Chaotic Anger: The Seven MC Book 1

by Breck, A. R.

  Whether it be the soft velvet feel of the petals or the colorful sunflowers, orchids, marigolds, and gladiolus, Lilah loves them all. To see the smile split between her little pouty lips is something that keeps me going in this retched hell.

  I stand up, reaching my hand down and waiting for her to place her hand in mine. “Okay, then. Let’s go check out the flower garden.”

  5

  Ivy

  “You look lovely, Ivy.” Elana finishes the last couple curls of my hair. I look beautiful, I’ll give her that. The somber air doesn’t lessen as time goes on though, and it’s because we both understand what kind of a party this will be tonight. We both know what kind of man Santiago is.

  “Thanks.” I sigh as she unplugs the straightener. My blonde hair now hangs down my back in loose curls, and my blue eyes stand out with the dark smokey eye Elana created earlier. A soft red lip tops off my looks.

  “It’ll be fine. Just another night. It’ll be over before you know it and then you can spend the entire day with Lilah tomorrow.” I smile at her as I walk over to the over to my dress that lay on top of my bed. It’s a black sheath dress that forms to every dip and curve of my body. The front dips low, creating a slim v that ends right above my belly button. The mesh overlay covers it, giving me a little comfort even when I know it’s still revealing. The mesh goes all the way up to my neck, and the bottom has a slit up the side that ends about mid-thigh. With Paired with a pair of black heels, I feel like I should be twenty-nine instead of nineteen.

  Ms. Maria is who would usually get me ready for the night, but she’s feeding Lilah dinner, so Elana gets the honor of perfecting my look for the evening. It I don’t hurry, I might be late, so I slip the robe off my shoulders and into the dress. I slip the sleeveless dress over my shoulders and give my back to Elana. “Would you zip me?”

  Elana smiles as she walks up to me, pulling the top of the dress together and zipping me closed with the other hand. I suck in as I get suctioned between this claustrophobic piece of fabric.

  “Last but not least.” My stomach sinks as she presents my choker necklace. The piece of jewelry that serves as a collar more than anything else. The signature piece that names me as his. I am Jefe’s and no one else’s.

  I am his submissive.

  The necklace is a gold chain on front and a thick, black leather on the back. A dainty ring hangs on the end, front, and center. Below that ring, engraved in the gold is Santiago’s initials.

  SF.

  Santiago Fernandez.

  The drug lord of Mexico.

  El Jefe.

  I feel like my breath is choked out of me as Elana clasps the collar around my neck. The final click makes me inhale a quick breath. I don’t know why, but this night makes me feel particularly uneasy. Every night Santiago has a party makes me feel uneasy, but this night more so than others.

  “You ready?” Elana’s soft voice behind me snaps me from my thoughts. She puts her hands on my shoulders, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she looks at me in the mirror from behind. Nerves break out in the form of shivers, and I feel utterly sad.

  My day with Lilah was amazing. A day surrounded by the smell of flowers, the sun warming our skin and the sight of my daughter made my day perfect. Ending it with Santiago soils the entire day and makes it feel tainted.

  “Ivy? Are you ready? You’re about to be late.”

  “No, I’m not ready, but I have no choice. Let’s go.”

  We walk outside, arms linked at our elbows. I’m thankful for Elena. I wouldn’t have nearly as much strength if I didn’t have Elena at my side.

  We stop at the front door and she wraps me in a hug. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.” And with that, she turns and walks around the house to one of the back entrances. She can’t be seen going into this high-profile party like this in her housekeeper uniform. Santiago would never allow it. She must go in through the back, where she can remain invisible with the rest of the staff.

  I wish Santiago found me invisible.

  I’m sure Ms. Maria has given Lilah her nighttime bath and they are on their side of the mansion for the rest of the night. I wish I could have tucked her in. I wish I could’ve given her a bath. I wish so many things.

  I promise myself that someday I will be able to do those things. I don’t care what I have to do, but someday I’ll be with her again. When I want and as much as I want.

