“A buyer?” the word comes across my lips, rough and low.
Her eyes slide over to meet mine. “They’re selling us as living blood bags.”
All of my organs drop out. The world tilts just a little. And my entire body feels cold.
“There were four of them two weeks ago,” the woman continues to explain. “Two of them have sold. The buyer is coming for him tomorrow.” She nods her head toward the man across from her.
“How do you know that?” Ares questions.
“They like to talk,” the woman says, the disgust unhidden from her voice. “Sick fucks. I think they just like making everyone afraid. To make a horrific situation worse. But they don’t lie. Everything they’ve said, it happens.”
“Please,” the man says, desperation rising in his tone. “Get me out of here. Please. I can’t do this. I can’t be some vampire’s living dinner, day after day!”
Ares holds a hand up to him, silencing him temporarily. “You said you’re an exchange,” he says, his dark eyes fixed on her. “What do you mean by that?”
I swear the air is ten degrees colder with that frigid stare of hers. “I was sold to a politician who happens to have fangs two months ago. He kept me in this room. Fed me. Made sure I was always hydrated. Gave me books to read so I didn’t die from boredom.” The sarcasm and hatred are thick in her tone. “But for some reason, he decided he didn’t like the taste of me. Theboss told him he could exchange me. She’s going as my replacement in three days.”
The redheaded woman lets out a sob, turning away from the bars as she laces her fingers into her dirty hair.
“The boss,” Ares says, his voice growing rougher by the moment. “You know his name?”
“Toby and Keiran call him Al,” the woman answers.
It only takes two seconds for it to sink in.
Augustus Lonan. Al.
Fuck.
Augustus is harvesting people at the Red parties. And then he’s trafficking them to vampires.
“Do you recognize this woman?” I ask, yanking my phone from my pocket. I take five seconds to scroll through my pictures until I find the one of Ophelia I was showing off at the party I attended. I walk across to the woman, holding it up for her to see.
She only shakes her head.
I move to the man, displaying Ophelia’s picture.
“Maybe,” he says. “There was some blonde woman in that cell on the end when I first got here. She didn’t say much, and she was only here for a few hours.”
My stomach quivers. I walk down the row, showing the other woman the picture on my phone.
She nods. “That was her,” she says, her eyes welling with tears. “Like Nick said, she didn’t say much. But she was right across from me.”
Shit.
Shit.
“Ophelia was here,” I say, turning to Ares. The backs of myeyes are burning. My stomach turns. I feel like I’m going to throw up. “She was here. And that motherfucker sold her!”
Ares crosses to me in two long strides. He grabs my wrists, and I realize I was about to slam my fist into the metal bars. “We’ll find her, Vengeance,” he says, his tone low. “At least now we know she isn’t dead.”
“Don’t count on it,” the brunette says. “Not all of these bastards have very good control.”
A tear breaks free from my eyes, racing down my face.
“We will find her,” Ares says as he stares into my swimming eyes. “There will be a record. Al will have buried it good, hidden it well. But there will be a record. And we’ll get Ophelia back.”
For the first time since I got all wrapped up in this, for the first time since I realized Ophelia was missing, I want to break. I want to shatter.
