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"As if you need protection," I mutter.He grins again, and I shove his head away. "I'm leaving now. And I won't bitch about Jag."
I walk out, leaving him on the floor of the closet. Taking a deep breath, I inch open the door, scanning the area around the guard’s massive frame. Panic floods my body, then he steps to the side and my heart calms. Every door I've opened in the last few days, I've had the same reaction. I wish I could stop my body from reacting to an unknown threat. I doubt it'll be anytime soon.
"You ready, Jug?"
His nostrils flare, black hair poking from his nose. It matches his beard and hair, giving him a dark and mysterious look. Honestly, he looks like a biker. I wouldn't put it past Dante to hire one. He seems like the kind of guy to have those connections. Every time Jenkins talks about him not being one of those types of men, Dante's shoulders tense.
"It's Jag. As in Jaguar, ma'am."
"You can't call me ma'am. You're not allowed to treat me with respect at all. You're better off just pretending I don't exist. And for the love of all that is fucking holy, do not respond to them," I whisper as I close the door softly, cutting off Dante's laughter. I didn't realize he was listening. Bastard.
"Heard. But I ain't gonna let you get hurt. So don't put yourself in danger and we'll get along swimmingly," he mutters from the corner of his mouth.
"Honey, this is hell. Danger lives in the walls, stalks through the hallways, and floats in the air. Hard to get away from it."
"Dante didn't say you were sassy."
"Well, I just screamed at someone for the first time in ten years. That might have something to do with it," I grumble, leading him down the back staircase.
The man guarding the door to the Pit widens his eyes as I approach. Whatever he's trying to convey isn't computing, but combined with what Dante said, I'm starting to worry. It's not often I'm included in the gossip. There aren’t a lot of tidbits, anyway. In a place like this, it's usually reserved to which guards to stay away from and how to disassociate. Not exactly fun water cooler talk.
"Ah, Mistress. How lovely of you to come see us lowly individuals in the Pit. How is it living with a new master?" Rachel calls as soon as we descend from the stairs.
Jag snorts behind me and I consider throwing an elbow into his stomach, but think better of it. I stop in front of Rachel and tilt my head.
"It's summer."
Her lips press together in a thin line. I don't know how long it's been since she's seen the sun, but it always has been a sore spot. I hate antagonizing her, but we need a public show before the private conversation.
"How lovely. I bet all your tea parties are fraught with gnats."
I straighten, losing the smirk. Glancing around, I find most of the cages full, a mass of men crowded within. Women spill out from the makeshift rooms to my right, eyeing me. There are too many people. At five in the morning, this place should be almost empty, the others working various events on the upper levels.
"Inspection," I bark out, and my voice carries through the cavernous space.
People scramble, getting into position. A guard sidles up next to me and Jag tenses at my back. I didn't even realize he'd gotten so close, and I kick myself for not paying attention.
"Mistress, you're not allowed to call for inspection," Kirk mutters.
"Take it up with Jenkins then," I say loudly.
They won't. None of the guards go to Jenkins. If anything, they'll go to Grant, but he's been missing since Dante found me, at least from my sphere.
It hits me how much power I have, at least down here. The others will listen to me, even if they're dicks about it. The guards won't question my authority, not enough anyway. This is what Dante was talking about. Not infiltrating the servers or bankrupting the Guild. The power I hold has nothing to do with my position in Jenkins's office. It's here in the Pit.
Meeting Rachel's eyes, I try to show her what I've realized. I don't know what my face is doing, but she smirks. I nod once, then stride forward. Rachel falls into step next to me as Jag trails us.
I go to the cages first, searching for a familiar face. Most avoid my gaze, picking at their tattered clothes. I'd rather not dismiss them, but they can't help me. There must be at least fifty behind the bars, stuffed inside with barely enough room to sit, much less lie down. Not that most of them are probably sleeping these days.
Benjamin leans against his prison, arms hanging through the bars. A guard steps up, raising a small bat, but I wave him off. Some of the light has died in the man's blue eyes, leaving only a sliver behind. Usually, he has a snarky word for Rachel, but he doesn't even look at her.
"Not surprised you're still here," I sneer, tracking the guard as he moves away.
"Not for long, it seems," he says, and I raise an eyebrow. "Double or nothing."
I flinch, horror flooding me. Rachel's elbow digs into my side, and I struggle to control my face. Nodding, I wander away, the gears in my head turning.
We've never had an Auction twice in one year. The logistics alone are too hard to handle. The manpower, both to run such an event as well as getting enough cattle for the slaughter, was always something Jenkins didn't want to take on. I have to talk to Dante. He won’t be able to do much, but he should be warned of what’s coming.
