Page 91 of Wicked Deceit
Play your fucking part---my mind plays those words repeatedly as I lean into the microphone an inch away from my lips. My heart pounds a steady beat against my ribs, and an ache forms in my head. I know this is so wrong in the back of my mind.
“Welcome investors and bidders to lot number two hundred and twenty-six,” my voice comes out distorted and deep, thankfully covering the quiver in my voice.
The dark mask covering my face hides the grimace—thank fuck. I know from experience that if I show an ounce of weakness in front of my father, he’ll pistol whip and then kill me. Even worse, if I show them an ounce of favor toward Kaycee right now, they’ll know my act wasn’t an act.
As the lot number leaves my lips and the bids start rolling in on the screen, my breath leaves my lungs. That fucking number. Breaking into Crowe’s house didn’t warrant much information if little at all. We found out about Addison's health, and Kaycee got to sit in Maggie’s bedroom for closure. But that fucking number he had said over the phone when we spied on him has run through my head since. Two hundred and twenty-six—it all makes sense now. Everything that’s fucking perplexed me over the last year clicks into place. The cameras in the hallways. They always knew what I was up to and how to track these people I was supposed to keep an eye on. It was all for this. Kaycee’s torture and torment were an investment for them—a money-making scheme. And fuck me if it isn’t working in their favor.
“It’s the night you’ve all been waiting for. Your last bids have been placed!” I try hard to add fake excitement to my voice as cheerful elevator music plays through a second microphone. My father urges me to continue my speech with an angry wrist wave. “Over the past few months, you’ve watched lot two hundred and twenty-six through your screens. You’ve selected her torture, her embarrassments, and punishments.” Vomit churns as I say the words, but I remember their weapons holstered away in their robes and continue.
Several videos clipped together of every incident Kaycee has endured since she walked on campus flashes across a monitor in a montage of clips. It’s like a tribute to their cruelty, and they’re eating it up like a fucking ice cream sundae. Their laughter floats through the control room with glee, cackling at her misfortunes. I feel it from here, pounding into my chest, and it fucking disgusts me. My fingernails threaten to burst through the leather gloves. But I remain calm on the outside and finish what I’m supposed to do. If I could overpower them and kill them now, I would.
Leaning away from the speaker, I clear the emotions from my throat before I can continue. “You’ve watched her cry and yell. You’ve watched her pain, frustrations, and sadness. Now—welcome one and all for your final viewing of lot two hundred and twenty-six as she endures your last requests and bids us farewell! You’ve spoken, and you shall receive!” Once my horrific speech is finished, I sit back in my chair. My heart assaults my ribs from the inside. I’m serving my girlfriend up on a platter for these sickos with a pretty bow on top of her head.
On camera, her face pales, completely voiding her of color. She eyes the camera, staring into my broken soul. My skin tingles with awareness, raising the hairs on my arms. Can she see me? Does she know I’m suffering as much as she is—that my heart is splitting into two at the sight of her bound wrists and dried blood painting her flesh? No. She doesn’t. I don’t want her to know I’m sitting here in a chair while she’s on display. But I can’t move. Not with the three evil bastards across from me with guns in reach. If I made a move, they’d take their guns out and shoot me dead before I could grab her and run.
My spine straightens as I watch her fight for her fucking life. She’s drowning in a human-sized fish tank because I had to cuff her. I put her there—me. Fuck. I did this. If my Sweetheart lives, I’ll never be able to look her in the eyes again without the guilt consuming me. Eyeing the bastards across from me, I calculate the moment I’ll be able to steal their gun and fucking kill them.
The psychos chuckle and point as her body sways in the rising water. Crowe peers down at a stopwatch in his hands and nods his head.
“We have thirty seconds until it drains,” he says, pursing his lips.
“You’re not fucking killing her?” I ask, trying to clear the emotions from my voice.
