Benefield told me all about the darkness swirling in this man’s mind. It’s repulsive, but the way Max stares at me says something else. Murder swims in his gaze. Anger bunches in his muscles. He’s about to explode with all the fury building inside of him.
“Ah, but this is the way it must be.” Benefield coos, enjoying Max’s reaction. He’s a manipulative sadistic twat. “You won the right to fight for her. You’ve yet to win the right to have her.”
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but…”
A tall man emerges from the opposite side of the courtyard. He steps out from the shadows. Splatters of blood stain his shirt. Everything about him radiates violence. From his malevolent stare to his hard-set shoulders, the man’s a professional killer. Lucian is Benefield’s right-hand man. If he’s here… I suppress a shudder of revulsion.
I don’t want Lucian to win whatever fight this is.
I know little about Benefield’s business, except trafficking slaves is but one small part of it. He’s involved in drugs, growing and transporting, as well as the movement of guns, ammunition, and weapons. Lucian runs all of that, and he’s known for making people disappear.
“The rules are simple,” Benefield says.
“Is that so? And what are the rules?”
“To the victor go the spoils.” Benefield gestures toward Lucian. “You are not the only one with eyes on my woman. Lucian desires her too, and just like you, he enjoys a woman with a bit of fight in her.”
“This is not what we agreed to.” Max’s eyes storm with fury.
“Oh, I remember exactly what we agreed on. Win the game and I give you the chance to fight for her.”
Max glances at Lucian. His eyes pinch and I wonder what he’s thinking. No doubt he’s debating whether he can win.
They appear evenly matched. Lucian radiates violence, but Max isn’t backing down. From the way he holds himself, he’s not afraid of Lucian.
I’d tell him to be careful, except rooting for one monster over another isn’t a mental space I can handle.
“Fight?” Max glances at me, then his attention shifts to Lucian.
“That’s what I said.”
“And when I win? She is mine, not for a moment, not for a night, but mine to take home?”
“If you win. More likely, Lucian will crack your skull.”
“Sir,” Max’s bodyguard speaks up. “You can’t do this.”
“I was wondering how long that would take.” Benefield’s face spreads into a wide grin. He snaps his fingers and two men come running. They carry something bulky.
My arms can no longer take the strain of my weight. I press my toes against the concrete beneath my bare feet and grimace as I slowly transfer my weight from my sockets to my toes. My calves protest immediately, threatening to go into another agonizing cramp.
It’s a balancing act I won’t be able to maintain for much longer. A sob escapes me as my weight shifts, but at least the pressure on my arms eases for a bit.
“What is this?” Max takes a step forward while Benefield unfolds what one of the men carries.
“Your weapons, of course. Choose whatever you like.” Benefield lifts a knife and moves it slowly through the air. Lamplight flashes on the steel as he makes a slashing cut through the air.
“Knives?” Max’s displeasure grows by the second.
“To win a great prize, you must be willing to sacrifice something equally precious.”
Benefield’s gaze cuts to me. He takes one last look at me, and I feel the moment he lets me go. No longer of use to him, he has no further use of me. I am now simply one of the girls who passes through this hellacious place.
“Sacrifice what?” Max adds.
“Your life of course.”
“Sir…” Max’s bodyguard’s tone turns menacing.
Max takes a look at the knives. His sharp gaze cuts to me, then back to Lucian. His lips press into a hard line and he takes a breath.
“If I kill him, she’s mine?” He glares at Benefield. “Not mine for the moment, or the day. She leaves with me?”
“Sir…” His bodyguard isn’t happy about this.
Honestly, I’m not either. I don’t care one bit about Lucian. It would be wonderful to watch Max carve him into tiny pieces. But Max? Somehow, I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.
I squeeze my lids together and don’t mind the tears. Benefield had men fighting to the death over a virgin. This shouldn’t come as any big surprise.
Benefield truly is mad.
As for Max, he wears his anger in the harsh lines carved deep into his face. I feel mine burning from the inside out. My anger is a hot ember. It burns through my emotions, turning everything to ash inside of me.
Fake torchlight, spaced too far apart, provides little light. Shadows dance with darkness in this hellish place. They flicker erratically, turning this whole place into the seventh pit of hell.
Why seven? Hell if I know. I just picked a random number out of the air on a whim.
As soon as Max selects his weapon, the man holding the bundle crosses in front of me and stands in front of Lucian. Lucian doesn’t take long. His hand darts out and he lifts a wicked curved blade straight out in front of him.
“You want to spend the rest of the night chatting? Or you ready to fight?”
Max shrugs out of his dinner jacket and gives it to his bodyguard. There’s a brief exchange. I can’t hear what they say but read enough of their body language to figure out the gist of it. The bodyguard isn’t happy.
Max is putting his life on the line for me.
My left calf cramps, pulling tight with searing pain. I cry out, drawing the attention of both men.
They glance at me. One with rabid hunger, reminding me of my naked state. The other with a promise to take me from this place forever.
I sag and hold in another shout as all my weight transfers back to my shoulders. They need to hurry and get started because I can’t handle much more of this torture.
Men file into the courtyard, lining up against the walls. The fake torchlight flickers, turning brighter as someone turns up the juice. The lights illuminate the perimeter while casting the center, where I’m tied, in shadows.
The murmurs of the guests and guards rise in pitch. At first, it’s indistinct, but then I hear bets being placed. Their voices rise as Max moves into the courtyard. His gaze cuts to me, to my wrists which bleed, to my muscles which shake from exhaustion, and finally to my eyes which fill with tears. There’s compassion in that gaze.
He doesn’t look at my breasts and he skips over my private parts.
Lucian drinks in my nakedness, making me want to crawl into a dark hole and die. Beneath his terrifying gaze, I feel violated in the worst possible way.
Max lowers his weapon. His right hand fists the handle of the blade. My nerves are wrung tight, but what is he feeling as he faces what is most surely his death?
Why? Why are you doing this Max? I’m not worth your life.
But then I look at him again, seeing not a deplorable businessman, but a man with virtually no body fat. Broad shoulders cap a hard, honed physique that I doubt was refined inside a gym.
There’s a lethality to Max’s gaze, which tells me he’s fought before. He’s killed before. His eyes practically glow as he takes in his opponent. I can’t imagine what’s going through his mind.