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Benjamin flashes me a sad smile from the floor of his cage. Legs splayed out, he crosses his arms, resting his chin on his chest. It's the only form of resistance he has, refusing the rise for the man who might be here to break him. I always admired his dissent. I wish I had more of whatever flows through his veins—confidence or fortitude or...whatever it is. Despair hammers at my shoulders, weighing me down even further. Benjamin might act like nothing can touch him, but deep down, he's just as scared as the rest of us.
Dante's grand scheme will only end in his death. If I'm standing next to him, I'll be killed too. Maybe it would be better that way. Then I wouldn't have to live in fear, or deal with the guilt eating away at me for not doing more.
"Why are you doing this?" Dante hisses.
The urge to jab him in the stomach with my elbow is ridiculously hard to resist. If he keeps up the commentary, someone is going to hear him. By the look on Benjamin's face, he already has. There's no love lost between him and the guards, so hopefully he'll keep his mouth shut.
I nod to the guard who wanders closer. He eyes me up and down, and I tip my chin up. I haven't met him before, but he has a sadistic gleam to him, almost an oily quality coating the entirety of his existence.
Usually, the handlers have batons to keep the victims in line. Apparently, that wasn't good enough for this one. A Taser hangs from his belt, a whip fisted tight in his grip. It explains the lashes I saw on Ingrid while she was showering.
Glancing at Rachel, she shakes her head subtly, and I track my gaze toward Ingrid's bed in the tent at the end of the row. It's empty, blood speckling the bare mattress. I'm not surprised, and my heart clenches, breath stalling in my lungs. I pinch my leg, using the pain to ground myself to the present so I don't lose it.
Turning to face the back of the room, I sweep my hand out. "There are several others you can indulge in. These are set for the Auction, but I'm sure Jenkins would allow you to peruse the selection for the right price."
Biting my tongue, I fix my eyes on the far wall. The cages in the back are nicer, better equipped with luxuries the men aren't afforded. The people meant for the Auction are considered elite, bordering on priceless. That's not entirely accurate since they're literally sold to the highest bidder. Men who have more money than they know what to do with flock to the Auctions the Guild sets up. Most of the time it's men, though I guess a few women attend too. Vileness knows no gender.
"Tell me what to do to get out of this hellhole," Dante murmurs as he grips my hip, pressing his body into my back.
"If you don't pick one..." I don't know how to finish the sentence.
I can't tell him he'll be stuck with me. I don't know if Jenkins will decide I'm not worthy of Dante's "affections" and punish me for it. Even if Dante does choose someone else, I'll most likely be blamed for it.
I also can't tell him he'll be exiled from the Guild. That would be the typical route, but nothing Jenkins has done with Dante has been normal. I also won't say anything about how much it will hurt if he chooses another. Helping him isn't an option for me, but that doesn't mean I want him to throw me away like used trash.
I straighten my spine and shake my head. I've known this man all of three days. Actually, I have no idea how much time has passed since he waltzed into my life and attempted to turn it upside down.
"Will they be hurt if I refuse?"
I lean into him the slightest bit, not able to help myself. "They'll be hurt either way, Dante."
"What's this? Did Mistress finally get pawned off? Not surprised he's throwing you aside so soon," Rachel cackles.
Dante sucks in a deep breath, fingers digging into my hip. Carefully, I shake my head, hoping he doesn't fuck this up. His hand drops, and I step between him and Rachel.
"Trade or snuffed?" I call and the other women shrink back. Inquiring about Ingrid is the only way I can think to distract Rachel.
Rachel's eyebrow pops up, and she eyes Dante. "Trade, though it was close."
I don't know which is better. Being sold in the Trade at least allows them the opportunity to escape. Dying would free them from this hell, though.
I'm surprised Rachel is telling me anything at all. Jenkins played us against each other by making me select women for him. He made sure we wouldn't join forces. The people trapped here outnumber the ones who rule. If we ever banded together, the Guild would be fucked. Keeping us at each other's throats is only one tactic they employ to keep that from happening. Jenkins uses fear as his ultimate weapon.
"So, who are you going to ruin this time, Mistress?" Rachel asks, lip curling in disgust.
"Let's go," Dante growls, gripping my wrist and tugging me toward the stairs.
Rachel starts cackling, yelling random insults at my back until Benjamin tells her to knock it off. When Dante and I reach the shadows, his hand lands on my lower back, guiding me up the stairs. His touch is gentle, always so gentle, like I'm made of glass. I both loathe and crave his touch. Mostly, I dread the moment he's gone. It's a dangerous position to be in.
Halfway up the stairs, he grips my shirt, and I stop. I gasp when he slips in front of me, pinning me to the wall. He drops his head, breathing me in, and I press my lips together.
"I need to know what the hell is going on," he murmurs, his lips brushing my skin.
"Jenkins wants you to prove your loyalty to the Guild. Focusing on one bit isn't usually done. What are you doing?"
His breath ghosts across my ear, and he whispers, "I don't want anyone to overhear us."
I swallow hard and his hand caresses my hip. "You have to choose someone. Rachel would be best. She's been here a long time and might help you."
