Cheers of encouragement filled the air as they hefted him over the side of the pool and into the water until all five of them were standing in the middle.
“Reaper, I’d take a deep breath if I were you.”
Gavin instinctively drew in a deep breath, then they pushed his face down just below the water’s surface while he struggled and fought against their restraining hands, hoping they’d lose their grips. They didn’t. They just held on tighter. His starved body tired much sooner than he expected.
Not only was his body giving up the fight, but his lungs were beginning to burn. How long had he been fighting them off? His struggles changed from trying to get away to just wanting to come up for air, knowing he had expended his reservoir of oxygen.
He now fought for survival.
As the burning in his lungs increased, Gavin was an experienced enough swimmer to know that unconsciousness wasn’t far away. He hung limply in their arms as the stark reality came to him that they hadn’t been betting on how long he could stay underwater but how long it would take him to drown.
His body rebelling, he started struggling to get fresh air again in a final bid to live. The water that he loved since childhood and had always been his sanctuary was going to be responsible for sending him to his grave. No, the water wasn’t responsible. It was Memphis, Crash, Vincent Bedford, and Slate.
Hatred fueled him, sending adrenaline rushing through his body in a last-ditch effort to live long enough to get revenge. Using every ounce of his strength, he managed to get a pair of hands off one arm long enough to get a brief gulp of air before he was held back under the water again.
His starved lungs burned like fire when he couldn’t get loose a second time. Even with the stark realization he was facing his death and would never marry Taylor or fix his relationship with Viper, he had no energy left. His body unable to fight made it easier for him by sending oblivion to the rescue, blanketing him in a welcoming darkness.
Hard thumps on his chest tore him from the darkness as he was turned to the side to vomit up the water he’d swallowed. Retching helplessly, Ink and Chain each grabbed an arm and hefted him up. Gavin could only hang there, suspended by Ink and Chain, as he regained his breath.
“Aspen, your time came the closest. Congratulations!” Slate called out. “Once Reaper is good to go, we’ll move the rest of the festivities inside. I hope you saved some money. Aspen and Butcher have already placed their bids on spending the rest of the evening with our champion here.”
Gavin shook his head to get his damp hair out his eyes. He saw Slate standing in front of him, pointing a camera at him. His earlier feeling of dread came whooshing back. Slate brazenly filmed him being drowned and was now auctioning him off.
Yanked upward, he was dragged back inside the house and into the bedroom with the basement door. Ink and Chain threw him facedown on the bed, and he immediately tried to fight them off, hearing the shuffling of several people entering the room.
One of them jerked the handcuffs higher up his back, pinning him down with a knee pressed against his spine. “Hurry, Butcher!”
Gavin turned his head, snarling at the man coming at him with a needle in his hand. The man stabbed him in the arm before he could jerk it away.
“Ink, you and Hock get him hooked up. No one outbid Aspen, so the rest of the night is his.”
Cloudy-green eyes stared down at him promisingly. “How about my bid?” Butcher asked Slate. “Don’t I get second dibs?”
“No, you get third.”
“I’ll take third.” Butcher turned gleeful.
“Aspen, you want him cock up or ass up?”
“Ass.”
Gavin was turned onto his stomach, facing the headboard. He thought his shoulders would dislocate as chains attached to the bedpost were wound through his arms, lifting them higher up his back. Meanwhile, other hands spread his thighs, tying his feet to the posts at the bottom of the bed.
“Why did you have to give him the juice? He’s not going to be able to escape tied the way he is.”
Gavin’s mind was going foggy, but he knew Butcher’s voice.
“Aspen doesn’t want to take the chance when his dick is on the line.” Slate’s voice faded in and out as the drug coursed through his blood stream. “Go ahead, Aspen. This your show.”
Gavin jerked at the first strike to his ass. By the time the belt was thrown beside his head, he couldn’t feel anything, nor did he when he was raped by one, then by another, each heaving over him.
Staring sightlessly out the window, he was forced to look out at the dark night as he endured their torture. The third one took his turn as the sun was coming up. That was when the drug was losing its effectiveness. He felt everything Butcher did to him, and he knew Butcher was aware, which was why he had been so excited to go last. Or, that’s what he thought until he saw Slate hand the camera over to Ink. He took his turn, driving into him with a hatred that finally made him unable to hold back his screams.