by K. L. Savage
“And you’ll lose it if you don’t start talking.” I hold my star up to the light and let it shine. Maximo’s reflection mirrors off the metal. His mouth is open, begging for mercy, begging for me to let him go because he can’t handle the pain anymore.
Footsteps sound at the door, and I see Reaper, Tool, Bullseye, Tongue, and Happy. And that crazy fucker is off his leash, opening his mouth in a deadly hiss when he smells blood.
“What the hell is that? What is that!” Maximo rocks back and forth to get the chair loose, but it’s pointless. It’s welded to the floor, and it isn’t going anywhere.
“That is the reptile that is going to eat you for dinner if you don’t start talking, and you better tell me everything, Maximo. Or I’m going to skin the flesh from your cock with the very tip of my ninja star. I’ll take my time. I’ll make sure every second is you in complete agony.” I yank the star from his dick, which was more in his groin, but the threat was close enough. “Do you take me seriously, yet? Do you understand? Moretti has already told us to do whatever we wanted to you, because even he doesn’t trust you. The man that can’t remember anything remembers how he feels about you. What’s that say?”
I yank his head back again so I can get a better look at his face in the light. His good eye is watering, and the star is stuck deep in his other eye. To drill in how serious I am, I pull it out, and his eyeball comes with it.
He screams until he pukes. I barely have enough time to get out of the way, so it doesn’t get on my boots. The eye is nearly sliced in two, the nerves red and dripping from the back, and the hole in his eye socket is about to become a home for gasoline. With two fingers, I pinch the eye and pluck it off my weapon. It’s squishier than I thought it would be.
“Have at it, Happy,” I say, tossing the gator the eye. He catches it quickly, snapping his jaws before he swallows it down.
“Good boy,” Tongue says, praising him as he pats him on the head.
“I promise I’ll feed you bit by bit to Happy, and then I’ll burn your goddamn bones, but not before I make you watch Happy eat your dick. Then, my Prez will rip your heart from your chest, and you’ll see it stop pumping. Happy will eat that too. I’m done fucking around, Maximo. Where is she!”
Silence.
This is so fucking frustrating. I hate silence.
I pick up the jug and start to pour gasoline over his body. I know it burns the open wounds, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything right now. I shove the nozzle between his lips, and he coughs from the fumes he inhales from the gasoline. “I’ll make you drink this. What is your role in this? What is her father’s plan? Why the hell were you at the barn? Where is she? What’s so special about today?”
He nods eagerly, wide brown eye dripping with tears while the abyss on the other side cries blood. I rip the nozzle from his lips and toss it to the side, then take the same star that blinded him and put it against his neck. “Talk,” I say.
“He’s a business partner. At first, it was just drugs. I didn’t want to get into anything else. When you’re in my line of work, it isn’t hard to figure out who is who. Everyone knows about the Preacher who doesn’t follow the bible, if you know what I mean. I heard he was looking for his daughter. I got a picture, and any information would have my network tripling. The fights would grow, money would grow, power. It’s all about the power,” he says, blood spraying from his lips when he speaks.
“I didn’t know she was an ol’ lady at first. When he came to the hotel, he saw Natalia, and he said until he got Mary, he would keep her. I met him at the barn, which is where all transactions, drug, human, and whatever else related goes down. He said there was going to be an auction. The last one of the year. Natalia would be in it if I didn’t comply, but then I started thinking, what’s the harm? Moretti doesn’t remember her anyway, and she’ll be alright. She’s a smart girl. She can get out of this—”
I stop him from talking by grabbing his shoulders and shaking them “—Where is the auction? What time does it start?” I remember Mason warning us that her father was going to do something like this.
“It’s at my hotel. Elevator, east side, takes you to a level no one has ever seen before.”
“What about the attack on the club a few months ago?” Reaper asks. “I knew it was fucking fishy that that college kid happened to shoot us up after working your club. That was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Maximo says. “I wanted to be on top. I wanted to be the one that controlled Vegas. I told you the truth, please, let me go. Please. I’m sorry.”
