing it, not having showered or shaved for three days.
I want to ask what I am being dressed up for, but the more time I spend with this woman, the less convinced I am that she knows anything at all.
The woman grabs the little pouch that she dropped on the floor, unzipping it to reveal a basic makeup kit. She says something in her native tongue, motioning for me to be still. I close my eyes as she dabs some silver eye makeup on my face with her fingers, then does a lot of bright pink blush with a long brush.
When she’s done, she looks at me, appraising me. She gives a decisive nod, then turns to leave.
“Wait—” I say, but she doesn’t, shutting the door behind her.
Instead, my guard reappears, a syringe in his hand. My eyes widen as I realize that I’m going to be dosed again, and I struggle as he grabs me.
“No! No, I don’t want that!” I cry. “No, please—”
He injects me in my upper arm, ignoring my struggles. Instead of everything going black though, the world just seems to soften. The light takes on a golden hue and my interest in resisting…
Whatever that was, it’s gone now.
My guard leads me out of my cell by the arm, and I go, utterly docile.
3
Arsen
As my two enforcers ride in the front seats, I sit in the back seat of the SUV, my fingers tented. I stare pensively out the window. After a wild three days of almost nonstop negotiating and threatening, I’ve finally managed to find her.
Katherine Carolla, the wretched daughter of Sal Carolla.
See, Sal wouldn’t give up his daughter’s location, even when my booted foot was on his neck, my gun pointed to his temple. I admit I was in a little bit of awe of him, of that kind of stubborn protectiveness. Of course, I killed him anyway, but I still admired it.
Then I found out that the real reason old Sal wouldn’t fess up to hiding pretty little Katherine is that he sold her to a very exclusive private auctioneer.
He sold her.
Like she wasn’t his daughter. As if she was just an asset to him, and he was just biding his time, keeping her hidden until he could profit from her unveiling.
When I found out, I was so surprised I actually laughed out loud.
As it turns out, little Katherine wasn’t being protected by her daddy after all. Her daddy was protecting someone who Sal knew would dress up his daughter and sell her to the highest bidder. A person whom, it was assumed, would rape her thousands of times. Or pass her around to his friends, maybe.
Or just plain kill her.
If I was capable of feeling such a thing, I would almost feel sorry for Kathrine.
Almost.
Too bad she was a Carolla. She would be made to pay, as Anna had paid. Except I had bigger plans for Katherine…
Plans that involved breaking her, body and soul. Using a special blend of physical labor, torture, and sex to brainwash her. To torment her into thinking whatever I want her to think.
She hasn’t even laid eyes on me yet, but her mind and body are mine.
Then I can trot her out at strategic intervals, namely, to scare the shit out of my rivals. My perfect little pet, all dark and twisty. I get a little hard right here in the car, just thinking about ruining her body, crushing her spirit.
My enforcer Denis pulls into a gated area that surrounds what looks like a beige airplane hangar, closed on all four sides. The building is isolated from everything else, no structure is even close to it. Denis pulls up to a security checkpoint, presenting my invitation to the auction to the armed guard.
An invitation that I had to pull in several favors to receive.
The guard looks at me, looks at Denis and Roget, and then waves us through. A valet attendant directs us to pull up at an unmarked door. I get out of the car, stretching a little bit. I look at my two enforcers, who are scanning the entire parking lot and the entrance for threats.
I consider myself tall and broad, at a little over six feet. Denis and Roget are fucking enormous though, each six and a half feet tall and built like twin lumberjacks.
Well, if lumberjacks dressed in trench coats and were armed to the fucking teeth, that is.
“This way, gentlemen, if you will?” a man says, bowing as he opens the door.
I lead the way inside, blinking at the darkness. We step into a small space, lit only by a heavy-duty flashlight.
“Gentlemen, if you will find a mask?” the man says, gesturing to a table full of identical black face masks.
Roget grabs three masks, and I take mine from him. After he and Denis slide their masks on, I pull mine on as well. We all look at each other, at the almost comical erasure of our most distinguishing features.
“Grim,” Denis says. Roget just grunts and adjusts his heavy jacket.