Asher needs to fucking die again.
I drag the tablet closer as the announcer says, “Bidding for a six-month term will begin in five, four, three, two one.”
Six fucking months.
I look at the boy, my beautiful boy’s friend. He slowly closes his eyes at the length of time one of these sick fucks will force him to do whatever the fuck they want. Then the six-figure initial bid flashes on the device.
I don’t have enough.
I can’t help him without sacrificing Delilah.
There’s no emotion on his face when he opens his eyes, lifting his chin. He’s older than Kid, he’ll be fine. I’ll find him another time, follow the fucker who bids on him or something. Anything.
I’m too far away from the other tables to know who wins when the silent bidding comes to an end. There’s no announcement to say who it is. No one reacts either; they simply continue sipping their cocktails.
Jasper’s box is lowered, another slowly raising with another announcement. “The next category is Grey.”
The girl can’t be much younger than Jasper, but she doesn’t blankly turn. Her inky-blue eyes are filled with hate as she squares her shoulders, meeting every pair of eyes looking at her. Sasha nearly drags me out of my seat as she tugs on my sleeve to whisper into my ear, “I like her. She seems fun.”
Of course she does. I’m as fucked up as her when I softly ask, “Do you want me to buy you a friend?”
She pinches my thigh, muttering, “Shut up.”
“Love you too,” I whisper without moving my lips.
We stop talking shit when the box is lowered and the announcer robotically says, “The final category of this round is Black, with a reduced damage rate.”
I try to remember the categories from the tablet at the bar but the black one didn’t have any details beneath it. When the box is pulled through the notch in the floor, my heart soars, only tosink. There in the box is my Delilah. Her wrists and ankles are in chains as she stands in the highest fucking heels I’ve ever seen, tears reddening her cheeks. She stumbles forward, teetering on the thin points of the heels as the thick cuff around her neck is automatically released. She’s scarred, eyes sunken in, collarbone protruding. As she slowly turns her head, I notice the cut on her fucking her face. Her cheek is swelling.
It’s Sasha who notices the biggest issue. “She’s on drugs. Look at the inside of her arm.”
Delilah slowly turns in a circle, dazed at the harsh lights as the thin cotton dress becomes opaque. There, on the inside of her fucking elbows, are track marks. Both of her arms are covered in deep purple bruises.
“Looks like she listened to you,”Asher says.“I’m surprised you don’t have tracks considering how many trains have been run on you.”
“Bidding for a twelve-month term will begin in five, four, three, two, one.”
The tablets on every table light up and I quickly press the bid button without looking at the amount. No sadistic little cunt is getting their filthy fucking hands on my wife. I’m going to turn her ass red for putting that shit in her body.
“How long ago did you snort a line behind Sasha’s back?”
Fuck off,I mentally snap back.That’s medicinal, since I’m missing half my fucking arm.
The sound of my finger hitting the glass screen of the tablet is the only thing I can hear as Sasha pretends to cuddle up to me. “Everyone is looking. Move slower.”
“Don’t worry, little one.” I kiss the top of her head. “I’ll let you practice on her.”
“That worked,” she whispers into my bicep.
Keeping Delilah in my periphery, I leave my lips on Sasha’s hair, so she fits the image of my pet. The nutcase is intelligent as fuck as she says, “You have to act like you want to hurt her.”
“That won’t be a problem.” I’m going to throttle her as soon as I get my hands on her. Then kiss her, because I haven’t in three years. Then throttle her again. We’ll keep alternating between me cutting off her air with my hands and mouth until I’m the only toxic shit she needs in her life.
“Are you jealous of her taking drugs because it’s something else controlling her?”Asher laughs.“You really are jealous. No wonder it was so easy to convince a jury to unanimously agree you killed me.”
Sasha nips my inner bicep, the twinge carrying through my arm, below the cut, and down to my left hand. “It’s finished.” She widens her eyes at the tablet while I stop breathing, waiting to find out if I’ve successfully bought my wife back.
It takes a moment for the screen to change from the timer showing the bidding window is over. Then the message slowly scatters to reveal the outcome.
