Property

“Your father’s passing was a pity,” he begins.

“It was a murder,” I retort.

“It was necessary.”

“Go fuck yourself.” I say those three words with pure ice and venom. If I could kill every one of these men I would. Right here. Right now. If I could find a gun, or some poison, hell, a heavy rock would do. But Darko won’t let me kill them. He’s been abundantly clear that a blood feud with these people isn’t something he wants. He wants me to let their evil slide, to simply go along with their plans, become another pretty thing they own.

“I can’t say I’m impressed, Darko,” someone else chimes in. “She’s worse than the old man was before her. At least he knew to talk behind our backs.”

“Maybe. But we couldn’t do this to him.”

Darko swoops across the room and grabs me up from the chair. I tumble through the air and land across his thighs. I scream curse words as his palm finds my ass. He thrashes me mercilessly. Twelve hard slaps land, only twelve, but they are enough to utterly decimate me.

I scream and curse and the worst part of it isn’t the pain, it’s the laughter. From the moment the first slaps land, the men start to laugh, their calls like jackals. They think I’m an amusement. He has humiliated me, made me small. He has taken my dignity and my fight, and now there is nothing left.

I go limp across his lap. I let the slaps fall. I surrender to defeat.

It stops. He lifts me up and he carries me from the room without a word to me, or to the men who laugh at my pain.

“Shhh,” he says softly, pulling me against his hard body.

He has never comforted me before. He has never bothered to make me feel better. He’s only ever tried to make me feel worse. Now I can’t possibly feel any less. Grief, rage, they course through me together and leave me weak.

“I had to do that,” he murmurs. “I had to break you down. I had to show them that you are controllable, so they would leave you alone.”

My tears are flowing so fast I can’t stop them. He pulls me onto his knee and he brushes the tears away, his arms wrapped around me in what feels like affection. It is too late. It is far too little.

* * *

Darko

She is a prideful woman, and I have taken it from her. Her tears break something inside me. She has never cried, not once in this ordeal, not when she was taken, not when she was punished or caged. She cries now because I have removed every defense she had, in front of the worst people in the world.

“I hate you,” she sobs, and I feel the truth of it. She hates me, and I can’t blame her. I hate myself for doing this to her. She deserves protection, real love. All she’s going to get from me is basic protection and necessary manipulation.

The men in the next room represent seventy-six percent of the world’s combined wealth. It would be more, but one or two of the boys are overseeing a convenient civil war. When these men decide they want something, there is no resisting them. They can kill anyone anywhere on the planet at any time, and that is merely the beginning of their reach—our reach.

We pick governments. We sway elections. We choose currencies, trade land, people, futures. We spark war, famine, even disease. Not a man here deserves the power he wields and not one of them will give it up before he dies.

Most people would consider an heiress like Chloe to be powerful, but in our company, she is as vulnerable as it is possible to be. To these men, Chloe is as helpless as a street kid, and just as likely to be used and discarded.

“Leave me alone,” she sniffs, pushing away from me. “Just let me be.”

I give her space. There is nothing I can say to improve matters and I have to ensure that the Order is suitably impressed and ready to forget about Chloe.

* * *

“Satisfied, gentlemen?”

A glass of whiskey is pushed into my hand. “Poor thing doesn’t stand a chance with you, does she?”

She doesn’t. Now that I’ve broken her, it should be easier from here on out. I’ll make sure she’s well trained, have my fun, and find her a suitable mate. There are plenty of men who would be happy to marry someone like Chloe. She can have the family she no doubt desires. She can live a happy, if simpler life.

The thought gives me an unpleasant pang, but I know I can’t keep her. Not having seen how she reacted to the world that I am a part of. I live a dark life. Rescuing her might be the one good thing I ever do. Setting her free might earn me some grace.