Page 24 of Taschen (Chosen Few #4)

CHAPTER 24

S hivers racked her body. Her head spun from the tilting of the table and the bright lights beating down on her. She swept her gaze over the rows and rows of masked faces.

Nausea swarmed in her belly like angry bees. Full-blown tremors replaced the shivers. The straps anchoring her to the bed dug into her forearms and just above her knees. Paralysis stole her strength. If it wasn’t for the belts holding her up, she’d have toppled over.

The sight of the masked faces staring back at her, like reflections in a house of mirrors, was dizzying. Horror encompassed her senses as she searched the crowd, praying to see one bare face. Praying for Taschen’s to be there.

The speaker introduced her. Barely any of his words registered, but his voice hammered into her skull. He might be masked and concealed like every other psychopath in the room, but his voice and the glittering jewelry on his left hand and wrist told her exactly who he was.

“Bidding opens at fifty thousand dollars!” he hollered.

Sephie’s stomach heaved.

Oh god. Oh god.

Memories of Clay’s video circulated through her mind. She’d wondered what’d happened to Clay after the auction. Now she’d find out.

Part of her wished Laura had given her the sedative. That she could somehow not see any of this. But the nurse, who’d met her backstage after the guards secured her to the hard, unpadded metal bed, had done the same thing as she had in the cell and wasted the contents of the syringe. Sephie had been grateful at the time. Now, though, she wished she could vanish. Even if disappearing into her own mind was the only escape.

Cheers burst from the crowd. One man after another called out his price. She swallowed and closed her eyes, but their hot, horny gazes made her flesh burn.

“One hundred and fifty thousand!”

Silence fell over the room. She hadn’t been paying attention to the numbers, so she had no idea what kind of jump had been made, but no one competed.

“One hundred and fifty thousand from member 81 going once, going twice.”

Silence.

“Sold! ”

The room filled with applause. Her teeth chattered. Sold. She’d just been sold. She closed her eyes as panic overwhelmed her.

She expected the guards to return and wheel her to the side of the stage, but she stayed under the lights. Apprehension built against her skin. She wet her lips, confusion forcing her to focus on her surroundings.

“Congratulations, 81. You have Seraphina Burgess for the first night. Now, let’s go for night two.”

More excitement.

What the hell was happening? Ragged breaths passed through her dry, chapped lips. She blinked as she looked at the masked faces. Nothing made sense.

Raymond called out another winner. This time for seventy-five thousand. Then another, for forty-five.

Then Dreya and Landry finally returned, unlocked the bed’s wheels, and steered her off stage. Saltiness touched her lips, making her realize her cheeks were wet with tears. The bed rolled down a ramp and into another room, this one different from the last. More comfortable. Almost as if for show.

A nicely made bed sat on the opposite side of the sterile space, and a picture hung on the wall. A partially opened door revealed the room had its own bathroom .

Landry loosened the straps around her legs and arms then towed her to the bed. Her legs trembled, every muscle weak from adrenaline and fear. His rough hands forced her to sit on the mattress. He latched her wrist to the railing of the bed with handcuffs.

“What’s happening?” she demanded.

He raised his eyebrows, his mouth hooked at the corner. “Your buyer will be in soon.”

He and Dreya backed out of the room and locked the door.

***

The sight of Sephie had shocked Taschen with the force of a live wire hitting a pool of water. He’d pressed his heels into the cement floor, anchoring himself to the seat so he wouldn’t bolt forward and blow his cover. All he could do was sit there and watch her be auctioned.

Rage, violent and deadly, bit at his heels. So help him god, he’d kill every fucking person involved.

He’d made the winning bid, but the fact that there were two other men in line after him just about made his head explode.

“Congratulations,” said the cocksucker next to him. “Sure she’s worth it, but out of my budget.”

Taschen grunted. Sephie had been rolled off stage only moments before, and now the guards were wheeling in another poor soul. But he couldn’t focus on that person.

He leaned toward the guy next to him. “How long until we collect?”

“That eager? Not sure. But I think winners can pick up their prize before the show ends.”

Good enough for him. He stood and made his way up the aisle. A guard blocked the exit. “Show’s not over yet.”

“I’d like to pick up my prize.”

“Show’s not over yet.”

Taschen bunched his hands into fists at his sides. “I’m paying a hundred and fifty grand. I don’t want to wait.”

The guard huffed then delved into his pocket and produced a radio. “Our winner wants to pick up the woman.”

Static crackled. “I’ll have an escort get him.”