Crowe barks a laugh and slaps a hand down on the table separating us. “What good would she be if she died so soon? She’ll have time to displace the water and take a breath. She’s a very smart girl. She’ll figure it out,” he says, raising a brow at me like I should have guessed their fucking plans.
“You see those numbers, boy?” My father asks in a rough voice, pointing toward the screen. I nod in response. “If we killed our main attraction, what good would it be? She has several trials to go through before she meets her end.” He gives me a sick smile at the end of his speech, and it does little to tamp down the nerves bursting to life inside of me.
I sit on pins and fucking needles when the water goes entirely over her head. She struggles in the water, fighting against her cuffs to get to the top for fresh air. She tugs at her wrists several times and looks around. Come on, Sweetheart! Calculate and fucking move. You can do this.
“And that’s thirty seconds,” Crowe says, stopping the timer. He waves a hand, and I see the water go down just a little before she realizes she can make waves and displace the water onto the ground.
I force my leg to stay still beneath the table when she bursts through the water and desperately gasps for air. Fuck yes, that’s my girl. Outwardly, I can’t express my anxiety to them through leg bouncing or any physical forms. I hold it in. All of it. Soon it’ll be too much, like an overfilled balloon, and I’ll fucking pop. But for now, I know she’s safe, and I know they’re at least keeping her alive long enough to enact our plan of getting Kaycee the fuck out of here.
My father’s eyes narrow in on me, eyeing my stiff body. Thankfully, my face is still covered, or he’d see the multitude of swollen teardrops falling down my cheeks. I compose myself through a deep breath, pretending that I enjoy her torment as she struggles to breathe on screen. She coughs and sputters, splashing the retreating water around.
“Time to move on,” Crowe directs with another twirl of his hand.
“Alpha,” my father shouts, pounding his fist onto the table.
The door behind me pops open, and Piper walks in with the same dark outfit as me: mask, gloves, and a long robe. Her posture is perfect with her chest out, shoulders back, and hands resting at her sides.
“Yes, daddies?” She purrs from beneath the masks.
Fucking gag me with a goddamn spoon. This word, of course, makes their smiles wider. For fuck’s sakes, did they rail her, too? Manipulate her so much she thinks they all care for her? I want to bang my head against the wall until it splits open as she giggles again and preens under their watchful eyes. They look at her like they want to tear her apart in the worst fucking way possible.
“Take Beta with you to release the prisoner. Black hood her, then take her into room three. It's battling babes, so you know what to do,” Crowe purrs, standing beside her in two strides.
His fingers dip below the mask, tracing her jawline with love and affection. If I could see her eyes, she’d be full-on gaga for her damn father. She sighs, giggling a small laugh, and nods.
“Let’s go, Beta,” she says dreamily.
Crowe grins more at her, pleased with his little puppet prancing toward the door in a love-sick daze. Fuck. So gross.
IfollowbesidePiperlike the good little soldier I’m pretending to be. My head may be held high, but my fucking heart bursts through my ribs as my mind anticipates this meeting. Sweat drips down my neck and in between my shoulder blades. Kaycee won’t see me, won’t know it’s me, but I’ll be by her side for just a moment. Whatever happens next, I need to help her in any way to ensure she doesn’t get hurt even worse.
“We go in,” Piper says, pulling keys from her pocket. “Undo the cuffs and then put this over her head. Then we take her down the hall. Once we are in the room, tie her to the pole, hands together tightly.” I nod in response without a word. Shoving a black sack into my hands, she twists the knob and walks in with a small giggle erupting from under her mask like she’s done this a million times. Hell, I bet they all have from the get-go. I wonder how many people Piper has killed since she stuck that knife deep into Magnolia and tossed her?
I close my eyes beneath the mask, trying to keep my dinner down in the depths of my churning stomach. Watching Kace through a screen in pain is one thing, but fucking walking into the torture room she’s in is another. And knowing I can’t do anything about it yet is slowly killing me on the inside.
