The Flesh Cartel #2: Auction by Rachel Haimowitz

Author:Rachel Haimowitz [Haimowitz, Rachel & Belleau, Heidi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00BQSGVF8
Published: 2013-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

chapter

four

hey were separated again.

T But God it had been good to see Dougie. A little bit gaunt, but clean and still with light in his eyes, not beaten yet. And not wearing that plug anymore, although Mat wasn’t sure how relieved he was on that point. Dougie was okay. There was still hope for them. They could still get out of this. Live to see the other side. He just didn’t know how. He wished he hadn’t put that razorblade down, but to have taken it after Dougie’s emphaticnowould have been a betrayal.

Two heavies frog-marched him down a different hall. Up a flight of stairs. Another hall. How big was this fucking place?

At last, they stopped in a room whose feel, if not its exact appearance, resembled the changing room before a fight. Except against one wall was a row of tall cages, just big enough for a single man to stand up in. Or a woman. Several of the cages already held an occupant, a placard on each door displaying a string of letters and numbers. A man dressed all in black, wearing a headset and holding a clipboard and a portable scanner, approached Mat when the guards walked him in. No words were exchanged, but clearly this was an old routine, because one of the guards wrenched Mat’s left arm out to the side and held it there while Clipboard Guy passed the scanner over the microchip buried beneath his skin. The man nodded, checked something off on his clipboard, and said, “Cage fourteen.”

36 They dragged Mat to an empty cage, unlocked it, and

shoved him inside. It was tiny—no bigger than a shower stall at a public gym—and barred on all four sides. The cage to his right held a beautiful girl, naked like all the people in cages, and so young he felt sick with fury just looking at her.

He hoped like fuck she was eighteen, but then, what did age of consent matter in a place whereconsentdidn’t matter?

The cage to his left was empty. He noticed one of his guards handing Clipboard Guy a bit

gag on their way out. Well, at least they hadn’t forced it on him yet.

“I’m Leslie,” the girl to his right said. She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, staring him right in the eye. She had an intense look about her for someone so young. It made a mockery of the pigtails they’d done her up in. “I just wanted you to know that. Then at least somebody does.”

He nodded solemnly. “Mathias. Carmichael.” The exchange seemed too weighty, too significant, to give her his nickname. “Do you know what they’re going to do with us?” “Kill us, hopefully.”

Mat swallowed back sudden tears and the urge to scold, to tell her not to talk like that, not to give up. Who was he to decide what someone else could or couldn’t bear? “How old are you?” he asked instead. He didn’t know why. He didn’twantto know.

“Not old enough for this shit.” And then she smiled.

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