“Holy hell. This place is divine.” I trail my finger along the marble countertop, and when my eyes latch onto my reflection in the mirror, I feel like someone is squeezing the air from my lungs. My breath stutters as I try to retract the sob threatening to explode from inside me.
I look dreadful, as if I’ve been in some sort of accident or lost somewhere for days on end. My mind scrambles trying to figure out what day we’re on, but it comes up blank.
I genuinely have no clue.
My icy-blonde hair is caked in dirt and grease. There are black circles under my eyes, coupled with the whites of my eyes being red from crying over the abuse I’ve suffered. My skin is pale and missing the healthy glow I normallywear, and my lip is swollen and split, with dried blood around it, making it appear worse than it is.
Glancing down, I see the shirt is coated in blood, and I have the need to tear it from my body. I don’t want it touching me. Don’t want them touching me.
“Ugh. Get it off, get it off!” I scream into the room as I rip at the buttons, and only when I’m standing there naked with the material pooling at my feet do I stop to breathe.
In the blink of an eye, my world as I know it has changed, and in its place, I’ve become a little toy in a gilded cage.
Chapter Nine
Azrael
Jensen is waiting in my office when I arrive, and I already have a buzz of adrenaline running through my veins to get back to the girl upstairs.
I’ve never felt this excitement before in my life. Something inside me calls to her; she’s completely different to all others, and I want to keep her.
Jensen turns to face me, but I ignore his presence and head straight for the Scotch. I pour myself a healthy glass of the amber liquid, knowing full well Jensen already has one. Then I drop into the leather chair with a heavy sigh; I know I won’t like whatever it is he’s about to say.
He waits for me to take a swig of the drink before opening his mouth, and I’m grateful for it. I sure as shit need it after the night I’ve had.
“I found a girl at the auction.” He blows out a deep breath.
This is to be expected, so I know damn well there’s more to it.
“She was young, Azrael.”
My blood turns to ice as he stares at me, his eyes drilling into me.
“How young?” Not that it truly matters. Anyone below the age of eighteen is an issue for me. Although I insist on all the women being above twenty-one to work at the clubs and to serve me.
“Barely a teenager, though she looks younger.”
My insides twist.“Fuck,” I seethe.
This is what I’ve been concerned about. There have been rumblings about my father and his associates debating whether to begin trafficking children as well as adults. While we are relatively flying under the radar, dealing in the adult skin trade, the prospect of throwing children in the mix is deeply concerning. It’s going to raise more awareness of our endeavors, and quite frankly, I draw the line at dealing with children. As a child who was abused abhorrently and witnessed the agony and trauma of child abuse, I take fucking issue with it. Still, trying to insert that into an already twisted lifestyle is almost impossible, especially when the likes of Vector are whispering in my father’s ear in encouragement.
Our half-brother, Stone, received sickening torture as a teenager, and that’s something that has stayed with both Czar and me. I refuse to accept more of it.
“Was she hurt?” I choke out, still in shock at the fact that a minor was on the premises, and it appears my father has taken my concerns out of the equation altogether. Taken me out of the equation.
What the hell is my father thinking? This was not part of any agreement; the bastard has taken this on himself. I’m unsure what’s more concerning: the knowledge of his actions or the fact that he’s preparing to go even deeper thanever before and I have no control over it and the filth he associates with.
We already have enemies; this is only going to make us more of a target.
Jensen can read between my words; we both know she was more than likely harmed at some point, but sexual abuse is another layer of harm.
“She was.”
“Fuck!” I throw myself back in my chair and drag a hand down my face. “He’s becoming worse,” I grunt out. “Is that even possible?” I ask, but don’t expect a response because we know the answer already.
Still, he gives it to me anyway. “He is,” he agrees. “What the fuck are we going to do, Azrael?”
I stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t know,” I admit, though I hate to do it.