“One minute, please,” the guard said, gesturing for Taschen to move to the side.

Two minutes later, the female guard from the stage appeared. “Right this way, sir.” She motioned up the stairs.

Confusion prickled the back of his neck. Had they moved Sephie? They reached the top of the stairs and exited into the parlor.

Now that he was aboveground, the guys would be able to pick up his coms again. “Why are we upstairs?” he asked, both to tip off the team and to find out where they were keeping Sephie.

She raised her dark eyebrows. “Two stairways lead downstairs.” She had a thick accent. Maybe Spanish? “One is for guests, one leads backstage.” He followed her through the parlor, around the felt rope, and down the hall.

Tension seized his muscles. Any minute and he’d have Sephie in his arms. “There’s another set of stairs at the back?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Copy that,” Brick said in his ear.

She stopped at a door near the end of the hall, removed a set of keys and stuck one into the deadbolt. He glanced over his shoulder. A long hallway behind him stretched to the kitchen, and the solid-wood door the guard was opening sat less than ten feet from the garden doors leading out to the back.

If shit went sideways, he’d take Sephie out those doors. At least the guys knew where he was heading. The guard swung open the door. White fluorescent light shone from the basement. No cement walls here. The brightly lit staircase bore the scent of fresh drywall and paint.

They reached the bottom, and his feet touched slick tile. A glance to his left showed doors labeled with a letter and a number, but she kept walking forward.

Apprehension built with every step. He kept his hands loose at his sides, his stride even. He just had to keep it together until he got Sephie out safely. She was probably terrified. He couldn’t be sure, but judging by the stark terror etched on her delicate face, she hadn’t been drugged before the auction, like Clay.

She’d been alert and all too fucking aware.

Once she saw him— Shit. She might not be able to hide her surprise. That’d be bad. Really fucking bad. Especially since he couldn’t call for backup underground.

The guard hung a right and moved down another short corridor. At least their steps wouldn’t be hard to retrace. Around the corner then straight to the end of the hall and they’d be at the stairs.

She led him to the third room on the left and took out her keys once again. “The Covenant leader will be in in a few minutes to go over the ground rules. As promised, you have twenty-four hours to return your prize.”

She pushed open the door and stepped back while he entered. “He’ll be in shortly.” She shut and locked the door.

Taschen stood rooted to the spot. Sephie sat on the bed, a set of handcuffs anchoring her to the rail. Tears soaked her cheeks, but her wild green eyes flared with contempt. Goddamn, he was so happy to see her. Relief almost dropped him to his knees, but he couldn’t do that.

Without turning his head, he swung his gaze up to the corner. Sure enough, a green light flicked within a dome camera. The urge to pull her into his arms made his muscles spasm .

But how he reacted in the next few minutes would determine which way they got out of here—in one piece or two separate body bags.

He couldn’t let it be the latter.

***

Sephie kept her chin lifted as the bastard who’d bought her entered the room. The coward wore the same mask and cloak as every other spineless creep inside these walls—except her guards and the nurse.

He stood with his back to the closed door and didn’t approach. Good thing, because if he came within five feet, she’d kick him in the balls.

“What the hell do you want from me?” she spat.

He took a step in her direction, his stride slow and... familiar? He wasn’t a small man. God no. He had to be Taschen’s height and just as jacked. Which sent a bolt of fear through her chest. She swallowed, ready to strike him, but he stopped out of reach.

She drew back, coiling away. Her heart thundered in her chest. Part of her wanted to jump up and rip off the mask. Something was eerily off about the guy. He didn’t try to touch her. Didn’t say a word. Why?

The door opened and the masked man with a blue sash entered. Raymond. For whatever reason, he kept his mask on .

“Congratulations, 81.” He stuck out his hand, and the newcomer shook it. “Just some ground rules and you two can be on your way.”

The guy nodded.

Her skin prickled. Why wasn’t he speaking?

He handed the mysterious freak a business card. “Please submit your payment immediately to the crypto account below.”

Without hesitation, the guy pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen. A minute later he showed the device to Raymond. “Done.”

“Good. Now,” Raymond said, gesturing at Sephie. “No damage to her face. As you can see, she’s quite beautiful and we want to keep her that way. She can’t be physically maimed either. We’ve got two paying customers who expect her in perfect condition tomorrow and the following day.”

The man drew his arms across his chest.

Raymond laced his fingers. “Do we have an understanding?”

Seconds clipped by. “Understood.” The steady timber of his voice rippled through the room.

She blinked twice.

