“Fuck you.” The words come out before I can stop them and I wince, expecting someone to slap me. But all I get are a couple of chuckles. A large hand palms my ass and squeezes. I hiss through my teeth and swing sideways, but no one is there and I stumble. Again, they laugh.
“She’s got fight in her.”
“Don’t underestimate the bitch. Just get her upstairs before she causes trouble,” Augustin instructs.
The man with calloused hands drags me forward while someone else shoves my shoulder from behind. I scream and scream, straining my voice, hoping someone will hear me and help. But nothing comes out, and no one helps. Instead, those around me just laugh more. Raw sobs wrack my body. I’m shaking like a leaf. With every second that passes, panic continues to consume every cell of my body.
If I want to live, I’m going to have to fight back.
I swing my leg at an angle, and connect with someone. The solid mass hurts my toes but I kick again. And again.
Someone jerks my head back by my hair. “Cunt, you better knock it off.”
Augustin.
“Go to hell, Augustin. I hope you fucking die.” Each word I spit out at him contains as much venom as I can muster.
“Oh, Annie. With what’s going to happen to you, that wish is something you should be making for yourself. Death would be far preferable to the future waiting for you after tonight.”
I shiver at the icy venom in his voice. He means every word he’s saying. For the millionth time since they threw me into the back of that van, I wonder why this is happening to me. Who are these people?
“Ain’t that right? With those lips, who wouldn’t want to fuck her mouth?” the man with the baritone voice says.
“She’ll probably earn a pretty penny. Especially from some of the customers who like a feisty girl they can smack around,” another man says.
Oh God.
Auction.
I’m up for auction. This is a sex-trafficking auction. I’ve heard of this before, but I never really believed it existed. Just trumped-up housewife gossip, or so I thought. But if I’m right, then Augustin is right. Death would be kinder.
I go limp again. This can’t be happening. This kind of stuff isn’t real ... is it?
“Pick up your feet.” Augustin’s voice is threatening. I do as he says.
The climb up the staircase is more difficult than it should be and I’m not sure if that’s because of the lingering effects of the alcohol or the adrenaline coursing through my body. Maybe it’s both, but my legs are shaky and barely support my weight. After a few more steps, someone shoves me from behind and I fall to my knees before being hoisted up again.
“Shoulda kept her on all fours. Hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve seen all night,” one of the men says, and my stomach curls in disgust.
“Your balls on a serving tray would make my night,” I growl. The alcohol is definitely fueling my loose lips. I’ve never spoken like this before. I’ve never been this angry or afraid before, either.
In response, someone slaps me on the back of the head. Head spinning, I’m hoisted up and placed back on my feet. My heels slip a little; the new surface is slick. Something leathery wraps around my neck, too tight to be comfortable, and I squirm to get away. But it’s no use. Metal clicks around my wrist and cuts into my skin. I yank to try to free myself only to hear the clank of metal on metal.
A collar and handcuffs.
I hear the murmurs and shuffling of a crowd. Then, whatever material Augustin used to obstruct my vision is unceremoniously ripped off my head and I’m left staring at a room full of men and woman.
Augustin is off to my right. Now that I can see him, I sneer in his direction as I tug against the handcuffs. My head swivels around the room as I take stock of my surroundings. I’m up on a stage, surrounded by other women who are also restrained to their own poles. The dim lights create a seductive but terrifying atmosphere, and my eyes go wide as I face the crowd again.
A man gets on stage, microphone in hand. “Ladies and gentlemen, here are the lovely ladies up for auction tonight. Enjoy, and happy bidding.”
The crowd breaks into hoots and hollers and applause.
My heart thunders in my chest as if attempting to break free from its bony cage. My breathing becomes shallow as I gasp for oxygen. All I have are questions.
Where am I? How the hell do I get out of here?
And what is about to happen next?
Chapter Four
Nikita
I lean back in the chair as my gaze lingers on the brunette giving my men a hard time. The corner of my lip curls up into a slight grin when she tries to kick Augustin. She’s a fighter, and although she looks like a deer caught in headlights, she also appears to be a deer ready to take on said automobile. She’s unlike the other girls on stage, or the ones that were already sold in the first batch a half hour ago.
The previous group was the usual trash—addicts, desperate runaways. Boring, boring, boring. Nothing I would want close to my finger, let alone my dick. I had one of my lieutenants dispose of a girl because of the way her eyes rolled up into her head. I can’t make money on someone who might die five minutes after she’s been sold. And I couldn’t exactly let her traipse out of here. Who knows where she’d go running off to, blabbing about things she should never have known?
My attention focuses back on the beautiful girl on stage. Her legs have some meat, yet remain thin with a slight muscular undertone. Probably a runner. My gaze travels up the length of her body to her breasts. Perky, full. A perfect mouthful. Her olive skin is clear
