Complete darkness.
A loud staccato of anarchy laced with poison decree.
“Here we go,” I heard Sully whisper to my right. “The shit nightmares are made of.”
God, he had no idea.
As the canes smashed against the floor, members of the Order lit the candelabras flanking the room revealing a single file of women standing before us. Just like the first night we chose the belles, Grace stood in line searching the room until her eyes locked with mine.
Her green, with my blue, we would fight the black together. Our eyes would not break just as our bodies, minds and souls would also remain intact.
Stay strong, Grace.
Stay strong.
“Gentlemen of The Order of the Silver Ghost,” an Elder called out as he took a step forward. “Tonight, is an auction of the belles.”
All the Elders struck the floor with their cane to punctuate his statement.
“Only members of the Order may bid on the belles,” the Elder said. “One night. One belle. Highest bid. When the clock strikes twelve, the belle is no longer yours. Let’s begin.”
No… no… fuck no…
My gut painfully squeezed my inner organs, and bile formed in the back of my throat. I’d had a feeling it would be the auction as the Invitation event tonight. It hadn’t occurred yet, and auctions were a favorite pastime of this group.
I had tried to prepare for this. I had even tried to prepare Grace for this possibility as we readied ourselves earlier today.
But to actually hear the words. To stand and watch and not be able to bid on what was mine… mine… fuck no.
“Oh shame. You mean we can’t be sick pricks tonight, buy a belle, and fuck her before we all turn into pumpkins at the stroke of twelve?” Sully mumbled. His sarcasm was not lost on me.
My ears rang, and the room spun as I watched the belles before Grace be bid upon and then taken away to a guest room, or to a platform for all to watch as they were fucked as a prize. When it was Grace’s turn to be auctioned off, I nearly charged where she stood to swoop her away and to tell all these assholes to go fuck themselves.
But we had a plan. A goal.
We couldn’t mess it up now when we were so close. All our hard work would be for nothing. All this time would be lost. I needed to remember why I agreed to do this in the first place.
Focus on the plan. Focus, focus, focus.
It didn’t surprise me when my father was the first to bid on Grace. Of course the fucker would. But I was also happy to see that Mr. St. Claire was outbidding my father each time. A bidding war had begun.
“Jesus Christ,” Walker hissed. “Why the fuck is my father trying so hard to win Grace? This shit is sick.” He took a step closer to me and leaned into my ear. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t know why my dad is doing this.”
“Better him than my own father,” I said, still keeping my eyes locked with Grace’s. She didn’t move. She didn’t tremble. She didn’t show an ounce of fear.
Good girl, Grace. Show those fuckers they can’t break you.
The Elders were battling it out as if money were no issue. Now it was about who wanted it the most. I refused to watch my father as he fought for his right to fuck Grace however he chose. I feared if I witnessed the evil in his eyes, and the sinister intention painted on his face, that I would have no choice but to strangle him with my bare hands while the entire Order watched.
If my father won the auction…
There would be blood on my hands. I had no choice but to continue to block out the auction and try to focus on Grace and only Grace. If I didn’t tune out all else… I would ruin everything.
“And the winner of the belle is Elder St. Claire,” the other Elder finally announced.
I didn’t know if I should fall down to my knees in relief that my father had lost, or if I should demand for this all to end immediately.
It was Grace who made the decision for me. With her subtle nod and the stiffening of her spine, she silently spoke. She had this under control, even though I was about to lose it. She would do what it took. The plan. The goal. To the end…
Walker whispered, “I’m sorry. I wish he didn’t do this. I’m sorry.”
“This is beyond fucked up,” Sully said as I watched Walker’s dad escort Grace to a corner of the room that was draped in a silver sheet. I could see the faint outline of their shadows behind the fabric but nothing more. It was clear that St. Claire wanted just enough privacy, but still to be present so the entire Order would know he had the belle, and she was his.