Reaper gets in Maximo’s face. “When we get back, I’m going to soak in your fucking soul, Maximo. You better count down the hours of your life as a free man.”
“Please. I’ll work for you. I’ll put all my men at your disposal. I’ll give you money. Anything. Please, just let me go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Save it,” Reaper snaps. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want your apology. I don’t want shit from you but your goddamn heart beating in my hands as I crush the life out of you.”
“Please, just let me go. I’ll do anything. I never meant for our alliance to end up like this.”
“You should have thought about that before you decided to fuck with the Ruthless Kings.”
We storm out of the playroom and lock the door.
Leaving him alive is hard, but there is no more time to waste.
I have to get to Mary before someone buys her.
They don’t even know that what they bid would never be enough.
She’s fucking priceless.
My energy is gone.
I’ve been starved, slapped, jerked-off on, but at least my dad hasn’t had sex with me.
That’s the one silver lining in all of this.
I told him I didn’t want to marry him, because maybe when someone buys me, they won’t be as cruel as he is. Maybe I’ll get lucky.
He’s kept me drugged with a tranquilizer to keep me in line over the last ten days. Not enough to knock me out, but enough to keep me loopy. I’ve taken a thousand pictures in lingerie. I’m sure they are posted on every website imaginable. My father even made a brochure, so when the buyers come in, they have something to reference while they hide behind tinted windows.
Right now, all of the women are in a room, shoulder to shoulder, shivering from the cold and shock of the situation. There are no windows, no fan; it’s a basic, plain room with four walls and a door we can’t go out of.
“Mary?” a familiar voice says from behind me.
I turn around and gasp when I see Natalia, Moretti’s daughter. She’s a little younger than me, and I can see the innocence in her red eyes and wet cheeks. “Natalia, what are you doing here?” This is the first time I’ve seen all the women. I didn’t know if I was going to be the only one or what, but of course, I’m not.
Men always think they can do whatever they want to us.
“My Uncle, Maximo. He gave me up,” Natalia cries.
I’m not surprised. Maximo has always rubbed me the wrong way.
“Everything is going to be okay.” I wrap my arms around her and bring her in for a tight hug. “They are going to find us, okay? They will.” I have to believe that, or I will be lost the moment I step out onto that stage. I’m wearing a sheer bra that crisscrosses in the front, black lace panties, and stockings. My hair is down, but I’ve been ordered to play with it and give the buyers a show.
Natalia is wearing a light blue teddy, a short sexy nightgown that showcases her small chest and flat stomach.
“Do I hear three million?” my father announces over the speaker that’s attached in the right corner of the room. “Sold!”
I almost expect to hear a slam of a gavel, but it’s quiet.
“Next up, we have a special guest,” he says, quickening the pace of my heart.
The door opens, and a man I’ve never seen before surveys the room. He’s tall and buff, reminding me of a bodybuilder, and his eyes fall on
me. He doesn’t ask; he doesn’t gesture for me to come to him; instead, he reaches out and snags me by my hair.
“No!” Natalia screams, trying to hold my hands to keep me from being dragged out the door. “No, Mary! Please, don’t do this,” she begs while the other women cry along the back wall, away from the door.
The guy still doesn’t say anything. The way he has my hair has my scalp burning. I reach up to grab his hands to take the pressure off, but he trips me with his big boot and proceeds to pull me across the floor.
The hallway turns into a long tunnel the further away I get from the room that holds a dozen women. The walls are grey, the floor is black, and it’s like I’m sliding along pools of ink. I’m waiting to sink into the ground. The tile is so spotless, so shiny, that as the light shines against it, I know it’s going to suck me under into the unknown.
My captor’s boots pound against the floor, loud drums that strike fear into my soul. When he comes to a stop, a door opens, and he throws me into the room. I roll to the middle, and the carpet leaves burns across my skin. I’m too afraid to get up.
