Chapter Seventeen
Decked out in the formal clothing the company provided, we found the ballroom. I didn't even mind one bit because they gave Tara a red evening gown that hugged her body, exposed one of her shoulders and had a never ending slit up the side.
Shit caused my heart to sprout spiked wings and soar through my body until there was nothing but mush left and a sliver of will-power holding me upright. How would I survive seeing her in a wedding dress? I
'd need crutches to stand through it.
Becca had clearly never dressed in anything like that before and yet, she walked with the regal grace of a queen, seeming right at home in the deep purple dress, cut similarly to Tara
's except for the top consisted of a gather of material in a swoop over her chest. I wanted to be upset that Tara's was simpler, but she was too fucking gorgeous to complain.
We entered the room with Steve back to chaperone status, leading the way with confidence and authority, minus the occasional rabid scratching. I liked that side of him and he seemed to like it as well, his second nature. The ballroom had been set up for a formal dinner party, a long table at one end laden with glittering crystal and fragile china. Opposite, on a small raised dais next to the dance floor, a string quartet played soft music.
An usher announced our team and directed us toward the small bar set up not far from the table. The competition stood around in pairs and small groups, drinking and talking quietly, no doubt devising strategy. I glanced around, assessing the competitors with a borderline rude gaze. Preacher seemed to have the same idea in mind as we followed Steve, deliberately staring people down.
There were a few individuals in the crowd that caught my attention in a negative way. Three men to be exact. And maybe one of the women, if you could call the Titan looking female that. At well over six feet, she rivaled Preacher for sheer muscle mass.
The usher called for everyone to take their seats and silent wait-staff served the meal. We all ate the game dinner, and I was pretty damn sure the same nagging brick of anticipation bottomed out each stomach there. After an endless parade of food, the staff eventually took away the dessert plates and served coffee.
Finally, the fucking announcer came to a podium that had been placed by the musicians
' dais and tapped the microphone a few times, sending a screeching noise through the air as a large TV screen on the right wall went live, showing a huge audience of people watching a screen that displayed us in the ballroom.
The distinguished looking man at the podium leaned forward a bit and cleared his throat, flashing a game-show-host smile. “Good evening Dom Wars competitors!” His voice belonged to a game show as well, calling out a prize or trivia question.
"I would like to first congratulate you on your success thus far, and welcome you to the semi-final Gladiators' Dinner. Tonight, we are joined by a live audience, via live satellite feed, who have gathered at Gladiator Stadium to take part in the celebrations." Applause erupted on the TV screen and then everybody in the dining room followed suit, though not quite as eager.
The man leaned in again, signaling for silence.
"I know that you are anxious to get to the 'meat' of this dinner and find out who will be making it into the final round. So, without further delay, we will begin." Another round of applause that none of us participated in this time. "Our announcements will be a little different tonight, since we're moving into the Final Round." The man smiled and waited for the applause to die down.
At his signal, the lights in the ballroom dimmed and the screen changed to show a new location. A slightly familiar figure wearing camouflage stood on a deserted beach. The camera zoomed, slowing in to the man
's face until the sick feeling in the pit of my gut spread.
Oh fucking no. Jase Duff.
The bastard grinned at the camera. "Welcome to the Survival Round, competitors. The first team to make it to this beach, swim the half kilometer to the speedboat anchored on that sandbar you see offshore," the camera panned away to reveal a narrow strip of sand and a miniscule boat, "will win. There's a few catches. One, you'll have to navigate the jungle to get to this side. Two, I'm here. This is my island," he pointed to his chest, "And you will leave it over my. Dead. Body. I'm going to make your life a living hell. When I capture you, your teammates will have the option to ransom your release, or go on without you. And when I capture you all, I win." He gave a fake bow and authentic sneer. "Welcome to my world." He pointed at the screen. "I better see you here Bane!" The screen went black and dread pumped in place of my blood.
"
So there you have it ladies and gentleman. And it would seem that our Resident Sadist has a bone to pick with one of the contestants."
Applause on the screen erupted, showing that
's exactly what they wanted.
"
Now of course, we aren't going to send you off to a deserted island with no supplies. The points you earned in Round Five will purchase the items you'll need to survive the island." The screen flashed again, to show an assortment of survival gear. "Food and water. Shelter. Weapons. Comfort items." The announcer gave his trademark smile again. "Now, I supposed you'd like to know which teams will be advancing to the Final Round and how many points those teams will be taking with them?"
Applause erupted from the screen, which had gone back to the crowd. Glancing up, I was slightly startled to spot several signs among the spectators, waving above their heads.
