These Vicious Games (Seattle Undeground)

Chapter 1

“My whole life has been one prolonged hunt.”-General Zaroff, The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell

Why is my taste in men so horrible?

Who brings their fiancée to an underground gambling ring as a date? Joseph, that’s who.

What was supposed to be a romantic evening has turned into a little gambling session. Maybe little is the wrong word considering how high the stakes are. My fiancé has a gambling problem, but his daddy is rich and always gets him out of it. And from the look on Joseph's face, a call to daddy isn’t too far off.

I’m sure most wonder how I ended up with a douche like Joseph, but the answer is simple, because he made life easy.

Not that life hasn’t been easy. My aunt and uncle have tried their best to provide the very best life has to offer , but poverty is something I couldn't seem to escape, no matter who I lived with.

Nothing changes the missing memories. I can’t even picture my mother and definitely not my father since, from what I’ve been told, he dipped out before my first breath. I know I had a mother for fifteen years but tragedy struck and made me forget everything before fifteen.

At first, the attention from Joseph was nice. Lavish gifts and all the right words. But over the years, he’s become…philandering . I simply turn a blind eye because I’ve never known anything better. I’m willing to live my life like this. I don’t want to go back to what I knew before. Even when he fucks me and calls me his poor charity case, it’s still better than any night on the street.

“Charity Case, bring me another drink,” Joseph hisses at me.

I stifle a yawn as I lean against the back wall of the room, taking it all in and ignoring his rambling. This room is like every other underground gambling room, but something is different. I can’t fight off the goosebumps, the instinct that I need to get the hell out of here. But I chalk it up to being around literal criminals.

The crowd even looks the same, except for the man slouched in his chair, as if wasting millions of dollars is no hardship. He looks relaxed. Dark brown hair, almost black, hangs loosely to one side of his face, blocking his left eye. His right eye is visible, showing the intricate scar that starts right under the corner of his eyes and travels down his cheek, disappearing around his sharp jaw. Another one slashes from the corner of his lips and plunges to his ear. And a small one that breaks off at his jaw and travels down his throat. The raised, jagged scar highlights his forest green eyes, and the pitiless depth in them. His shoulders are broad under a black dress shirt that is unbuttoned slightly, exposing a strong neck with a thin gold chain. I can’t tell much about the rest of his body from the way he’s slouched down. He appears small, but I highly doubt that. I know an act when I see one, I’ve been performing them for years. I pull my eyes back to Joseph who has one of the topless servers in his lap, stroking her nipple. I take a sip of my drink, bored out of my mind.

Would he care if I went and sat in one of the many available laps? I want to say no, that double standards aren’t our thing, but I know he’d lose it.

“I have tons of money; money means nothing to me.” My eyes draw me back to the voice that sounds like gravel and has the same roughness against my skin as his words hit me. “Let’s play for…” the scarred man raps his knuckles on the table, his eyes flying to mine, causing my entire body to freeze and my heart rate to spike. “Her.”

Joseph looks over his shoulder, jaw clenching when he sees me. “She’s not worth much, let me get you something worth your time.”

The words sting, as if he’s physically hit me. I remind myself he’s just saying that so the guy wouldn’t want me, but maybe he isn’t. Maybe I’m not worth much.

The man shakes his head, “Her life or yours. We both know you don’t have enough to cover your losses tonight and daddy’s money isn’t going to cut it for me. You win this hand, debt wiped, you keep your little fiancée.” The man’s lips stretch into a wide, scary grin. And beyond the fear, the wobble in my knees, all I can think of is how beautiful he is. “If I win, I get the girl or your life. What will it be, Joseph?”

My legs tremble in my heels as I take a step closer to the table to watch my fate. I can feel eyes on me from all directions, but I ignore them as both men flip their hands over, exposing the cards. My hand shakes on the table as I sink to my knees, my eyes wide in shock and disbelief.

A royal flush.

I look over to Joseph, my eyes trying to catch his, but he won’t even look at me. A chair scrapes back, and I look over, the scarred man seems to have doubled in height and build as he stands, towering over the room in an all-black suit minus the jacket. Everything about him screams power. From the physical attributes of his body to the way the room seems to cower under him. His green eyes whip to me and he snaps his fingers.

I feel a small pinch to the neck, my eyesight darkening as he gets closer, his arms reaching for me.

I should be scared, but for some reason, I’m not.

Blackness.

My body aches, my mind is fuzzy as I try to blink my crusted eyes open. I try to stretch my arms, to relieve the tension but my hands hit against something metal.

Gambling.

The bet.

Fucking Joseph.

My eyes peel open, and I flinch as they burn. My view is obstructed by metal bars, but I can make out a figure sitting next to a fireplace in a vintage chair. The embers of the fire are the only light in the room. A trail of smoke wafts from the chair and then I see the outline of a cigar in the silhouette’s hand.

I try to swallow, try to scream, but my throat is so dry, I can’t. All I can do is watch him as he watches me.

Something about the action causes goosebumps to prick my skin, my heartbeat to accelerate and something a little dark to trickle into my system.

“Why?” I whisper, or I think I do, my throat is so raw I can’t be sure if any noise was released.

The silhouette rises, his steps soft on the black and white rug that’s oddly not of this time but not the colors of another time. His hand slips into his pocket, pulling out something like a pen, maybe? I can’t be sure. He bends, dark eyes looking at mine. They’re so dead and cold, not a sparkle or hint of life. His hand reaches into the cage, causing me to flinch away.

When the pinch comes to my neck, my mouth parts on a gasp, a single tear leaking out of my eye.

“Why, is the least of your worries,” I think I heard him say. Right before I black out once again.