The auctioneer clears his throat. "Mr. Torrino, while we appreciate your enthusiasm, we have protocols?—"
"And I have money." I cut him off. "Half a million. Right now."
A murmur runs through the crowd. The current high bid was only sitting at three hundred thou.
“Five hundred thousand?” the auctioneer repeats, clearly caught off guard.
"That's my offer."
His eyes dart around the room to the other interested parties. "The bid stands at five hundred thousand dollars. Do I hear five-twenty-five?"
The room is silent. No one counters.
"Sold to Mr. Vincent Torrino for five hundred thousand dollars."
Relief floods through me, quickly replaced by a new concern—getting Kayla out safely. We're surrounded by armed men in an underground bunker with limited exits. And I don't have half a million dollars.
"I assume you have the funds on hand?" the auctioneer inquires.
I reach inside my jacket’s inner pocket and withdraw a black rectangle of plastic. "This should cover it."
I hope.
We've had Cypher, a literal tech genius and one of the brothers from the Shadow Reapers, here working with the Renegde Kings for a few weeks. He set up everything Vincent Torrrino might need, including an Amex Centurian card with no limit. Cypher's an odd guy, but let's hope he's as good as his reputation claims, or I'm a goner.
One of the suits approaches, takes the card from me, and heads through the door I had thought was the staircase. Severallong minutes of silence follow, while all eyes are on Kayla and me.
When the suit returns, he simply nods once to the auctioneer.
"Excellent." The auctioneer smiles. "Scarlett will escort you and your purchase to a private suite to complete the transaction."
Scarlett tugs on the leash, but I reach out and snatch it from her hand. "That won't be necessary. We'll be leaving now."
Her red lips thin to a hard line. "Our clients typically prefer to sample their purchases immediately."
"I prefer privacy," I counter. "My own space. My own rules."
For a moment, I think she might argue, but then she forces a smile. "As you wish, Mr. Torrino."
I wrap my arm around Kayla, tucking her trembling body against my side. Her skin is ice cold beneath my jacket.
"It's okay," I whisper against her hair. "I'm getting you out of here."
She nods almost imperceptibly, pressing closer to me.
Scarlett leads us through the door and down a different corridor to a small office. Inside, Alonso waits with a folder of paperwork.
"Congratulations on your acquisition," he says with a snake's smile. "Just a few formalities to complete the transfer of ownership."
Ownership. Like Kayla's a fucking car or piece of real estate. Results of her medical exam.
I take the folder from him, keeping my expression neutral despite the rage boiling inside me. I remind myself that in playing along with their sick game, I’m also securing Kayla's freedom.
"One last thing," Alonso slides a small box across the desk. "The key to her collar. Consider it a gift."
I pocket the box without comment.
"Is there anything else?" I ask, keeping my tone bored, impatient.
