Page 30 of Sadistic Retribution (Rise of Phoenyxx #2)

Hunter

I shift restlessly waiting for Purge to boot everything up. At least I can sit next to him. He borrowed Razor’s computer chair for me.

“Once you’re in, go to the coordinates here,” I tell him, sliding my phone with the information he needs toward him. I made sure to erase any messages that could call out ZYGOS. Usually, the messages auto-disappear, but I didn’t run that program since I needed to save some pertinent info.

His eyes cut over to my open phone screen, then he types quickly, inputting the numbers. The screen flickers twice, then a black, static screen appears.

“Put in your comm now, we need to make sure they work.” He picks his up, it almost slips through his fingers it’s so tiny. It's about the size of a pencil eraser. I copy his move, inserting mine, too.

I tap mine twice, which turns it on, and explain the same to Purge. He does, so I test them out.

“H and P here, anyone copy?”

It crackles, and Jax's voice comes through. “Copy that. The item is in place now.”

Code for his guy being ready. “Explain to P,” Jax says. “Turn off until ready.”

I look to Purge, motioning tapping the comms once to silence them. We both tap once, putting the comms to sleep for now.

“So, who’s your contact?” Purge questions.

“I can’t tell you that yet. What I can say is the guy taking your place is ex-military, and a former hostage negotiator. He’s trained to stay calm and level-headed in any situation. He'll be fine. His code name is Maverick.”

We chat for a bit about not only this, but about Pretty Girl. We all want the same thing—for her to come back to herself. God, I miss her.

As we talk, the screen in front of us changes.

Purge taps a few buttons and starts screen recording.

Maverick shows up, camera turned so we can see what he’s seeing.

He flips it quickly so we can see him. He's dressed to the nines.

He is wearing a black suit, a black shirt, and black dress shoes.

His dirty blonde hair is neat, his blue eyes covered by black sunglasses with dark lenses.

Flipping the cam back, we notice it looks like he’s in the strip club. It seems pretty packed, girls swirling around poles. Half-dressed servers wander around with trays. Every seat near the stage is taken. Mav stands off to the side.

“That the guy?” Purge points to the screen.

“Yes, that’s him. We'd better turn our comms back on.”

Once we do, we hear Mav’s voice, speaking very low. “—Copy? Ears and eyes?”

“Yes,” both of us answer. Mav nods, placing his hands behind his back, waiting.

I see a figure moving towards him.

The guy approaching him looks to be in his fifties, maybe. Plain, brown hair—average build. He's also in a suit. He nods to Mav, and gestures for him to follow.

They walk to the back, past the dressing rooms. An invisible door opens with a retina scan, and stairs lead down to a basement. There’s a table with two chairs in the center of the room. They both sit.

The unfamiliar man speaks first. “You are the one in the e-mail, yes?” He has a slight accent, sounds slightly Italian.

“Yes,” Mav answers calmly.

“Before we go any further, I need to see your identification, and proof that you can pay for any purchases you make.”

Without hesitation, Mav pulls two cards from his inside pocket of his suit jacket, handing them to the man. The man stands, walking into an unseen area with the cards. Mav is quiet as he waits patiently.

Purge darts his eyes to me, and I shake my hand, a finger to my lips. Mav can hear anything we say.

The man comes back in, handing Mav the cards back. “Everything checks out. Welcome to The Candy Palace, Mr. Simons. I have a few questions for you first.”

Mav folds his hands in front of him. “Alright.”

“You said you were interested in fresh, tender meat? For consumption?”

“That’s right. The fresher and more tender, the better.”

Purge raises his brow, his lips set in a firm line. I feel what he’s feeling. This is so sick.

“Good, good. I need to go fetch something, please wait here,” the man says.

I look at Purge, mouthing, “You still screen recording?” He nods—good. It's perfect proof. Irrefutable proof.

The man comes back, holding a small platter. He places it in front of Mav. “Go ahead, remove the lid.”

Mav complies, and my stomach flips at seeing the contents. It's a steaming, small portion of meat that’s a pinkish-brown color, and it looks different than any other meat I’ve seen. God...

Purge's face pales but manages to compose himself.

“Please consume this in its entirety,” the man says. “Once you’re finished, I will take you to the main room.”

Mav hesitates for a fraction of a second, but does as he’s asked.

The man doesn’t seem to notice it. He picks up the fork from the side of the plate, cutting off a piece.

The knife glides through like butter. He lifts the fork to his mouth, letting out a fake moan as he chews and swallows.

“Delicious,” he comments, then quickly finishes the portion.

Satisfied, the man stands. “Follow me, please.”

They move to the back of the basement, entering a door that once again requires a retina scan.

Maverick scans the room, turning so we can see inside. There's a small, square stage in the center, surrounded by folding chairs. In the corner closest to the stage, there are seven larger chairs, made from wood with thick cushions on the seats.

Spectators fill the seats, with what I assume are the bidders in the front row. Each man—and woman—there holds a small sign attached to a wooden handle.

Purge makes a face at seeing the women in attendance. Sick fucks—every one of them.

The man nods to a seat in the front, right at center stage. Mav sits down, and the man hands him a bidding paddle.

A loudspeaker sounds. A voice filters through. “Welcome to The Candy Palace, ladies and gentlemen! We have a fine assortment of treats for you today. I am confident there will be something for every taste.”

The audience claps politely. The sound of a door opening comes from out of the line of our sight, and bound and gagged women and children are paraded onto the stage. My God—there are children there who can't be more than four years old!

I lean over to squeeze Purge’s hand. The poor boy is positively green.

I count the prisoners on stage. There are five women, and five children. The women are from somewhere in their teens to early thirties. The children are so young… the oldest maybe twelve.

