Sweet Retribution (Rydeville High Elite #3)(67)

He snorts as the elevator pings. “Charlie is a little boy thinking he’s playing in a man’s world, but he is outnumbered and outmaneuvered. If you’re counting on him to rescue you, you’ll be disappointed.” He removes my hand from his pants, dragging me out of the elevator by the wrist. We are at the top of the room, and the black curtain concealing the elevator to the house is on the right-hand side.

Denton bypasses it, bringing me to another door on the left. My heart is trying to beat a path out of my chest as I watch him type in the code. “Three six four five,” I whisper softly, hoping someone picks it up. I can scarcely breathe over the massive lump in my throat, barely hear over the pounding in my ears.

He pushes me into another corridor, and as the door clicks shut behind us, it feels prophetic.

“I’m putting the knife away now, Abigail, because I don’t want to embarrass you in front of all these important people. But know this. There is no way out of here without capture. If you try, it will only make things much worse for you.” He places his lower hand on my back, steering me forward.

“What is this place?” I ask even though Charlie already told me. I need to say it aloud, to ensure the guys have enough clues to find me before this shit goes south.

“This is the inner sanctum. A safe haven for high-ranking elite to let down their hair and enjoy the many pleasures your father has organized for them.” He presses a circular red button on the wall, and it parts, revealing a succession of glass windows. Bile swirls in my mouth as I look into each room, watching various men abusing women.

Panic gives rise to anger as we walk down the long corridor, and I see the same doped-up expression on the young girls’ faces.

There are older women here too. Some I recognize from the party. Some look like they are willing participants, but others look terrified, some are crying, and others are screaming and beating off men to no avail.

Denton chuckles. “Does that offend you, Abigail?”

“How would you feel if that was Alessandra or Isabella?” I ask, pointing to a room where four men are taking turns with a small, thin girl with underdeveloped boobs. One man is holding her wrists up over her head while the other two grope her body as the large man with the protruding belly rapes her.

“Disgusted they weren’t getting into the spirit of it more,” he says, shrugging. “But I don’t have to worry about either of my girls. They both fuck like pros.”

I really hope the guys are hearing this.

“See for yourself,” he adds, pinning my hands behind my back as he opens a door on the right-hand side.

This room is a large square, decorated in black and gold, with dim lighting and copious couches and beds littering the space. Every place I look, I see naked bodies and fucking. There are no kidnapped girls in here, and the only sounds are mutual moaning and groaning. Denton drags me through the room, and my heart rate elevates to heart attack territory.

Why the hell is no one speaking to me? Where are the reassurances from my guys that they are on the way to get me? I briefly worry that I somehow deactivated the communication chip, but it was fully functional when I came back into the house and he … Oh fuck. Shit. Denton grabbed my boob, and maybe he deactivated it. But that was after I’d said his name, so the guys have to know I’m in trouble.

But they might not know where you are.

And my hands are secured in Denton’s tight grip so I’ve no way of checking the communication chip without risking discovery. However, it feels warm to the touch, and Sawyer said that meant it was active, so I’m confused. It could be that my body temp is elevated, thanks to the mix of adrenaline and fear coursing through my system, or it means the chip is active.

But if that’s the case, why is no one speaking to me?

Panic explodes in my chest when I see them.

Trent and Alessandra.

As naked as the day they were born. Fucking like wild animals on the floor. It’s no surprise he doesn’t warrant a private room, and I’m guessing the other guests in here aren’t important enough to warrant one either.

“Trent.” Denton stands over the fornicating couple. “I have a present for you.” He shoves me forward.

Trent slams his cock into Alessandra, and she digs her nails into his ass, moaning as she grins at me.

“Fuck yeah,” he pants, glaring at me as he fucks the woman underneath him. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

“Not yet,” Alessandra rasps, thrusting her hips up and digging her heels into his ass.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Trent purrs, leaning down to drag her nipple between his teeth. “I’ll finish fucking you first.”

“You should take her ass,” Denton says, as if he wasn’t giving the bastard advice on how to fuck his daughter. “It’s nice and tight, and I’ve prepared her well.”

I can’t keep the horror off my face, and all three of them laugh.

“You’re right, Trent,” she says. “She is a stuck-up frigid bitch. I want to watch you break her down.”

“Baby.” Trent yanks her legs up to his shoulders. “I think we’re engaged to the wrong people. We should swap, because you feel like silk on my cock and I love your way of thinking.”

And what a stellar idea that is. Thank you, Trent. I smother a smile. I’m sure Drew could use the virginity clause to present an argument for breaking off the engagement to Alessandra.