AMELIA POV
15 minutes.
I scan the room quickly, tables filled to the brim with criminals from every corner of the globe. Some dressed in greasy shirts and too-tight pants and others in expensive suits and ball gowns. Shades of navy-blue spring about the room, in men's pocket squares and women's clutches and hairclips. As though, in this room of strangers, there were a common theme amongst a few.
I am led by Eugene through the maze of tables and toward Mr Parker. Having been assigned to his side for the night, thanks to his special request at our dinner, I am forced to take up position beside him.
His eyes roam my body appreciatively and I watch as he nods to Eugene in satisfaction. He won't be feeling too accomplished with his choices soon.
14 minutes.
The auctioneer takes the stage and begins his well-rehearsed speech on this most 'momentous occasion'.
"Our delectable items for sale tonight truly bring previous years to shame, ladies and gentlemen. We have gifts from all around the world. Have your paddles ready because you might just find yourself going home with more possessions then you imagined."
I grimace behind my mask at the hoots and laughs from the more rugged guests present. All nauseatingly excited to have their hands-on innocent people as property. Even Mr Parker beside me grins.
"Now up first we have the most exotic prize. All the way from Korea, this gem is quite the reward. Her... assets are particularly intriguing and will make a lovely addition to your... collections. Ladies and gentlemen, are we ready to see item number one?"
The crowd erupts into shouts of glee as I watch a few guards open the door to the basement where such auctioned personnel are kept for weeks prior.
11 minutes.
The auctioneer continues talking, riling up the crowd and I promise to cut his tongue out before ending his life.
However, I am interrupted from my thoughts when I see movement in the corner of my eye.
Jayce walks toward his father, and the world slows to a stop. The vibrant colours of the room morph to only shades of grey. My face turns ashen and I am oh so grateful for my disguise as this poor innocent sheep walks toward the slaughter.
He looks perfect in his suit, fit perfectly to his physique. But it's his curious and somewhat cautious eyes that catch me off guard. He has no clue.
He looks at me and I stop breathing. But only a second later does he look away, dismissive. My disguise sufficient enough to hide any recognisable feature from him.
I hear him whisper to his father, "why am I here? It's just an Auction, what am I meant to do?"
"Be patient son. All will be revealed soon."
8 minutes.
I force myself to look away, already marking Jayce's exact location so I can redirect my plans around him.
I let my eyes glaze the room lazily, ensuring every chess piece has fallen into place along the board.
I spy leering men, beer bellies toppling over clean, white dress shirts. I spot women with claws sharper than their male opponents. I see power and viciousness in every attendee. Every single one of them sizing up the others as they try to appear the most commanding, the most superior, the most powerful one in the room.
I square my shoulders and grin at their naivety.
As they leer and cheer for the auctioneer's speech, I bask in the soon-to-be spilt blood.
Soon, all those chess pieces, with so much potential, will topple to the floor under the rule of my game. This is no longer a match that can be salvaged. No longer a match they can win. This is my game.
5 minutes.
The auctioneer finally brings the first item to stage.
A strikingly gorgeous Korean woman dressed provocatively in a barely-there gold bikini. Her skin is drained of colour and her eyes unfocused under those all-too familiar bright lights.
Her shoulder-length caramel brown hair falls limply against her shoulders, caked in grease. Her limbs quake and rattle like a new-born deer's. Her knees knock together harshly as her body tries desperately not to fall victim to the drugs they had forced down her throat.
Her head rocks back and forth, the weight of it too heavy for her neck to hold as she is forced to parade across stage, the auctioneer still rattling off about her assets and physique.
"Look! Ladies and gentlemen, at those curves, the wondrous legs! Just imagine what you could do with those legs!"
"Spread em' for us baby!" A swaying man with a beer in his hand and a cigarette in the other screams at the stage.
I can feel Jayce stiffen from his position a meter away. I feel his bones creak and spine straighten. I can practically hear his blood scream injustice as it pumps wildly through his veins.
As though I were in his own body, I detect the harsh BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. of his heartbeat.
As the reality of this horrid place sinks in. His lineage and family's legacy revealed.
10 seconds.
He probably thinks that this is it. That he is now tainted with this event, forced to one day participate.
9
But no. Never. Not Jayce. Never will I allow the darkness to touch the glow of his soul.
8
My hands flutter gracefully to my waist, unassuming.
7
I feel the shift in the room, as attendees with blue pocket squares and navy accessories straighten their spines and shift their weight.
6
A tall, white man, once only known to me as a boy desperately seeking food from his benevolent teacher, now repays a debt long due. For the kindness of a 9-year-old girl who hid her dinner plate and snuck it into the dorm room of 20 kids she had beaten in combat that day.
5
A blonde born to a brothel but raised a fighter by a generous 16-year old all those years ago now enters a lethal calm, ready to call upon those ferocious skills.
4
Two dozen warriors position themselves around the room, blending into the shadows as they await the coming battle.
3
The pieces of my game fall into place, like droplets of water poised to hit the stone and ripple against the tile. So much potential in those droplets of water. Unassuming in their appearance, and yet they hold the ability to paint the stone, drench the streets.
2
And as the Korean girl – still adorning those same dazzling black eyes from when we were nine years old, fighting for dinner – straightens her spine, her feigned act of drugged-up-surrender melting from her shoulders, the droplets hit the floor.
1
Checkmate.
---
And so it begins...
YOU ARE READING
Her Shadows
Romance~ A World Painted Grey: Book 1 ~ Already incapacitated, I drag his limp body toward the smoking car. Fastening him back into his seat, seatbelt back in place. Then I grip his skull with my glove-clad hands and ram his head into the steering wheel. O...