Next, another door opens, and everyone present stands. Six men walk out proudly, acting like kings. Maverick turns his head so we can see.

“Fuck, fuck...” Purge whispers silently, clenching his fists.

Holy fucking shit. It's the Six’s fathers. Every one of them!

They move to the special chairs, settling in like they’re on thrones. I note the seventh chair is unoccupied.

I meet Purge’s eyes. He mouths “Seventh family?” I turn my palms up to signal I don’t know. It certainly is suspicious, and I’m starting to think there is merit behind this theory.

The loudspeaker comes on again. “Our first morsel isn’t fresh, but she is quite obedient and is easily trained.

Turn slowly, dear.” The oldest-looking woman is ushered forward by a guard.

She’s shaking with fear. She does as she’s told, turning around, then back.

She's blonde with long, curly hair. Big eyes and pretty face. Tears streak her cheeks.

“Bidding starts at one hundred thousand.”

An older man in front with greying hair holds his paddle up.

“Anyone for one-fifty?”

Another younger man with blonde hair holds up his paddle.

“That’s one hundred and fifty. Anyone for one-seventy-five?”

No one else bids. “Going once... twice... sold to paddle three for one hundred and fifty thousand! Please collect your prize at the end of the auction.”

My stomach rumbles, nausea churning. I take a deep breath, knowing we have to watch the whole thing play out.

The next four women are sold quickly. The most bid was on the youngest girl, who was sold to a savage-looking man for seven hundred thousand.

“On to the prime selection! Feast your eyes on this succulent, fresh, tender meat!”

Everyone sits forward in their seats, excitement on their faces. Before the bidding begins, the hosts are introduced. Synn's father stands, moving to the stage. One of the guards hands him a microphone. Purge sucks in a surprised breath and I shush him again.

“I would like to personally welcome you all to The Candy Palace,” Synn’s father says. “I’m your host, Franco. Please enjoy the bidding, and the complimentary selections on the menus on the side of your seats.”

Synn's father retakes his seat with a smirk on his face. Purge looks on the verge of passing out. I pat him awkwardly on the back to steady him.

The oldest child is pushed forward. No more than twelve, he’s a scrawny, dirty thing. “The bidding starts at five hundred thousand,” the loudspeaker announces.

Three paddles raise in the air—two men, and one woman.

“Raise to six hundred thousand?”

All three stay steady.

“Seven hundred thousand?”

One man drops, leaving two. Suddenly, the woman shouts out, “One million dollars!”

The remaining man drops out. The voice says, “Sold, for one million dollars to the lovely lady!”

We watch the next two children sell. Two girls. Now, there’s two left. A boy and a girl, both somewhere between four and six. The boy is next.

“Bidding starts at one million!”

Mav shoots up his paddle, as does another woman.

“Can I get two million?”

They both stay.

“Raise to three million?”

Mav drops, and the woman wins.

Purge and I glance uneasily at each other.

“It’s time for a short intermission, folks. Please say hello to the gentlemen in the tall seats. Franco, Aslanov, Barbieri, Petrov, Marino, and Volkov. They are also your proud hosts.”

A polite round of applause sounds around the room. Purge's face reddens, and he clenches and unclenches his fists. We have proof now. He looks like he wants to kill them all. I completely feel the same way.

As the fathers sit again, the last child is pushed to the middle of the stage. A skinny girl, barely out of the toddler stage. She's got brown hair, and tears and snot dripping down her face.

“This one is prime. Fresh and as tender as they come! Bidding starts at two million!”

Mav holds up his paddle immediately. Five more men do the same.

“Can I get two-point-five?”

Everyone stays.

“Three million?”

One man folds. Then an old man in his seventies at least yells out, “Five million dollars!”

A few gasps are heard. The others all drop out, leaving the old man and Mav. Mav's face looks determined. “Ten million dollars!” he yells. The old man shakes his head to indicate he can’t top it.

“We have a bid of ten million dollars! Going once... twice... sold to the handsome gentleman in the black suit!”

I am relieved that one, at least, will be on her way back to her family. The poor thing is terrified, ugly sobs bursting though her little chest. The guards hold on to the sold people as the winners stand and file out to pay for their “prizes”.

I whisper to Purge. “Once the screen goes blank, we’re free to talk, but it will have to be quick.”

“Okay,” he says, averting his eyes. The pain on his face tugs at my heart.

The winners walk back out, collecting the trafficked people they bought. When Mav reaches the scared little girl, he puts an arm around her shoulders. He says something in her ear, so softly we almost don’t hear it. I think he said to not be scared, she’s going home, or something to that effect.

The screen darkens. Purge leans in to shut off the screen recording. “Wait for Mav to speak first,” I explain, whispering the words.

After a few minutes, Mav’s voice comes through our comms. “It’s all done. No one suspected anything. The girl is being brought back with me, and we’ll find her family. Please cut all communications now.”

We both remove the comms from our ears, making sure they’re turned off. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

Purge gets up, opening his door. “Guys,” he calls, and the others file in, with the exception of Trikk, who’s holding onto Pretty Girl.

We quickly update the situation to them.

Synn's face turns purple. “Motherfucker! I will kill him!”

The others also curse and threaten death to their fathers.

Purge shouts to get control over all the yelling. “Guys, we have solid proof now. They're done. We've got them dead-to-rights!”

Frost slowly smiles. “They can’t hold anything over us anymore. This changes everything!”

Synn looks right at me. “Go do your recon, or whatever. We need to talk privately.”

I roll my eyes. “I was going to do that, anyway.”

I look at Pretty Girl as I go to leave. She looks away.

“Soon, my love, soon,” I say to myself.