Page 41 of Brutal
We get to the doorway, and my heart skips a beat as I see other men there with women on their laps or on the floor, dressed as skimpily as I am.
All of them look terrified.
“Hey, Drake!” a man says, grinning widely. He walks over to us, and although his eyes rake over me, he doesn’t address me. “Glad to see you. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.” I notice he doesn’t have a woman at his side, which makes him one of very few who haven’t brought their own…
Prey, a voice supplies in the back of my mind. I try to ignore it, but it’s the only word I can think of.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Brutal says with a grin of his own. “Got something for me, Patrick?”
Patrick produces a little travel-sized bottle of what claims to be ibuprofen on the label, but I highly doubt that’s what’s inside. “What’s up with the sudden vacation?”
I’ve been wondering the same thing.
Brutal tenses, snatching the bottle away from Patrick and stuffing it into his pocket. “Just needed some time to myself.” He couldn’t radiate more defensiveness if he tried. He tries to recover by wrapping his arm around my shoulder and adding, “Got my new toy, right? I wanted to test her out, run her through her paces.”
I’d roll my eyes at the cliche phrasing, but I’m more worried about the entire situation.
Some of the other women in the room are crying softly. A few have their hands bound. I spot one or two with defiant looks in their eyes, one that I recognize. I’d looked like that, before I’d spent months “working” for Giulio Pavone.
I hope those women manage to keep the defiance, no matter how much the rich bastards of the world try to beat them down.
I know all too well just how hard it is to stay strong, though.
“She looks like she needs a little running,” Patrick agrees with a dark chuckle.
“Good thing she’ll get plenty of exercise tonight,” Brutal says, squeezing his arm painfully around my shoulders.
My feet are mostly healed, but I don’t think I’m going to enjoy running.
Maybe that’s the point, though. This is simply an extra cruelty Brutal is heaping upon me, because he can’t stand the idea that I might still have a few independent thoughts in my head.
Suddenly the lights dim, and somebody steps out onto the small stage on the far end of the room. She’s an older woman in elegant clothing, exuding confidence and power.
From her gleeful expression, I doubt she’s going to be sympathetic to any of the women here.
“Good evening, gentlemen! I’m so happy to see the large turnout for tonight.” She glances around the room and waits for the men to offer up mumbled greetings. “I know our regular members understand how things will go, but I thought I’d go over the rules for all the girls.” She laughs cruelly. “We want it to be a fair game, after all.”
What is it with Brutal and his fucked-up, twisted games?
Clearly someone didn’t play Monopoly as a child — or maybe he did, and that was where he learned to be cutthroat.
“Listen close, Mimi,” Brutal mutters in my ear.
Patrick crowds me from the other side, and I find myself more willing to press against Brutal than to let my side brush against his friend. At least Brutal is the devil I know, and someone supplying drugs to an already unstable man can’t be trusted.
“The ladies,” she pauses for a few snickers, “will get a head start through the maze.” She gestures behind her to a nondescript-looking door.
My stomach churns.
“The goal is, of course, to get to the other side. As you make your way through the labyrinth, you might find hiding spots that could buy you some time. You might find traps that will make you a sitting duck. There will be weapons for you to use, provided you can. A friendly suggestion: don’t pick them up if you don’t know what you’re doing with them because they can be used against you.”
The men start to shift impatiently, clearly ready for her explanation to be over, but she seems to be enjoying hearing herself talk because she continues.
“If you make it through the maze to the end, congratulations. You’ll be treated to a nice drink and a night off from your owners’ perversions!” Like they’re really going to let that happen. “But if you get caught? The only rule is that there are no rules,” she says.
She’s trying to make it sound like we have a chance, but I’m not delusional enough to believe that. This is a one-sided game designed to make us all lose.
I glance at some of the other women.