But I do.
I push myself up onto my hands, then again to get to my feet. I’m surrounded by black glass. I can’t see what’s on the other side, but I have no doubt it is sleazy men in expensive suits debating if they want me.
Lifting my chin, I do my best to show I’m not scared of what will happen to me. My heart is ripped out, and I know my fate. Anything these men do to me will be nothing to the pain I already feel.
“Gentlemen.” My father’s voice is heard over the speaker again. “This lovely lady is named Mary St. James. She’s beautiful, feisty, and has hair you can grip for days while you pound into her from behind. She’s only ever been with one man, and that’s me. You’re going to want to get your hands on this one.”
I fling my hair over my shoulder and give every window the middle finger.
My father laughs over the intercom, and a red light flashes above one of the windows.
“Oh, we have a bet coming in already,” he whistles. “The betting is starting at 5 million. We can do better than that. You’ll never have a pussy like it. It’s tight, hot, and wet.”
The way my father talks about me makes me sick. I can barely stay on my own two feet, and he is lying to them.
He is not the only man I’ve ever been with, and I hate that I have twelve years of memories to prove he wasn’t a dream, but—shudder—experience.
Another red light goes off, then another from the left, one more to the right. It’s a light show, and they won’t stop flickering.
“Twelve million,” my dad’s voice lowers in a sexual hue. “Can I get fifteen?” But as soon as he asks the question, the glass to my right shatters from a gunshot. I scream in surprise, and through the glass I can hear shocked gasps and murmurs.
I glance up to see Knives there, holding the neck of a stranger, a star to his throat.
My heart leaps into my throat.
“Sold,” Knives says, slicing the blade across the man’s neck until he is bleeding out.
I flinch when another glass wall breaks from another bullet, and Slingshot is standing there. I’ve never seen him use his weapon besides to launch skittles, but when he does use it, it’s a sharpened rock that’s thrown. It hits the guy against the temple, and when he falls backward unconscious, Slingshot snaps his neck.
Another window breaks.
And another.
Then another.
All the Kings are there, their boots crunching against glass as they kill every single threat. Bullseye’s dart hits a man between the eyes, Tool shoves his screwdriver into a man’s throat, Tongue cuts out another villain’s tongue, then walks to every room to do the same to the others, and Reaper appears.
With my father in his clutches.
“Mary!” Knives drops down from the window, landing on his feet, and slowly standing like some sort of superhero. “You’re okay? Did he hurt you? Christ, he did. Look at your neck, Hellraiser—” He swings me into his arms and kisses me all over my face until our lips meet. “I was so goddamn worried about you.”
I suddenly realize I’m weeping. Big, heaving sobs rack my body. But he is here. He rescued me. He is keeping me safe. Knives’ strong, muscular arms hold me tight, and I am able to calm down and lose myself in his grip again.
I finally gather the strength to open my eyes and look at him. He looks horrible. His hair has grown out, his beard is longer and scraggly, which is not like him, and he has dark circles under his eyes.
“My dad liked to use his belt on my neck every day and masturbate until he got off.”
“Did he…”
I glance away, ashamed, but shake my head. “He only jacked off on me after watching me struggle against his belt,” I say, lifting my fingers to my black and blue neck.
“Only?” Knives growls. “Only?”
“What do you want to do?” Reaper says. “A quick death is too easy.”
My father is shaking. “No, no, wait! Wait! I have money. I have a lot of money. Mary, you won’t let them do this to me, right? You love me. You love me!”
“I hate you!” I don’t know what comes over me, but I steal Knives’ star, which is the one he gave me, his original one. The one he made when he was just fifteen. He must have found my jacket in the chaos of all this. Before I move another inch, Knives throws his jacket over me, and I make my way to Reaper.
But I can’t get up there.
