They part like the red sea for Octavius.
Music spills outside when they open the doors, and Blaze’s hand lands on the small of my back, gently steering me forward.
I force my weak legs to move.
The hum of conversations grows louder with every step I take. The crowd inside is larger than I expected. More than a hundred men in dark suits, all nursing different drinks, cigar smoke hanging over small, round tables.
Everyone we pass greets Octavius and Blaze in a blur of never-ending hand-shakes. Their eyes linger on me more than I’d like and the weight of the knife against my thigh grows proportionately, my pulse pounding at the base of my skull.
Calm down. Breathe. You can do this.
Octavius gestures for me to follow. “Chin up, Leilani. Tonight, you’re allowed to smile. You can have a drink as well.”
How considerate.
I wouldn’t have guessed how grand this place is from outside. Nothing could be further from the abandoned night club turned make-shift auction house I’d assumed.
The walls are trimmed in gold, velvet curtains hang all around, the stage far back, illuminated by bright lights.
My stomach churns.
Koby warned me that sitting through girls my age being auctioned off, some proud, some trembling, wouldn’t be easy, but I assured him time and time again that I’d be fine.
Now I’m here, I’m not so confident.
How am I supposed to sit and watch when all I want to do is run backstage and set the girls free?
Blaze’s hand touches my elbow, guiding me toward the front. “Deep breaths,” he whispers in my ear. “You look like you’re about to faint.”
I straighten my spine, injecting as much fake confidence into my stance as possible. If things go well, this will be the very last auction. No more girls will be sold into sex slavery. At least not here.
We pass tables with neatly arranged auction paddles until we reach one at the front, directly opposite the stage.
Octavius unbuttons his suit jacket, taking a seat, then taps the chair on his right. “Here, Leilani. I want you close in case my brother calls. I sent him your picture.”
When the hell did he take my picture?
I grit my teeth, and sit, crossing my legs. Blaze sits too, just as the auctioneer, in a white tuxedo, steps onto the stage.
“Welcome to an evening of exclusivity and opportunity...”
I drown out his monologue, eyes darting to Octavius’s wristwatch. My body hums and my throat feels dryer than paper.
Doubt creeps in. Fear rises in my chest, threatening to choke me. It’s been about fourteen hours since I called Anton. Every second that ticks by brings him closer.
And Koby’s not here.
Blissfully unaware of his imminent demise, Octavius leans back, sipping whiskey, watching the show with a faint smirk. “Your events never disappoint, Noretto. Next month, there’ll be a special addition. Anton’s overseeing a delicate transfer tonight.”
Blaze’s fingers tighten on his glass, but his voice stays level. “I didn’t think you trusted anyone else with your merchandise.”
“I don’t,” Octavius says, swirling his drink. “But he’s eager to prove himself.”
Within minutes, the first girl steps onto the stage, shielding her eyes from the blinding spotlights. She can’t be much older than I am, but she doesn’t seem one bit concerned.
Koby told me most of them know what they’re signing up for. That they’re eager to earn money with their bodies.
I didn’t believe him. I thought he was trying to soothe me.
