Thumper (Cerberus MC)

Moving without thinking, I grab the bottle of whiskey from my desk and pour more than enough into a glass to dull my senses. Lifting the glass to my parched lips, I toss back the entire thing and wait. But even as the liquor warms my guts and begins to enter my blood stream, I know it won’t be enough. It’s never enough. There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to make what I’m doing okay.

I pour another glass as I pull up the video feed to the basement. I missed my purchases being loaded into their crates and find Angel on the screen as he clasps the brunette woman’s arm and drags her from the room. Her eyes dart all around, taking in her surroundings, and I know she’s doing it for a reason. She thinks she can escape. She’s still holding on to hope that what I did to her in front of everyone is the worst of it. She doesn’t have a clue what’s in store for her, or maybe she does, and that’s her reason for looking all around like she may have a chance. Foolish thoughts made by a foolish woman. There’s no escape from the life we’re living, no do-overs or second chances. She put herself in a situation she can’t escape from, and I’m the bastard who’s going to have to remind her of that.

Other than her, the rest of them will get a break. Tomorrow starts the intake process. We need to learn a little about each of them to ensure they end up in the right place.

It’s going to be a long couple of weeks, and by the time it’s all over, they’re going to know that Javier Nolasco is the devil himself.

Chapter 3

Cara

I know I can’t stop the tears running down my face, but that doesn’t keep me from swiping at them repeatedly. I’m cold and terrified, knowing that what happened to the brunette woman will happen to each and every one of us. I knew it the second I was plucked from the street, as if my life and goals didn’t matter. I want to be grateful that it hasn’t happened yet, but then I remember the sound of the woman crying outside, and I feel like a monster for being grateful it wasn’t me.

How awful is that?

I spend my days helping others have a better quality of life in their old age, and yet I did nothing to stop what happened. I didn’t even open my mouth to beg for her as she pleaded not to be hurt. I doubt it would’ve worked. I doubt that monster that raped her in front of several men and five other women would’ve paused for a second to reconsider his choices. Men like that don’t have a conscience. They do what they want when they want and don’t have to worry about the repercussions.

“There,” the guy leading us down here snaps, pointing at one of the blonde women and then a cage that looks like nothing more than a dog kennel.

Her eyes dart around as if looking for an escape. I don’t know if running is the smartest thing or the dumbest choice she can make.

She must decide it’s a bad decision because her shoulders tremble as she climbs inside the cage. Angel—that’s what the guy outside called him—ushers us each into one of the crates before closing the doors.

Once inside, I realize just how isolated we are. I can hear the women on either side of me, but I can’t see them. Other than a small grate on the front, the things are completely enclosed. The blankets inside offer no comfort. I know thin layers of fabric won’t protect me from whatever their plans are for us.

I count the closing of five cages, including mine, and chance looking out through the small opening, wondering why I didn’t hear the sixth one.

Angel walks past the cages with a tight grip on the brunette’s arm. The woman has been through more than any of us, and it seems like her trauma isn’t stopping anytime soon.

I can’t see the door with the way things are situated, but the atmosphere in the room changes the second a door is closed and the sound of a thick lock slamming into place echoes around the room. Whimpers and cries fill the room, and the woman to the right of me rattles her cage like doing so will release the padlock Angel put in place. She yells in frustration when it doesn’t budge.

I want to tell her to calm down and think rationally, to save her energy, but it’s not my place. I don’t have any right to dictate how she responds to what’s going on.

I press my face to the grate of my cage and look around. There’s a table across from us, and the only thing on it is a television. Just the sight of it makes my skin crawl. I don’t imagine we’re going to be watching romantic comedies while eating popcorn.