  “Ms. Ivy. El Jefe is waiting for you over by the bar.” One of the butlers says as I walk up the steps. I nod at him and continue walking in through the house. I’ve learned this mansion like the back of my hand.

  I keep my gaze straight ahead, looking at no one. Making eye contact with no one. I can see the people I’ve met before out of the corner of my eye, and I can sense those I’ve never seen in my life. Those gazes linger longer, curiosity and lust exuding off of them as their eyes stick to me a beat too long. People bustle around the room in excitement of what’s yet to come. Waiters and waitresses rush around the room, albeit smoothly and flawlessly, with hors d’oeuvres and others walk around with platters filled with flutes of the most expensive champagne.

  I notice Santiago out of the corner of my eye and halt in my steps. I almost trip, not noticeable to anyone but myself. I can tell when Santiago senses me, because his spine snaps straight and he turns his body towards me. I paste a blank look on my face and walk up to him, stopping in front of him and lacing my hands behind my back.

  In the bedroom, I’m not allowed to make contact. In public, when I’m with Santiago and in a submissive state, I’m not allowed to make eye contact—unless—I am directly spoken to. In that instance, I am to always maintain eye contact. As a submissive, I am rarely spoken to directly. But every once in a while, I am. It’s difficult to stare at someone in the eyes when you know they are a monster. When you know they are here to buy some underage girl to hold as a pet. The unthinkable acts they will do to them and the abuse they will inflict on them. It makes me want to spit in their face. Instead, I give them my full attention even when my body begs me not to.

  “Ivy, you look stunning.” Santiago’s scotch filled breath swirls through my senses. I glance up and make eye contact with him.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He eyes trace my face, inspecting the work and searching for any imperfections that may be embarrass him. When he sees none, he smiles a sinister smile and says, “Tonight is important. The auction will be held after dinner, but after that there are a few people who have been looking forward to meeting you. I except the upmost respect and best behavior out of you.”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  “Let’s get seated for dinner.” Santiago places his hand half on my ass and half on my lower back. The urge to flinch flows through my veins and a shiver nearly racks my body. I keep it at bay, staring straight ahead with a neutral look on my face. Santiago pulls my chair out and pushes it in once I’m seated. I keep my face void of all emotions, trained perfectly to act as his submissive pet. It took a while. I wanted to object and flee many times throughout the years, but I’ve become a master at being submissive. As sad and sick as it is, it’s true.

  We go through our four-course meal. Santiago speaks with people that are sitting nearby, laughing, and acting as big and in control as he can possibly get. The women want him, and the men want to be him. He is respected to the highest degree, and no one dare cross him or disagree with him in any form.

  Once the tables are cleared, people get up to mingle. Women drink champagne and men drink scotch or whisky. The energy amps up as the grand stage in front of us gets set up for the live auction. They’re ready for the fresh meat. It makes me nauseous, and my four-course meal threatens to make a reentrance.

  I notice Alexia walking around the perimeter of the room. Her role in tonight’s event is to serve whoever requests her services. It doesn’t matter the number of men that request it. She is to be a servant, to act like a proper submissive, and do whatever they please. She doesn’t noti
ce me, but I do what is against the rules and stare at her as walks around in her shimmery rose gold dress that sits above her knees. Her chest is pushed up, showing off her cleavage. Her neck is slim and sleek, accentuated from her hair being up in a curled updo. She looks beautiful, but I can tell from her eyes she is as lost as I am. As all of us are.

  “Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen. Tonight, is going to be a spectacular night. We have got some exquisite numbers to introduce to you.” The announcer, whose name I’ve never bothered to memorize, speaks at the podium. The large wooden stage sits in front of us, the podium with a small microphone sitting right in the center. Memories flood my mind as I relive myself up on that stage. Remembering how scared and alone and cold I felt even as the spotlight burned down on me.

  I remember the countless number of girls up on that stage that I’ve had to watch die and become someone else as the announcer would bark, “Sold!”

