Shiela's breath hitched as she scanned the room, taking in the sea of men reveling in the Bidding Hall. The air thrummed with their boisterous laughter, a symphony of sound that blended with the thumping music. Faces of all shapes and sizes, all ages, adorned with fancy clothes, filled her vision. They held beers and cigarettes, raising them in the air like toasts to a night of debauchery. Then, she saw it—her number flashing on the giant screens, a signal that her turn was next.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for the star of the night! The one everyone's been waiting for! La Cresta's goddess… Shiela Lockheart!” the emcee boomed, his voice a siren call that ignited a roar from the crowd.
Darkness filled the room, and when lights flickered back on, they focused solely on her. Her breath hitched, but she forced a smile.
She wasn't used to being the center of attention, especially in this revealing outfit. But with the weight of two fiery chains in her hands, she