Reaper grins, then pushes my father down. He hits the ground, lands on his back, and groans. Knives steps on his arms and Reaper jumps down, landing on his legs. One breaks from the force, and my father exhales a wail of pain.
“I hate you so much, it physically aches my bones,” I tell him as I straddle his stomach. “You want to kiss me?” I pinch his lips together with tears burning my eyes and, with the star, start slicing his lips off. I toss them to the side until all I see are teeth and gums.
Tongue laughs, giddy and excited to add to his collection.
“You stole my innocence. You raped me.” I slide back, unzip his pants, and squeeze his pathetic cock until I know it hurts.
“Please,” he cries. “Don’t.” The words are hard to hear, since he has no lips to speak with.
“You never listened to me! You never stopped! Twelve years!” Hot, fat tears drip down my cheeks. I yank his pants down and use the serrated edge of the star to cut his dick off. My father screams in agony, and it is the most cathartic sound I have ever heard in my life. I throw the inches to Tongue, but he ignores it.
“I want Happy to eat it! I want nothing left of my father, you hear me? Nothing!” I scream, then with bloody hands, I stab him right in the heart, a tear falling from my chin to his exposed mouth. “You wanted me to love you. You sick, twisted bastard.”
“I’ll take it from here,” Reaper tells me gently, and Knives grabs my shoulders to steer me away.
“I want him so far gone, Reaper. I want him erased from the planet.” My entire body is shaking uncontrollably, and when I glance down at my hands, all I see is blood.
“You got it, Mary,” Reaper says, using the star embedded in the Preacher’s chest as he cuts to rips his heart out. “May the Devil chew you up and spit you out, and may God have no mercy on your soul.”
Knives turns me away, and my father’s screams sound eerily familiar to mine over the years. We walk out the door that I came in from, and the bodyguard that brought me to the stage is there, aiming a gun right in the middle of Knives’ chest.
I guess this is it. This is where I die to save Knives. It was worth it.
I do the only thing that enters my mind. I jump in front of him to take the bullet as the barrel rings release, but nothing ever comes.
I finally open my eyes to see Mason jumping in front of us, taking the shot in the chest. A gun in his own hand, he aims it at the guard and fires.
The guard falls to the floor in a useless giant heap when the bullet catches between h
is eyes.
“Mason! Mason, no. No!” Knives drops to the ground next to his brother, and I do the same, taking Mason’s hand in mine. “I just got you back. I was supposed to work out my feelings. You can’t… no,” Knives is full of denial as he presses his hand against the bloody wound on Mason’s chest. “We were supposed to be brothers again. What were you thinking taking a bullet for me, again?” Knives lifts Mason’s head onto his lap. “You’re going to be fine. You’ll be okay.”
“I wanted you to have the life you always deserved. It was me or Mary,” he wheezes, a hint of blood foaming his mouth. “It had to be me. You were right—” he coughs roughly, struggling to gain his breath, “—I shouldn’t have left you alone. I should have found you. Consider this—” he coughs again, “—taking responsibility.”
“You saved her for me,” Knives cries. “Thank you.”
“I never stopped having your six, Knives.”
“Thomas. Call me Thomas.”
Mason grins, his face white as death and sweat dripping down his temples. “Thomas. My brother.”
“Your brother,” Knives says. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Mason. You can go. I’ll be okay. Thanks to you, I’ll always be okay.”
Mason locks eyes with me, another weak grin on his lips, and his hand falls on top of Knives’ that is pressing against his chest. And then his chest deflates as he exhales his very last breath.
“No,” Knives clutches his brother against him, hugging his dead body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispers.
The guys from the other room pile in. Reaper is soaked in blood, but he kneels down next to Knives and uncurls his fingers from Mason’s shirt. “It’s time to let go, Knives. We have to get out of here. We will bring him with us and have a proper burial.”
“Let go?” Knives asks with red eyes.
“Let go,” Reaper affirms.
“I’m not good at that,” Knives replies, holding out his arm for me. “I’m not good at letting go at all.”
