Page 45 of Auctioned

Me. I disgust myself. Because if James were the one holding me, the whole ordeal wouldn’t have been as awful. I hate him for this. For manipulating me. For this unhealthy attachment festering inside me.

It’s a lie. All of it. He won’t make anything better. The man standing at the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest, is a bastard.

A lonely bastard. Surprisingly, Oliver isn’t there beside him. The other monster is perched up against the wall closest to the first line of chairs.

Whatever. Oliver doesn’t interest me. I don’t hate him for leading me on. He hasn’t.

It’s James who’s earned my fury.

For the longest second, I hold his gaze. Send him a clear message of how badly I despise him. His eyes gleam at my anger, and fuck him. I won’t let him enjoy this.

I cut my gaze to Baylor, and my heart crumples as I watch her profile. Her chin wobbles. She’s barely hanging on.

“My sacrifice”—Camden, you sick fuck—“has turned eighteen this year.”

Baylor’s body shakes harder. Her long, blonde tresses vibrate. Her fists clench and unclench at her sides.

My toes tingle on the stage floor. I’m this close to ripping Topher’s eyes out and tearing myself from his grip. I wish so fucking hard to fold Baylor into my arms and save her. Tell her over and over that she’ll be all right.

I whispered it to her over and over while we were forced to watch the fuckers get inked. Told her not to cry, not to let them see they got to us.

With my hand clutching onto hers, she managed to swallow down the tears.

But this.

These people in tuxedos and gowns glaring at us. The security personnel, dressed in black suits and carrying guns on display.

The motherfucking doctor’s exam table positioned between me and her.

It’s horrible. Awful. Inhumane.

She’s breaking down and I can’t do a damn thing about it.

“A virgin, of course.” Camden twists his head to look down at her.

Her blue eyes catch his. A single word from her mouth. “Please.”

He doesn’t dignify her with a response. Doesn’t move a muscle.

Oh, I was wrong. He does move. She whimpers, her other hand covering his. The one that has a death grip on her.

He’s squeezing her. Hurting her.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss. Can’t help it.

“Shut up,” Topher hisses back at me. I keep my eyes on Baylor. “You pull a stunt like that when we’re up there, and you’ll pay for it. I’ll sell you to the cruelest, most sadistic prick out there. The highest bidder? Not for you, pretty girl. You’ll get the worst one.”

James probably wouldn’t approve. He made a big deal about going through with this monstrosity in just the right way. He isn’t on stage, though.

If he were, he might’ve gotten angry at Topher. Might have had enough of his son’s disrespect. He could’ve pulled the plug on the whole thing.

Out of the four men, he seems like the one who wields the most power.

I wish I could call out for him. Remind James that we shared a moment yesterday, as depraved as it was. Beg him to make this stop.

Except I can’t.

He doesn’t care about my well-being. About Baylor’s.

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