I take a sip of the hot black coffee, letting it burn down my throat, looking around the room for possible signs of… anything.
The struggles of these people touch me. One man talks about how he almost lost his house because of his addiction to online poker, his voice a devastating croak, his hands clasped as though he’s praying.
“God help me, keep me away from this sickness…”
One lady sold her grandmother’s engagement ring.
One young man dropped out of college because he couldn’t stop hitting the slots.
Soon, it’s my turn. Lila smiles softly at me. “You don’thaveto share, sweetie.”
I clear my throat, feeling like a fraud. I’ve never been addicted to anything… except maybe Damian’s touch. It’s like when I went to collect my things after Julian drank himself into a stupor. I didn’t plan on sliding to the floor and taking him in my mouth, but it was like I couldn’t stop.
“My name is Celine, and I’m addicted to…” A man with a scar on his face and a war of dark and light shattering inside of him that no one else can see. “To, uh, slots.”
They all nod understandingly.
“It harms my life.” This has the potential to wreck my relationship with my brother, to throw an atom bomb into my family dynamics when Mom and Dad return and learn what I’ve done. “But the truth is, I don’t want to stop. It makes me feel too good. All my life, I’ve felt invisible to…” Men. “And I liked it that way, liked not being seen. But then I’ve found something thatmakes me feel special and…” Hot and sexy and clever. “And like I belong.”
I finish weakly, bowing my head, feeling like an idiot.
“Thank you for sharing,” Lila says. “Now, we’re going to take a short break…”
I excuse myself, saying I need to make a call, but when I’m alone in the corridor, I take a left instead of a right. I poke my head into empty rooms: a meeting room, an office of some sort, luckily empty, a storage room.
Something in the storage room makes me stop. There are shelves with cardboard boxes and a bunch of magazines on the floor… and a pair of underwear with kittens on it, hooked to one of the shelves. It’s so out of place. My heart hammers without me knowing exactly why. I study it for a long time, my mind swirling with sickening possibilities.
Something bad is happening here, right? Something so bad even the so-called Beast wants to bring it down?
Why would a pair of underwear with kittens on be here unless?—
I gasp when someone pushes me violently from behind. My head almost crushes into the shelves. I just about stop myself with my hands, then turn.
A man steps into the room, around my age, with a nick of a scar on his chin. He shuts the door behind him, doesn’t turn, just reaches back and closes it with his eyes never leaving me.
“What’re you doing in here?” he demands.
“Sorry. I was looking for the bathroom.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Bathroom is right outside the meeting room. Try again.”
“Oh, is it?” I say, trying to act innocent, hoping he can’t see the terror coursing through me like poison. “I didn’t realize.”
“Right,” he growls. “You didn’t realize.” He licks his lips, and glances around the small room. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
“Please, can I just?—”
He lifts his waistband, flashing his pistol at me. “You really shouldn’t have come here. I won’t question a good opportunity. I need you to be a good girl and stay where you are.”
He takes out his pistol, aiming it at me casually. My blood freezes in my veins. Panic tries to make me scream, but the consequences of screaming cause me to press my lips tightly together.
He kneels slowly, gun never leaving me, and brushes the magazines aside, revealing a trapdoor with a big metal loop handle. He unscrews something attached to the handle, then pulls it away without the door opening, and carefully lays it aside.
One-handed, he grips a smaller handle, then pulls.
I get déjà vu as I stare down a narrow staircase disappearing into darkness. It’s similar to the passageway Damian was keeping Rico in, except that something tells me these men don’t have a justification for what they’re doing.
“I’m going to make alotof money off you,” he says, standing and gesturing with the gun. “You need to get moving before I pull this trigger.”
