The Ball
Atlas
We parked among the rows of polished cars; valets guided guests toward the entrance. From the outside, the mansion gleamed like a palace. From the inside, I could already hear it…the uproar. Classical music escaped the walls. It wasn't too loud, but loud enough. Men laughing and jeering. The sound of women crying under it all.
"Remember," Jacob muttered as we stepped out. "Keep your cool, no matter what you see."
I pulled my mask lower, black and red angles hiding my face. "You have nothing to worry about. I didn't come this far to get us allkilled."
Two guards barely glanced at our invitations before waving us in. No one patted us down; we just walked right past the guards standing at the entrance. The doors opened, and the sight hit me like a bullet to the chest.
The room was in chaos.
Masked men in tuxedos gathered near the stage, voices raised, loud laughter….hands everywhere.
On the platform under the chandeliers, the girls stood in line—white Roman slips half torn, bare breasts and shoulders glistening under the lights. They were being clawed, poked, and pawed as if they were animals at an auction.
I couldn't see where Kitten was because there were so many bodies surrounding the stage where the girls were on display. I scanned the room, taking in my surroundings, then turned my attention back to the laughter, whistles and jeers.
Jacob stayed right by my side as we moved closer to the commotion. The men in here were animals. Girls were crying and trying to pull away, but they couldn't go far because there were multiple guards throughout the area.
The orchestra still played classical music while women were being raped and forced to do unimaginable things with these masked monsters.
I continued looking for Kit. It didn't take me long to spot her. I moved in closer with Jacob right on my tail. It took all I had not to lose my fucking mind as I watched multiple men touch what's mine.
Her dress hung off her shoulders, skin marked red where greedy hands had mauled her. Her face was blank;her eyes glassy. Disassociated. I knew that look. My Kitten had gone somewhere else just to survive this horrific nightmare.
Something inside me snapped.
I moved even closer, my hand already twitching toward the gun hidden beneath my jacket.
"Atlas." Jacob's grip clamped hard on my arm, holding me back. His voice was a low growl behind his mask.
"Not yet. Don't blow this."
I shook him off, my chest heaving.
"They're fucking touching her. She belongs to me."
"I know." His tone cut like steel. "That's why you can't be the one to pick her. Hector would smell it all over you, and you'd lose your shit anyway. I'll take Kit. You take Becca. We keep the cover intact. Once we get them out, then you can shoot every bastard in this room."
Rage burned through me, but he was right. I couldn't save Kitlyn by exposing myself too soon. I forced my fists to unclench, and my breath to steady.
Hector appeared at the edge of the stage, arms spread wide, mask gleaming. "Gentlemen! My treasures for your pleasures. Rare. Exquisite. Priceless. Anyone interested in any of these precious trinkets?"
Jacob stepped forward first, slipping into character. His voice was smooth and calculated.
He fit right in with this crowd.
"That one," he said, nodding toward Kitlyn.
"The green-eyed girl."
Hector's head tilted, a smug grin curling his lips.
"Ah, my favorite. Very special. She has a lot of spirit, and she can take a beating." She doesn't come cheap. Seven hundred thousand firm."
Jacob hummed, pretending to weigh the words.
