Scarlet Addiction- A Russian Gang Dark Romance

ONE

Marlowe Sage Kunetsov

I fixed my eyes on the spot I found on the floor of the box truck. Every other spot was covered with the feet of eighty other captives.

The wooden floor was splintered and worn. I tried to think of all the ways that it had been used that made it this way. It proved sufficient distraction from the stinging pain that was coming from every inch of skin on my back. 

That was until the truck rode over a bump. My back connected with the corroded metal of the walls of the truck's cargo and I bit the inside of my cheek so hard that I feared it would bleed. 

There were a few groans around me. We were all tired. We had been driving for two hours and the driver was reckless. I had also been reckless the previous night. I had made a reckless decision to escape. It was not my fault. I wanted to escape being in this truck at all costs. 

I had failed miserably, and that was why I had all the injuries from the whip on my back. The welts and torn skin hurt like they were from hell. 

I looked at the girl beside me. Her head was bowed. Her hair covered her like a curtain. I was happy for her. Her hair was shielding her state of near nudity. 

I did not have that luxury. My hair had very intentionally been tied up both to punish me and to expose my back to everything that could possibly hurt or infect it. 

I took a deep breath and leaned my head back against the metal behind me. That was another mistake. My head slammed against the metal as the truck bounced over another bump. 

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered through the pain that seized my head. I wanted to adjust into a more comfortable position, but there was no guarantee that my position would not get worse. We were all crammed in here. The air was hot and it was almost difficult to breathe. 

The truck screeched to an abrupt halt and we all tumbled over each other as a result. I tried to stop myself from hitting the girl to my right. It resulted in the person on my left hitting me harder than she should have. 

I fell back against the metal wall behind me. It stung more than I could bear. Tears filled my eyes and my chest constricted. 

“Are you okay?” The girl on my left asked. I did not get a good look at her before the cargo doors were pulled open. 

Fresh, cold air rushed in. Some minutes before, it would have been a relief.

Now, all I could feel was the searing in my back and the terror I had been managing to keep in. We were here. I did not want to be here. 

I was going to be sold. I was going to be given to someone who was depraved enough to attend an event where humans like them were being auctioned. 

My tears flowed faster and I wished that the wounds on my back would get infected and I would die quickly. I did not want to be in the hands of any of these people. 

I tried to stop my tears. My head had throbbed the entire drive to this place and I did not want it to get worse. 

“How we feeling, girls?” I heard his voice. Killian. My body's immediate response to the sound of his voice was that of revulsion. He was the leader of every single person that was here. He was the person I had been sold to first after I had been kidnapped months before. He was the one that had ordered that I be whipped after I had been caught. He was the subject of my nightmares. 

There was no audible response to his question. He chuckled and nodded at the guards that had opened the doors. They opened them further apart. 

“Be careful with them. We don't want any more damaged goods,” he told them quietly.

I took a shaky breath and clenched my hands. I classified as a ‘damaged good’. I was injured, and if I recovered or survived this, my injuries would leave scars. 

“You're sweating,” the girl to my left spoke to me again. We were not supposed to be speaking to each other.

“So is every other person,” I dismissed her. I did not care if she thought I was mean. I did not want her to be hurt on my account. 

“You're sweating more than every other person,” she reached for my forehead.

“You're burning up,” she whispered, her eyes filled with concern. 

“I'm fine,” I responded curtly, wishing she would leave me alone. “You're not,” she persisted. One of the guards looked at us at that moment. My heart sank and I expected him to call it out. 

He looked away and I glared at her. It was the first time I was looking at her fully. She had blonde hair that would have glistened if we were all not so unhealthy, malnourished and dirty. 

“There is nothing you can do about it,” I intended for the words to come out more dismissively, but a wave of dizziness hit me. 

Just as she was about to speak again, one of the guards climbed into the cargo. 

I blinked rapidly to clear my blurry vision. Half of us had left the truck by the directions of the guards, and none of them had come in to direct anyone out. Blondie was in trouble. 

He grabbed her by her hair and tugged her to her feet. My throat tightened and my heart raced. 

“No, stop! She's ill,” she pointed at me. 

I looked at Killian. His eyes were already on me. He alternated his eyes between Blondie and I. The condescension and amusement on his face told me all I needed to know. 

“Killian–”

“Marlin,” he sighed, cutting me off. I did not bother correcting him. He always called me the wrong name. 

“I feel a little sick. I was telling her about it,” I lied in the most convincing way I could muster in my state. It was like a fog was starting to form in my head. 

My eyes darted to Blondie for a split second. She had tears in her eyes and she was looking at me like I was crazy. 

Killian looked at the guard holding her and angled his head in my direction. The guard let go of Blondie and reached for me. 

He grabbed my shoulders so aggressively that I felt one of the wounds on my back open further. I inhaled sharply. 

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Blondie cried, reaching for my hand as the guard pulled me past her. Her finger grazed mine and the guard tossed me off the truck. 

“Be careful with her,” Killian's voice was tense. I stayed on the ground. I opened my eyes but everything was blurry. I made out the figure of two boots standing in front of me. 

“You're one stubborn little bitch,” I heard Killian's voice faintly. “Just die already.”

I felt a needle prick the side of my neck. I stuffed and inhaled sharply. Fire spread from my neck to every part of my body, and black ink spilled in my vision. As it spread, all I could think of was my mother. 

How had she been living without me? Was I going to hell? Was I going to see my dad? 

Soon, I lost the ability to make thoughts and ask question, and the world ceased to exist. 

— — —

The world had not ceased to exist. I had not died, and I knew this because when I regained consciousness, I could hear the familiar sound of cheering and laughter. The auction had begun. 

I tried to move but my head was throbbing so bad that I felt like I would throw up. 

“Good, you're awake,” I heard Killian's voice. I looked at him as I raspily inhaled. “Clean her up.”

My mind blacked out and the next thing I knew, I was on a line, making my way to the back of the auction stage. Someone was holding me steady and asking if I was okay. 

I blacked out again and regained consciousness to the sight of a crowd in front of me. My blurry vision cleared and I heard a man announce a price. One so high, it made the crowd fall silent. 

I looked around me. I was the only slave left on

the stage. I inhaled sharply as the master of ceremony announced, “Sold.”

I had been sold.