'Lucian & Tara, True Love, True Dom'. Simply amazing. I touched Tara's hand and drew her attention to the screen. She covered her lips with her fingers, awestruck, as more signs began to appear.
"
Five teams earned enough points to advance. Of the other two, one technically earned the points, but because they broke a rule, have forfeited them. The other simply did not earn enough. The five advancing teams will have the opportunity to bid on, and purchase, these two teams, and add them to their supplies for the island. The catch is, if they buy a team, they will have to split the winnings."
Who in their right mind would buy a team? It would cost them needed points and decrease their winnings. Stupid.
The announcer continued and began introducing the qualifying teams. The German team, including the Titan woman, half stood and nodded to the room at large. Next came a Japanese team, with their stiffly formal bows. Preacher and Becca followed, smiling broadly. The Australian team waved and smiled.
Shit. One spot left. Tara squeezed my hand under the table. I knew we
'd scored points with Steve's funeral home sale, so what rule could we have broken?
The announcer gave a dramatic pause, then continued, introducing… the Columbian team.
Fuck! We lost?
On the screen, the crowd went wild. I finally made out the words they chanted.
"Lucian. Tara. Dominate. Lucian. Tara. Dominate." My throat turned into a huge lump with the mixture of emotions at seeing tears run freely down Tara's cheeks, no doubt in devastation. Steve sat stoic and silent for once.
As soon as the noise faded slightly, the announcer continued, offering the Icelandic team for auction. When there were no takers, my heart sank even further. We might as well get up and just walk out. It was over.
"The American Team, Lucian Bane and Tara Reese, joined by their chaperone, Steve Harrison, have broken another rule of the competition." The screen changed to show familiar footage of the bully cop throwing me against the wall. "By involving outside authorities and forcing Gladiator, Inc. to intervene on their behalf, they violated the secrecy clause of the contract." The screen went back to the stadium to show the outraged audience chanting even louder than before. "However! Due to this team's overwhelming popularity, and the immensity of their score, the judges have reached a decision. If any one of the final competing teams wishes to add this team to their own, they may do so without penalty, and for only half price, with bids of five percent increments. As well as they will be required to share the prize."
At the announcer
's cue, a spotlight moved from one team to the next. "Do we have a starting bid of half price?" I looked at the Preacher who sat with his head lowered, not looking at me. Of course he wouldn't look at me. He couldn't.
"
Bid offer going once… bid offer going twice… bid offer—"
The German woman raised her hand, and the crowd cheered.
"And we have a bidder!" the announcer said. "Will you look at that, ladies and gentleman, the German team has offered for the American team. If Lucian and Tara accept, they forfeit half of any possible winnings, and half their points for supplies. Madam, why are you taking this chance?"
The Titan woman stood and met a woman with a microphone, and spoke, her voice deep and heavy. The woman holding the microphone nodded
and turned to the announcer. "Helga asks that I translate. She will take the American Team to be bait for the Sadist."
My blood turned to ice.
"Holy moly, what ruthless strategy, ladies and gentlemen. Do we have any other bidders? Any other bidders out there?" He looked around. "Bid at half price, going once. Going twice—"
Preacher stood, and raised his hand much to the crowd
's delight. "Hahahahaaaa!” the announcer bellowed. “Will you look at that, ladies and gentlemen, the Preacher DOM has also offered to forfeit half his winnings and half of his points, plus five percent more, to help this couple into the next round." The crowd screamed, forcing the announcer to wait a moment.
"
Sir, could you tell us why you're doing this, when it is clearly no advantage to your team?"
A man from behind us, hurried over with a microphone
. He stood next to the Preacher Dom who lowered his head to the mic and shook the air with four boulder crushing words. "Because I fucking can."
The stadium crowd erupted in thunderous applause, chanting another name.
"Pre-acher! Pre-acher! Pre-acher!"
"
Any further bids for the favored American couple?" The announcer looked at the German team. "Going once? Going twice?" They shook their head and the announcer spun and pointed to the Preacher. "SOLD to the PREACHER DOM once again."
The crowds were beyond wild and the stadium full of Lucian and Tara banners. I stared at the Preacher, wondering why exactly, he
'd done it. Tara got up and hugged the Preacher, crying in joy, then hugged Becca. I took Tara in my embrace next and kissed her, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
"
And that concludes the Dom Wars Round Five dinner, ladies and gentlemen. The teams will have three days to prepare and will be staying at the Dom Wars Mansion to do so. Goodnight fans, and see you then."
The End
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