We’ve been at the game for hours.
“I say we play the last card, and see who wins.” He pushes in all of his chips, and I about feel my heart drop to my stomach.
The odds say I’m sitting on a crap hand. If I don’t win Evie, I might lose our chance to rescue her. Knox shifts behind me, and I feel his unease.
But there is no going back.
“Check.” I push in my chip stack and stare at nearly thirty-five million dollars. I’ve still yet to look at my cards.
“Let’s see what the last card is, shall we?” Benefield leans back.
I draw the top card from the deck and flick it on the table. It’s the king of diamonds.
Benefield crosses his arms over his chest and the corner of his lip ticks up. We’re both out of chips. There’s no bet to be placed. All we can do is reveal our cards.
Benefield turns over his hand, revealing a four and an eight. “Full house.”
There’s no way for me to win, unless I’m holding a pair of twos. Three eights and a pair of twos beats three twos and a pair of eights.
I tap my top card and close my eyes. But there’s no reason to delay. I flip over a two of clubs and cringe. I’ve got a full house as well, but it’s lower in rank compared to his.
He leans forward, and stretches out his hands to collect the chips. I turn over the last card and feel the earth stop.
It’s another two.
Benefield’s eyes widen as he takes it in. Mr. H covers his mouth.
“Four of a kind.”
It’s the lowest ranking of four of a kind, but it’s a heart, diamond, club, and a spade—four twos staring up at me. My heart beats inside my chest as a surge of adrenaline runs through me.
I won.
I fucking won.
Benefield stares at the cards and shakes his head. “Well played, Mr. S. Very well played.”
“Where’s Eve?”
“Evie is waiting for you.”
“Where?”
“She’s in the arena.”
I don’t know what that means, except I don’t like it one bit.
Benefield claps his hands. “Come along, we don’t want to keep Mr. S’s girl waiting.” Without another word, Benefield turns on his heel and strides out of the room.
I glance at Knox and rush out of the room, following a madman.
Twenty-Two
Eve
One breath.
That’s all it took for my world to fall apart. Not like I was standing on solid ground, but still.
This day, it’s been coming for a long time, but I foolishly held onto the belief I would be rescued. That this hell would end.
I made the mistake of thinking I controlled my fate, all the while knowing it rests in the hands of a madman.
I’ve been here before, weeks ago. This is the courtyard where I told Benefield I would stand by him. It’s here where men bled and that poor girl cried.
I remember thinking she must be in great agony. Arms stretched overhead. Made to balance on her toes.
I didn’t know the half of it.
James said nothing as he wrapped my wrists in iron. There was no humanity in his eyes when he strung me up, tying me to the pole. The steel is cold against my skin, rusty and abrasive.
I cried. I begged. I sobbed and howled.
All he did was lift me higher until I, too, balanced on my toes.
It’s been hours, grueling hours of torture as I alternately hang by my arms and balance on my toes. My calves cramp again as I cry out. I can’t bear it anymore. My shoulders burn and my sockets protest the weight I place on them as I hang to relieve the stress on my toes, my calves, and my legs.
I blink and my eyebrows pull in as misery sweeps through me. What’s going on? Why now? What nefarious plan does Benefield have for me?
Strings of hair hang in my face. They get in my mouth, and twist around my shoulders. I spit out the hair that finds its way into my mouth and ignore the rest.
My bare breasts glisten with perspiration. My sweat attracts bugs that bite and sting. Hot, itchy, and naked, I’ve been stripped of dignity and forced to stand naked in a courtyard where men fought for the privilege to deflower a virgin.
I’m no virgin, but there’s no doubt something similar will happen tonight. This isn’t random. Benefield has something horrendous planned.
The sound of booted feet coming my way grabs my attention.
“Gentlemen…” Benefield’s voice rings out loud and clear. I cringe as he stops at the entrance to this hell. “We’ve arrived at the part of the evening where Mr. S may choose to fight for the right to have this girl or leave empty-handed.”
“You said she would be mine.” The menacing growl coming from Max sends shivers down my spine. The tiny hairs on my arms lift and my nipples pebble despite the evening heat.
Girl.
It’s the first time Benefield uses that derogatory name on me, and it means everything.
I’m no longer his. No longer protected.
The chains clank as I squirm against the cold metal at my back. Max is going to fight for me.
Mine.
I don’t react to Max claiming me as his with the same revulsion I did when Benefield said it. When I look in Max’s eyes, I don’t see the soulless dispassion that steals my hope like I do with Benefield.
But who? Who will he make Max fight?
“Now where is the fun in letting you have the girl?” Benefield’s sugary sweet voice grates on my nerves.
I glare at Benefield, focusing all my hatred into that stare. I’m not one of his timid girls, broken and subdued, their minds splintered and cracked from the suffering they endured. He rebuffs me with a flick of his lids, as if I don’t exist.
Too easy to fall.
Rage rips through me.
“You bastard! I hope you rot in hell.” My fiercest weapons are my words. It’s all I have left, and I’m not sure if those words are meant for Benefield, or the man who gapes as he takes me in.
And Max’s jaw is open and gaping. His eyes pinch and his fists curl. Fury bunches in his shoulders as rage fills his face.
Evidently, he’s pissed at Benefield. From their conversation, I take it Benefield promised me to Max, conditionally, and only just now is Max realizing what that condition will be.
I suppose I’d be upset too, except I’m the one whose life they’re ruining.
Men are such dicks.
Naked and chained to a post, I’m not feeling very confident about the outcome of this night. I don’t know much about Max, except for the perversions Benefield told me about.
Max wants a challenge, a woman who will fight him. He wants a girl who will claw at him and bite, screaming vile obscenities as he forces himself on her, raping her over and over and over again.
I pinch my eyes shut and struggle in the chains, knowing it’s futile. If this truly is my fate, I will fight and I’ll take him down with murderous passion. It’s either me, or him, and I won’t let Max break me.
I’d rather die.
“Explain what this is…” Max’s tone is sharp, deadly. He’s not happy. “I won the rights to her fair and square. And why is she naked?” His tone is oddly protective.
Why does he care that I’ve been stripped and tied up like any other slave? This is what he likes, isn’t it?