Patient B-2

Chapter Twenty-Six: Idalia

Entering the auction proved to be a simple task once again, though I know better than to assume the rest of the evening will unfold with equal ease. Whether WWA remains oblivious to my identity or if they're laying a trap for us, I cannot be certain. But one thing is clear: I am determined to glean some valuable information tonight, even if it means risking my life.

Walking alongside Wrath, his attire mirroring the opulence of my own, we proceed in silence. His quiet demeanor suits me just fine; I've never quite liked it all that much when men speak. Though it appears we share a common resolve, something I can appreciate: locating Avalyn and Aren at all costs.

Over an hour ago, I received a text from Jessie saying he was working on drafting the layout. Now, all that's left is to wait for him to bring it over so Wrath and I can start exploring the building together. As tempting as it is to forge ahead, I know it's safer to bide our time. I can't afford to wander around blind anymore, especially not in a place as dangerous and unpredictable as this. Patience may be difficult, but it's a necessary precaution if we're to navigate these treacherous waters unscathed.

While Jessie typically avoids such grand events, preferring to handle smaller, less conspicuous tasks for WWA, he has managed to secure access to the auction. I didn't pry into how he managed to get in; I'm just relieved he did. I doubt he'll draw much attention; after all, he's just one insignificant individual amidst a sea of faces.

I stand in the same place as I did last time with Avalyn, though this time with the lesser boyfriend. I observe as Wrath's eyes sweep over the crowd gathered on the balcony, their actions mirroring one another as they laugh and indulge in drinks. They're fools, all of them.

An hour has passed since the auction began, and we're still waiting patiently as Jessie works to procure the information we need. With every passing moment, my unease grows, amplified by the harrowing sight unfolding before us. Women filter on and off the stage, their fates determined by the highest bidder, while buyers come and go, each transaction sealing the fate of another unfortunate soul. The scene before me churns my stomach, filling me with a sense of helpless indignation. I despise feeling powerless, but for now, there's little I can do except maintain my composure and wait.

Once again, I scan the surroundings, searching in vain for any sign of an entrance to the balcony or a pathway to the backstage area. Frustration simmers beneath the surface as my suspicions are confirmed: the only feasible route to the back appears to be through the stage itself. Despite the temptation to rely on our speed and agility to race past unnoticed, the risks are too great. The likelihood of being seen is high, and even if we manage to evade detection, we would be venturing into the unknown without any semblance of a plan.

The importance of obtaining the layout becomes increasingly apparent, and I voice my concerns to Wrath. "He should be done soon; we wait until he delivers the layout before anything. We can't afford to make a move until we're fully educated on how to navigate and operate within this building."

I watch as he responds with a dramatic eye roll and an exaggerated huff, his theatrics prompting a sneer to curl my lip. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's unnecessary drama, and his antics are pushing my patience to its limits. It's almost amusing, in a twisted sort of way, to see him rivaling my own flair for the dramatic. But at this moment, it's more irritating than anything else.

Suddenly, my phone dings, and I instinctively reach into my purse to retrieve it.

J: Lobby.

I seize Wrath by the bicep, leaning in close as I whisper urgently, "He's in the lobby. I'll text you in a few."

With a brief nod from Wrath, I depart, swiftly weaving my way through the crowded hall. Keeping my head tilted down to avoid drawing attention, I navigate through the throngs of people with practiced ease. As I reach the lobby, the sight of the bustling crowd fails to surprise me. It's a sea of bodies, a cacophony of voices and movement that provides ample cover for my clandestine activities. I slip among the masses, grateful for the presence of large men whose imposing figures shield me from prying eyes.