  I can feel the excitement building as the men around me start salivating at the mouths like rabid dogs. My body tingles with nerves and unease. It feels like a snake is sliding across my skin and leaving its bitter venom in its wake.

  I watch as a young girl is ushered out onto stage. She looks pale and sickly, even with the makeup caked on making her look like a model. She’s young, maybe sixteen years old. Her light brown hair looks like gold as the light shines down on it. The white dress makes her look angelic, pure, and I know men are going to gobble her up for it.

  “From Alabama. Fifteen years old. We’re going to start our bid at fifteen hundred dollars.”

  A hand raises.

  “Two thousand.”

  “Four thousand.”

  “Forty-five hundred.”

  “Six thousand.”

  The numbers keep going, and the girl looks like she’s going to be sick as she silently cries. Her big eyes drip mascara down her cheeks as the tears smear her perfectly done makeup. She looks around the room, darting from person to person in hopes in finding an ally. A savior. When she lands on me, I blank out my face from the emotion that I know wants to break free. Her mouth opens on a silent cry, and my eyes drop off her face as I look at the wall behind her.

  “Fifteen thousand.”

  “Sold! Fifteen thousand to Mr. Patel.”

  She doesn’t exist.

  She doesn’t exist.

  She doesn’t exist.

  She can’t exist, because if she does, then I’m failing another girl as I let her get lost in the world. The moment she’s sold, she becomes another statistic. She’s no longer a girl.

  And I don’t even know her name.

  The announcer doesn’t say her name because her personal information is scrubbed the moment she crosses the border. Some people have preferences on where their girl is from, but besides that, her previous life disappears.

  Seven more girls come up on the stage, all of them just as young and beautiful as the next. All of them are sold for over ten thousand dollars.

  By the time the last girl is ushered off the stage into the arms of her new captor, I’m sick, sad, and completely exhausted. I want nothing but to curl up in my uncomfortable bed with my cold sheets and forget this night. Wake up tomorrow and spend my day creating good memories with Lilah so I can forget the miserable ones.

  I spot Alexia as a man walks into her personal space. She is unaware though, and she startles, turning around and spilling some of her champagne from the flute onto the man in front of her. He turns from interested to irritated in a span of a second and slaps her across the face so hard she falls back into the bar behind her. The back of her head hits the corner of the bar.

  I gasp.

  My hand flies up to my mouth. “Alexia.” I whisper, smart enough to not cry it out or run towards her, but stupid enough to react in the first place.

  Santiago whips his gaze towards me. Menacing fury slithers into his gaze like a raging fire. “What did you just say?”

  I swallow, but all reflexes fail. “I’m so sorry, Sir.”

  He grabs onto my cheeks, thumb, and pointer over my dimples, and he squeezes. Hard. “I think that’s enough for tonight. Go up to the room and wait for me. I will meet you there later this evening.”

  The room.

  I want to plead my apologies and ask for forgiveness. I don’t want to go to the room. Nothing good happens in the room.

  But asking for forgiveness is foolish. Asking for anything would be idiotic.

  “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.” I lace my hands behind my back and act the perfect submissive.

  “You will be. Go.” He orders quietly, but not at all softly. His voice reverberates through my chest. It feels like my insides are trembling as I keep my eyes unfocused to the wall in front of me as I turn around and walk out of the room. I’m careful not to brush arms or draw attention to myself as my heel clap on the expensive floors. They shine almost mirror-like, so pristine they shouldn’t even be walked on.

  Once I’m out of the main hall where the party ends, and his home begins, I stall. I make it to the fork in the hallway where I have to make a decision. I can turn left and run. Run far away and never come back. I might even make it out of here, much of the security is watching has their attention on the party. But I can’t leave Lilah, and I will never make it upstairs and then back out of here with a child. I’ll most definitely be stopped in that scenario. And without a doubt, Santiago would murder me this time. I can only test his patience so many times in my life.

