That wasn’t a miscalculation on my part; I want to be in the back, engulfed in shadows. The man hurries in front of me, his footsteps light on the bare concrete. He leads the way into the main room, trying to be respectful of the fact that the show has already started.
About fifteen men stand in little clumps, their attention glued to the girl being led up onto a raised platform by a masked man in black. The girl is wretched, her skin sallow and her bones all but showing through her dress. She’s also high as a fucking kite, her eyes large and glassy, her mouth so dry it’s cracked in a few places.
“This is Selina… She starts at $10,000…” the man announces in a high-pitched voice.
Immediately, two hands shoot up.
“Alright, I’ve got twelve thousand…” the man says.
More hands go up.
I relax a little, rolling my shoulders. I’m not here for just any girl, so I can tune out the bidding war. All I have to do is not become impatient and lose my temper with anyone here before Katherine Carolla is called up.
Easy enough, as long as the other men keep their distance.
While I wait, I bide my time by thinking about the girl.
Katherine.
I hate that name. One of the first things I’m going to do is make her wear my chains…
And the second thing is to rename her. Something more fitting to her new station.
Like Slave. Or Servant.
My lips curve upward in the cruelest secret smile.
I’m going to take her to my compound, far away from here. There, I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. I am like a king on my compound.
Then I’m going to enjoy slowly breaking her bones and swiftly crushing her spirit. Let her know that I have killed her family; let her know that no one is coming to save her. When she weeps for her father and brothers, I will whip her for caring that they existed.
I tighten my fists. It is her fault for being born a Carolla. Her fault that they are all dirty, tainted fucking losers.
Scratch that… were losers. I’ve pretty much ticked every one of them off my list of people to kill. I eviscerated each one of the bastards back there in the warehouse, and I did it with a smile.
Their dead eyes stared back at me as I laughed. They all learned not to fuck with what I call mine…
I picture Anna, her mouth open in a surreal display of surprise. Even if she was just some whore, she was still my whore. My property. Mine.
I push the memory down. There are other things to focus on, like the way it will sound when I snap the cuffs closed on Katherine’s wrists. I focus on that, tuning out the bidding for the next girl, and the next.
Of course, I will have to buy Katherine. A lot of money, if these sad looking girls are anything to judge by.
And because she made it so difficult for me to find her, she is going to really suffer. Much more than if she’d simply been present the day I murdered her family.
A thought comes into my head.
A confession. I could make her sign a confession, of her own free will. Owning up to everything that her family did that displeased me, including Anna’s death.
That would be fun.
After I’ve stripped her of her will to live, she will beg me for the release that death brings. Just like the others did.
And then I’ll choke her, slowly. I will be the one to see the light leave her eyes, see her entire being flicker out of existence.
That moment… that moment will be so, so sweet.
Across the room, the dull brunette slave currently being auctioned off collapses. No one overreacts, which is kind of strange. The auctioneer just calls the last bidder the winner, while another burly man in a mask comes and gathers the girl up, throwing her over his shoulder almost carelessly.
“Katherine is our next girl,” the auctioneer buzzes. “Bring out Katherine.”
I sit up a little straighter. A petite blonde is guided out onto the platform, her delicate features enhanced by her white dress. She leans her head back to look around, her head wobbling.
It’s her.
She’s pretty, in a delicate sort of way. Large expressive eyes, a full mouth, high cheekbones. What is so striking to me is that she looks like Anna, my favorite whore in New Orleans. There is a similarity around the eyes, and a sort of wisdom that is out of place on someone her age.
It makes me wonder what Katherine has seen. It makes me wonder too what Anna saw, in her brief years on this planet. That thought makes me tense up and makes me grit my teeth. I feel the impressions of my nails biting into the palms of my hands as I clench my fists. Denis nods to her with a questioning look, and I nod back.
That’s the girl we came here for. That’s the girl we’re going to be leaving with, no matter what.
She’s very young. I study her. Her frail arms, her small tits. Her face, sort of elven in quality, with big blue eyes, an upturned nose, full wide lips.
Oh, the things I plan to have those lips do. She surveys the room with those blue eyes of hers, but her face gives nothing away.
I realize with a start that she’s not terrible looking, not even standing front and center in that hand-me-down dress. That doesn’t really matter to me, but it doesn’t hurt, either.
Fuck, I am a man, after all.
The man holding her up is doing a shitty job, letting her fall halfway over. Clearly, she’s on the same drug as the rest of the girls. She’d better not fucking pass out, not before I buy her.
I want her to remember the feeling of being treated like a piece of property.
“Young Katherine is still a virgin,” the auctioneer calls. His words hit me like a ton of bricks. A virgin? That will likely double her price. “She belonged to Sal Carolla. Now she can belong to you.”
Several men cheer, ready to claim their prize. But those men don’t realize that I am in the audience, or that I am who I am, or that I’m here for her.
I start to move forward, cupping my hands around my mouth. “One million. One million, and we’re done.”
Everyone turns and looks at me, some seeming surprised.
“One million, from this gentleman,” says the auctioneer. “Do I hear—”
“One and a quarter,” calls a man across the way. He smirks at me.
“One and a half,” I say.
“Two million!” says the man. “Two million dollars.”
“Three,” I growl.
The man hesitates, looking at the two men who are with him. One of them nods to him, and he grins. “Three point five.”
“Four million,” I call out, even though it is a stunning amount of money.
Money is no object, not today.
The other man pulls out his gun, though what he plans to do with it I’m not certain. He makes the deadly mistake of looking as though he might be aiming at me, and the next thing I know, I have my gun drawn.
Instinct takes over, slowing things down for me. Everyone ducks for cover. Soon there is a bullet hole neatly between his eyes. My gun smokes just a little.
Everyone else begins to move. The sound of dozens of guns being cocked rings loudly in the still air. Denis