Page 4 of Master A-0011
“There’s my June. So much better. I found David. I have him waiting for you.”
“You found him?”
“I did, and after you kill him tonight, there will be no more nightmares. I forbid you have them. You don’t fear me. You need me. You can’t go a single day without me crossing your mind. That’s how it is with friends. That’s why you call me on Wednesdays and Saturdays when your husband is at his meetings.”
“I don’t…fear you.”
“No. And you don’t forget to call me either. You know I need you.”His volume dropped and there was an intoxicating pull as his words continued. I blinked through the slightly dazed feeling, not sure I should continue to listen.“What is your name?”
“June Vaughn-Rivera.”
“And?”
“I’m strong. I’m his.”
“Yes you are.”Another snap.More foreign words. Louder this time.“What do you think, Rhett? I have David here for you. Are you ready to have some fun?”
“You have that motherfucker here? Oh, hell yes. I want him.”
“Good. I’ll have them deliver David to your apartment. I want to hear all about your night over breakfast.” A pause. “June…you take the lead. Make the bastard pay for hurting you. You and your husband do this together.”
“Gladly.”
No soft tone from her anymore. No monotone response. I stepped back from the wall, gazing at it with a sense of pride in my friend, wander…and curiosity. Laughter started up again and I managed to force my attention to the stage. But I never stopped looking at the wall or wondering exactly what was going on between the three of them. Elec had his motives for everything, but they were always in our best interest. What was his interest in Rhett Rivera? He was an elite like me, but he’d turned his back on his family a decade ago. Apparently, he was back in our circle, and if I had to guess from what I just heard,maybe his return hadn’t necessarily been by choice.
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“God, how long do you think this one will last? A day? Two? It’s hideous.”
One of the guards laughed as I was pushed through the front door of an apartment.
“Two days? No way she’s living through the night. Master Eleven was only thinking of one thing when he hit the button and bought her.”
“Murder.”
The word sent chills down my spine, but the guard hadn’t said it in the form of a question. He said it matter-of-factly, as if my fate was cemented in stone. And maybe it was.
“What? Murder? You’re joking.” I turned seeing the taller, dark-haired guard push the other’s shoulder. “She wishes. Food, stupid.”
“Food? Look at her, she’s a freak. What the hell are you talking about, Moore?”
Brown eyes from the shorter, blonde guard narrowed as he took in Moore, whose stare came back to me. There was no amusement or even much emotion on his face.
“Food, Bettis.As in food.”
“Oh, I get it…. because he’s going to eat her alive.” The knowing smile dropped. “Eww, you don’t mean like eat her, sexually, right? That’s just gross. Or do you think he’s into that twisted shit?”
“Are you fucking twelve years old? How did you even make it down here?” The taller guard pointed to the door on the far side of the living room. “Get in the bedroom,crow?i, and take your position at the back wall.”
“I bet he’s into fucking the slaves to death. I bet tonight he buys the most gorgeous slave there is. That’s who he wants. Not this one. Not for that. This crow must be his fun. Like a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am sort of thing but not with sex. A quick, rage kill. I take back my previous statement. Not two days. Definitely tonight. Then he can have all the hot slaves he can dream of.”
“You’re such a moron, Bettis. You know nothing. Ethan O’Brien is not who you think he is.”
I stumbled at the name, barely catching myself as I continued through the living area. To say I was clueless of my fate was stupid. Even secluded for most of the time, I had had months to adjust to the stories whispered through the crow’s cells. Auctions. Torture. Stories that nightmares were made of. But Ethan O’Brien? Hollywood heartthrob, Ethan O’Brien? Hadn’t I seen all of his movies? Hadn’t I had the biggest crush on him, growing up? Ethan…really?
Of course, Ethan. It would make sense. He did have money, and if the rumors were true, the rich were paying to kill us off. But me? Why would he want to kill me?
“I’m not a Moore-on, you are.” The smaller guard laughed at his own joke, making another sound of disgust as I glanced back at them. “I want to go back to guarding the b’s. Look at this one. Her face is bad enough. Do you see the bottom of her neck by her shoulder? There’s a hole there. Or a dip, like a chunk. It’s allscarred up. Like…there’s a piece missing. How are you even still alive?”