  So, I turn to the right. Through the hall and up the grand staircase I go. I turn left, walking into the room that holds my nightmares. They’re trapped here like a closed casket. The room where Santiago took my virginity. The room where he taught me how to be submissive. The room where he hit me, slapped me, abused me, and made me wish I would die.

  I slip out of the beautiful dress that’s full of the evil from the night and set it aside. I step out of my panties, leaving me in only my heels. No bra with the dress I’m wearing.

  Getting on my knees, I get in the position that Santiago demands, and wait.

  6

  Ivy

  My eyes fly open and I see Santiago standing before me. I’m not sure what woke me. Whether it be the drop in the temperature from his icy cold demeanor, or his heavy stare, I’m not sure. I’m still in my same position. Poised on my knees, hands laced behind my back. I’ve learned well over time how to perfect this stance without wavering. I’ve spent hours upon hours kneeling in this position waiting for his next command.

  “Ivy” My name sounds rotten on his tongue.

  I say nothing, staring straight ahead and waiting. The icy chill in the room peaks my nipples.

  “You were quite foolish tonight, were you not?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I whisper.

  “Where in the world did you find the balls?” He walks up to me, running his finger down my cheek.

  I don’t answer him, because I’m not sure whether he even wants a response.

  I hear the wind whistle moments before I feel a fiery burn across my stomach.

  I can’t look down, but I imagine see a red welt crossing my entire stomach. From the corner of my eye, I can see him handling his black whip. It’s in no way sexual. Santiago does not do things sexually. He enjoys causing me pain. He likes to see me bruised and bloody. Then he likes to take what he wants from me as my tears cleanse him of his sins. Finally, I’m left empty, and he is full.

  “I don’t ever want to see you act out like that again. I do not care if your friend is disemboweled in front of your eyes. Disobey again, and I will take that precious child away from you for good.”

  “No.” I sob, unable to be tampered down. The thought of Lilah being taken away from me is gut wrenching.

  “Do not speak unless you are spoken to!” The words grind out between his clenched teeth as the whip lashes out again, this time striking my breasts. It feels so hot that I’m surprised blood isn’t sliding down my skin. I flinch and cry out internally but keep my poker face intact.
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br />   “I think someone needs a lesson in the rules, don’t you think?” He doesn’t expect a response this time, I’m certain of it. He strikes me over and over again until my body turns numb, the pain no longer affecting me. The only way I can still tell he’s whipping me by whirring of the whip slicing through the air. His strike is powerful, so powerful I listen to his occasional grunt with the force of his whipping.

  I listen as the whip clammers to the ground.

  He’s finished.

  The room smells of metal, and my body is damp. I’m not sure if it’s sweat or blood, probably a mixture of both. Santiago grunts as he bends down, grabbing my hair and whipping me over onto my stomach. I whimper, the pain making an entrance as I’m moved into a new position. I stare at the dark oak trim that lines the walls as I feel Santiago’s body drop behind me. He doesn’t care about prepping me. He spent his time prepping himself as he whipped me into pieces. He’s hard as a rock as he enters me, already throbbing and ready to release.

  He pounds into me, vicious and cruel with not a care for my wounds. He cares only about himself, chasing his own orgasm and the demons that follow him. It doesn’t take long. It never does when he whips me for as long as he has. His hand goes to the back of my head and he pushes down. My face smashes into the floor as he pounds into me at a brutal pace. My face mashes into the wood floor as he releases. My mouth opens in a silent cry against the floor. My teeth smash into my lip and shred the tender skin.

  I stay where I am even after he’s finished. His hot breath trails down my back and leaves me struggling to tamp down the disgusted shivers.

  It takes him a few moments, but he gets up and redresses, walking to the door before turning around. “Get dressed and go home. And don’t let me ever catch you acting out like that again, Ivy. It only takes a flick of my wrist to get you up on that stage.” He closes the door behind him, leaving me on the floor in a bloody heap.