Page 30 of Chained

Percy steps forward, waiting to claim his prize. But the redhead stands in front, shielding the others from him.

"I'll go—take me." Her voice is firm despite her body trembling.

Percy lets out a disgusting laugh, his stomach vibrating as he howls. "You're a little too old for my taste."

Her head snaps to Vincent. "Please, I'll go instead of her. Don't let him do this." Her pleas are useless, especially to Vincent. All she's doing is encouraging this more. He ignores her, nodding to the guards who step forward, their hands prying the young girl from the others' arms, the screams that fill the room ringing in my ears.

"You're cowards, the lot of you!" the redhead screams as she throws herself at the guards, thrashing, kicking, and punching her way through them. Refusing to let them near this girl—I have to admire her. She's dead either way, but she's admirable.

Vincent stands now, striding across to the redhead, his hand reaching out and gripping her by the throat.

"Do it," she spits at him, her saliva sliding on his cheek, but he doesn't flinch. He lets it drip as he squeezes tighter, lifting her off the ground as her hands grip at his wrists, her nails digging in.

I hold my breath, waiting for the sound of her neck snapping—but it doesn't come. Instead, he laughs.

"You have fire in you, girl. I admire that in a woman."

"Shame you aren't a man, so I have nothing to admire back." Her words are laced with venom as she splutters, her breath uneven as his hand holds her throat. The blood rushes to her eyes, causing them to go bloodshot.

"Then what am I?" Vincent tilts his head, waiting for a response. He lets her go, dropping her to the floor. She splutters, clutching her throat as she inhales and exhales, desperately trying to breathe in as much oxygen as she can.

Don't answer him. Don't take the bait.

"You? You're nothing but a fucking predator in a suit." Her voice is higher in pitch as she slowly stands back on her feet, the bruising already making its mark on her throat as she stands her ground, squaring up to Vincent.

She's dead. She just signed her own fucking death certificate.

"A predator whose only way to get women to sleep with him is to fucking drug them and force himself between their fucking thighs."

The room goes silent, bar the sound of the young girl's sobs and the redhead's elevated breathing. I know how this is going to end. She's a dead girl. But I can't stop watching how this plays out—no one stands up to Vincent. Not like this.

He laughs, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb as he watches her before quickly striking her with the back of his hand, the slap loud as her head snaps to the left, forcing her to lose her balance and fall to the floor.

"You think you can disrespect me?" Vincent's voice is full of anger—it's shaking. He towers over her, balling her hair into his fists as he forces her to look at him, her lip split and bleeding as she does, a tear streaking down her face. She doesn't answer him.

"I said, you think you can fucking—" His head connects with her nose, the sound crunching against his forehead as he pulls it back. Blood sprays across his face as her nose bursts open. She lets out a scream, her hands rushing to cover her nose and conceal the bleeding.

The other girl drops to her side, whilst the girl whose eyes are fixed into my fucking brain holds her hand up to Vincent. "Please, enough." Her voice is soft as she pleads with him, her hand placed gently against his chest. He doesn't move for a second; he's just as captivated by her as I am.

But it doesn't last. He slips out a dagger out of his suit jacket and places it against the girl's throat, her dark curls spilling over her shoulders. Her gaze flicks back to mine, and we keep it. Vincent presses the dagger tip against her throat, enough that it nicks her, a small droplet of blood forming at the end.

"I decide when it's enough. Now move."

She doesn't say anything, she nods and steps aside. The redhead sobs into her hands as her nose pours blood over the wood floor.

Vincent tuts as he bends down, slicking a finger through her blood and holding it up to show her. "Look at the mess you've made."

Her gaze lowers as he stands, his hands placed behind his back, but the dagger still firmly in his grasp.

"We have one rule here. Comply or die," he calls out. It's a threat for the girls and a reminder to us to obey his every command.

He turns again. "Bring her to me," he instructs the guards, who cross the room with haste, bending down to pick the girl up and drag her to Vincent. His eyes are on her, lingering on the bare flesh of her breasts that are stained with blood.

"Did you comply?" he whispers softly, his gaze matching his tone, almost like he's talking to a lover rather than a girl he's just attacked.

She doesn't reply. His hands move to her face, fingers gently stroking her cheek.

"Not so brave now, are we…"