Page 43 of Auctioned Innocence
The casual cruelty of it disgusts me, the assumption that she can control us through fear indefinitely.
She doesn’t realize her mistake.
Fear can paralyze, yes. But it can also galvanize.
Can transform from weakness to weapon in the right hands.
Inmyhands.
My plans might get us all killed—or might just set us free.
8
DANTE
The third showing is the worst.
I maintain Dmitri’s bored expression as Sofia is presented again, but my knuckles are white around my whiskey glass.
They’ve changed her into something red now—symbolic, I think bitterly.
Like blood in water, drawing sharks.
The silk clings to her curves, the color making her skin appear paler, more vulnerable.
More like prey.
Around me, the atmosphere has shifted.
The first viewing was assessment.
The second, consideration.
This third one has a predatory edge that makes my trigger finger itch.
These men have moved from appraisal to appetite.
“Exquisite, isn’t she?” Julian Reed, a British arms dealer, leans close with alcohol-soured breath.
His reputation precedes him—ex-MI6 turned mercenary, then arms dealer to terrorist organizations, now respectableenough to attend functions like this while still despicable enough to enjoy them. “I have a particular interest in this one.”
I take a measured sip of whiskey, using the moment to compose myself then force my lips into a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Competition, then.”
“Oh, I do hope so.” Reed’s eyes never leave Sofia, tracking her movements with an intensity that makes my blood boil. “I enjoy…breaking spirited ones. And this Renaldi girl, well, she practically radiates defiance beneath that docile act.”
The crystal glass nearly shatters in my grip.
I set it down carefully, channeling my rage into Dmitri’s cold laugh.
Every instinct demands I break Reed’s jaw, crush his windpipe, and eliminate the threat he represents to Sofia.
Instead, I play the game.
“Many men lose fortunes chasing such dreams,” I say, letting Dmitri’s accent thicken. “Spirit becomes stubbornness. Defiance becomes…inconvenience.”
Reed chuckles, the sound like nails on glass.
“Not with the right methods. I have facilities specifically designed for…adjustment periods.” He taps the scar that runs from his left temple to his jaw. “This was from my last acquisition. Diplomat’s daughter. Took three weeks, but when I finished, she couldn’t even remember her own name.”
