Maverick scans the room, turning so we can see inside. There's a small, square stage in the center, surrounded by folding chairs. In the corner closest to the stage, there are seven larger chairs, made from wood with thick cushions on the seats.
Spectators fill the seats, with what I assume are the bidders in the front row. Each man—and woman—there holds a small sign attached to a wooden handle.
Purge makes a face at seeing the women in attendance. Sick fucks—every one of them.
The man nods to a seat in the front, right at center stage. Mav sits down, and the man hands him a bidding paddle.
A loudspeaker sounds. A voice filters through. “Welcome to The Candy Palace, ladies and gentlemen! We have a fine assortment of treats for you today. I am confident there will be something for every taste.”
The audience claps politely. The sound of a door opening comes from out of the line of our sight, and bound and gaggedwomen and children are paraded onto the stage. My God—there are children there who can't be more than four years old!
I lean over to squeeze Purge’s hand. The poor boy is positively green.
I count the prisoners on stage. There are five women, and five children. The women are from somewhere in their teens to early thirties. The children are so young… the oldest maybe twelve.
Next, another door opens, and everyone present stands. Six men walk out proudly, acting like kings. Maverick turns his head so we can see.
“Fuck, fuck...” Purge whispers silently, clenching his fists.
Holy fucking shit. It's the Six’s fathers. Every one of them!
They move to the special chairs, settling in like they’re on thrones. I note the seventh chair is unoccupied.
I meet Purge’s eyes. He mouths “Seventh family?” I turn my palms up to signal I don’t know. It certainly is suspicious, and I’m starting to think there is merit behind this theory.
The loudspeaker comes on again. “Our first morsel isn’t fresh, but she is quite obedient and is easily trained. Turn slowly, dear.” The oldest-looking woman is ushered forward by a guard. She’s shaking with fear. She does as she’s told, turning around, then back. She's blonde with long, curly hair. Big eyes and pretty face. Tears streak her cheeks.
“Bidding starts at one hundred thousand.”
An older man in front with greying hair holds his paddle up.
“Anyone for one-fifty?”
Another younger man with blonde hair holds up his paddle.
“That’s one hundred and fifty. Anyone for one-seventy-five?”
No one else bids. “Going once... twice... sold to paddle three for one hundred and fifty thousand! Please collect your prize at the end of the auction.”
My stomach rumbles, nausea churning. I take a deep breath, knowing we have to watch the whole thing play out.
The next four women are sold quickly. The most bid was on the youngest girl, who was sold to a savage-looking man for seven hundred thousand.
“On to the prime selection! Feast your eyes on this succulent, fresh, tender meat!”
Everyone sits forward in their seats, excitement on their faces. Before the bidding begins, the hosts are introduced. Synn's father stands, moving to the stage. One of the guards hands him a microphone. Purge sucks in a surprised breath and I shush him again.
“I would like to personally welcome you all to The Candy Palace,” Synn’s father says. “I’m your host, Franco. Please enjoy the bidding, and the complimentary selections on the menus on the side of your seats.”
Synn's father retakes his seat with a smirk on his face. Purge looks on the verge of passing out. I pat him awkwardly on the back to steady him.
The oldest child is pushed forward. No more than twelve, he’s a scrawny, dirty thing. “The bidding starts at five hundred thousand,” the loudspeaker announces.
Three paddles raise in the air—two men, and one woman.
“Raise to six hundred thousand?”
All three stay steady.
