Unshackle (Deliver #7) - Pam Godwin Page 0,12

abusing others.”

“Is that supposed to be a revelation?”

“Not at all. What strikes me is how we try to normalize the barbaric behavior.” He gestured around them. “The formal clothing, fine dining, soft music, classy cocktails, and let’s not forget this…” He tapped the black steel railing built to withstand a mob. “This keeps us safely on the side of superiority, separated from the subhumans fighting below. As long as we keep to this side and surround ourselves with expensive things, we can remain desensitized to what’s actually happening.”

He glanced at the throng of desensitized monsters who trafficked innocents, bet on blood sports, and grew hard at the prospect of rape and murder.

Returning to Vera, he waited for something to click in her eyes—a softening, a hint of agreement—but it didn’t come. Maybe he’d said too much, given too much away, but he needed to know if there was anything worth salvaging in Tula’s sister.

“If you have a point…” She crossed her arms. “Make it.”

“You entertain powerful guests, but if any of them stepped into that pit, their money, influence, power—none of it would save them.”

“Same could be said for you.”

“Wrong, darling. I’d win.”

“Really?” She sniffed, incredulous. “Because you keep yourself fit?”

“Sure.”

It was more than that. He and his entire team underwent extensive training. They knew how to shoot, fight, and fuck, among other skills they practiced on an on-going basis. He wanted her to know he wasn’t like her other guests, and not just because he had a pretty face. He needed her to walk away from this conversation thinking about everything he said until it consumed her.

Messing with her head was just another way to control her.

“Yet here you are,” she said, “standing on the safe side while casting hypocritical judgment on your peers.”

“Hypocrisy is the least of my sins.” He turned his attention back to the fight, his tone stoic and bored. “Put me in there. I’ll prove it.”

“It’s not allowed.”

Of course not. He would end the fight. The girl wouldn’t die, and all bets would be off. Where was the fun in that?

“Who’s the male opponent?” he asked.

“A new recruit.”

His chest constricted.

New cartel members were required to do all sorts of horrific things as part of their initiation. He’d heard of capos forcing initiates to eat children’s hearts to prove their loyalty. Talk about desensitizing a person.

If the kid lost this fight, he wouldn’t just lose his chance at joining the cartel. He would be shot dead.

Good riddance. One less enemy to deal with.

But from the kid’s perspective, the stakes were high. Too high to have any last-minute scruples about killing a girl.

Rivers of red dripped from her hair and face, staining her shirt. She managed to stay on her feet, but her balance was shit. Probably a concussion. She favored her left side, where she’d been hit in the ribs too many times.

The next strike sent her tumbling to the ground, and instead of regaining her stance, she rolled to her side and coughed a scarlet spray across the lawn.

Luke tensed, leaning over the railing as sweat gathered on his brow. She wasn’t getting up.

Time moved in slow motion, and a hush fell over the spectators, producing ringing in his ears.

The kid climbed over her and tackled the fly on her shorts. She slapped at his hands and tried to squirm away, her movements clumsy. But not defeated. She was still fighting, her growls loud and short of breath.

He wrestled the denim down her thighs, and she twisted, crawling on her stomach along the perimeter of garden lights. Keeping his grip on her shorts, he yanked them off and went for her underwear.

It would only take seconds to rip that flimsy barrier out of the way. He wrestled with her flailing limbs, eyes wild and teeth bared before he flipped her face-up and wrenched open her legs.

Luke seethed but managed to keep his posture relaxed.

You’re not here to help that girl.

Don’t expose your cover.

You.

Cannot.

Help.

Her.

Vera said something, her voice snatched away by the pounding in his head. His fists balled to the point of pain, but he held himself still, battling raging impulses.

The girl’s hand reached blindly for a solar light. Not the one closest to her. She stretched her fingers for the one above her head. What was she doing? They were staked in hard dirt and impossible to—

She pulled it out. As if seated in butter, the metal stake glided smoothly from the ground. He held his breath.

“Oh my God.” Vera’s hand came down on