Goosebumps pinched her flesh, and her heart fluttered in her chest. No. It couldn’t be. There was no way. She searched the mask for an area that might allow her to see his face, but nothing was visible. Her gaze drifted over his wide shoulders, up to his head, and she froze .

Just beneath the rim of the mask, the material of the hood of the cloak gaped. A sliver of skin peeked out, revealing the end of a scar. Her breath hitched. Emotion rushed to her eyes. She latched her hands around the edge of the mattress so she wouldn’t leap from the bed. Lowering her gaze so Raymond couldn’t see her expression, she steadied her heart rate.

Maybe she was going insane. Hallucinating.

It can’t be.

Raymond brought the key to her handcuffs and freed her then left the room. The man stalked forward, this time stopping directly in front of her. The width of his large frame blocked the camera. His hand came out and caught her chin. Slowly, he tilted back her head so she was forced to look at him.

Fear mixed with hope paralyzed her. His gentle touch made promises fate might not allow him to keep. She wet her lips, and his name clung to her tongue but she didn’t dare breathe it. If he was here to rescue her, she had to keep her voice down and her reactions in check.

He kept his knuckles beneath her chin, and his other hand lifted the mask. The plastic slid back one inch at a time, revealing his stubble-covered chin, then the bow of his pale lips, his straight nose and—

His eyes.

Fierce, familiar hazel orbs. His gaze slammed into her, tethering itself to her heart and soul.

She gasped, and a shudder took hold of her shoulders.

His slow smile warmed her all the way to her toes. She wanted to launch into his arms, to feel his chest on hers, his warm, protective embrace, but she couldn’t do anything but stare.

“You’re coming home with me,” he said boldly.

Sephie closed her eyes as torrents of relief washed over her.

He was alive. He’d made it. He’d found her.

Questions buzzed along her tongue, but she didn’t utter a single one. Every step they made from here on out could get them killed. But for a flicker of an instant, she let him hold the weight of her face against his knuckles, savoring the heat of his body.

His other hand came down to caress her cheek. “It’s almost over now, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She gave the slightest nod.

“Stand up.” This time he spoke louder, commanding. He fit the mask back over his face and dropped his hold.

He circled his fingers around her wrist and pulled her to her feet. She let her gaze slide to her clothes, but changing wouldn’t be worth the time. If someone picked up on Taschen’s sneaking inside, they were doomed .

Reaching for the garment bag at the end of the bed, he tossed her clothes inside and then threw it over his shoulder. With his hand back around her wrist, he led her from the room. She deliberately wobbled and swayed. The guards needed to think she was drugged.

He opened the door and jerked. Sephie bumped into his back then glanced around Taschen’s bicep to see Landry glaring at them.

“Can I help you?” Taschen bit out.

“You need an escort,” he said flatly. “Can’t have people wandering around.”

Taschen’s fingers tightened on her skin in warning. “Sure thing. Just make it snappy.”

Landry curled his lip, and his hateful, glittering eyes snaked down her body before he turned and led the way down the hall.

The cool air skimmed over her skin. Instinct made her want to slide her hand into Taschen’s, but she couldn’t look willing after what’d just gone down on stage. She let her arm hang loosely in his hold, her pace slow, her eyes downcast. Every step offered hope mixed with dread.

It couldn’t be this easy. They couldn’t just walk out of here. The end of the hallway came into view. Once they rounded the corner, the staircase was straight ahead. She’d already mapped out the route.

They reached the corner, and exhilarating anticipation made her speed up. After turning left, Landry came to an abrupt halt. “Sir?” Landry asked.

Two armed guards and Raymond stood in front of them. He’d removed his mask but still wore the cloak.

She gasped but didn’t move or take her eyes off Raymond. Tension thickened the air.

“Seems we have a problem,” Raymond said slowly.

Taschen’s palm branded her skin. The charge pulsating from his body seemed to be daring Raymond and the guards to reach for her. Her knees knocked. Fear threatened to buckle them.

It couldn’t end here. Please, God, no.

“And that is?” Taschen said, a sharp edge to his voice.

“All winners need to have their identity verified,” Raymond said, his voice ice-cold. “So if you’ll please remove your mask, 81.”

All the hope seeped from her pores. They knew. There was no way out. Landry, Raymond, and two guards separated them from the stairwell.

They were as good as dead.

“Not a problem.” Taschen dropped her wrist and reached for his mask. He yanked the ugly plastic from his head and threw it at Raymond’s face.

All hell broke loose.