Page 16 of Bleed the Shadows
But I hadn’t expected it to be her.
Euphoria had blown through me like a cool breeze when she’d looked back at us. I’d recognized her instantly from all the surveillance Anton had done: her long black hair, sleek as the mane on a thoroughbred, high cheekbones, and bright blue eyes with their otherworldly glow.
She’d fetch a pretty penny in the cam rooms. Even more in Hungary.
Now she was right in front of me, finally tired out from the fight she’d given Anton, who was still struggling to catch his breath as he dragged her to her feet and slammed her body against the wall under a set of chains attached to the stone.
She was still fighting — or trying to — but Anton was almost two times her size and still strong despite his less than optimal physical condition and his bum leg.
He lifted her by the front of her leather jacket and slammed her against the stone a second time and she stopped struggling.
“Are you going to stand there or are you going to help?” Anton directed the question at Nick, who’d grown still as a stone during Anton’s struggle with the girl.
I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake in bringing him. It had been impossible to tell whether he had what it took to be a real-life player in our enterprise. You never knew with the online acolytes.
But now he moved toward Anton. “What do you want me to do?”
I dared to believe I’d chosen wisely when I heard the excitement in his voice.
“Get the cuffs on her,” Anton said.
The girl’s eyes spit icy fire at him, but her attempts to pull her hands away from Nick were futile. She was clearly exhausted, and, now that our intentions were clear, terrified. Plus Nick was younger and stronger than Anton, although the kid could use a little bulk.
“What about her feet?” Nick asked after cuffing her wrists.
“After the clothes,” Anton said, stepping away from the girl with something like relief.
I couldn’t blame him. He was getting too old for this shit. I could only hope Nick — or someone like him — might be a fittingreplacement someday soon, although truthfully, I wasn’t sure the men from America had what it took. They talked a big game but most of them were keyboard warriors, more than happy to spread the word but nowhere near fit enough — mentally or physically — to do the things that needed to be done to keep the Ethan Todd machine running.
Eastern European men were built different. The past was closer there. Their dominance in society still had a foothold, and they were more willing to put up a fight.
American men had ceded the fight to the whores and bitches and social justice warriors a long time ago and didn’t even seem to realize it except as a creeping suspicion that they didn’t matter anymore.
“Do I…?” Nick was clearly unsure how to proceed.
Anton sighed and reached for the girl’s T-shirt. It happened too quickly for her to put up a fight: just a tug of Anton’s giant hands and the shirt ripped down the middle, revealing the girl’s black bra.
He removed a folded knife from the pocket of his jeans and flicked it open.
Viggo, Brock, and Milo — the previous members of the Scream team — had filled us in on the Hunt’s marking custom, an added bonus in my book, and I felt the thrill of glee as Maeve’s eyes widened in fear.
This was what I relished most: control.
“Wait!” she said. “I’ve already been marked by the Butchers. I belong to them.”
Was it my imagination that she didn’t sound mad about it?
I stepped toward her and leaned in, saw her fear deepen as my masked face drew closer to hers. “Who said we’re marking you?”
I stepped back and nodded at Anton, who sliced her bra in the center with one clean stroke.
The fabric opened up to reveal her milky tits and pink nipples.
She gasped in surprise, like she couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t blame her. From all the research Anton had collected, it seemed like Maeve Haver had lived a normal life with a normal family.
Except for the dead-sister thing.
Anton reached for the button on her jeans and she started kicking and screaming, landing a blow to Anton’s bad leg before he turned to Nick.
