CHAPTER 004

Nyssa's POV:

The chill of the mid-night air did nothing to ease the nausea knotting my stomach as I was half-dragged forward, my wrists tightly bound before me.

My legs throbbed painfully after hours spent curled up on the cold warehouse floor, my throat raw from weeping, yet no one showed an ounce of sympathy or even a glance in my direction.

The men who had torn me from my home now shoved me into the rear of a blacked-out van, my body cramped between two other trembling girls who shared the same wide-eyed, bone-deep terror I felt. The van stinks with the stench of sweat and fear.

I struggled to swallow past the lump in my throat, my mind screaming at me to resist, to flee—yet there was nowhere to escape, no sanctuary. I realized this the moment my own mother turned her back and allowed them to take me away.

She had chosen herself over me.

A fierce sting of betrayal clenched my chest, stealing my breath.

The journey dragged on in silence, broken only by the occasional sniffle from the other girls. I had no idea where we were headed, but the atmosphere was suffocating. My fists clenched tightly, nails digging into my palms. I had to remain strong. I had to keep thinking.

Suddenly, the van screeched to a halt. The doors were thrown open, and rough hands hauled me and the other girls into the blinding lights.

My legs wobbled, but I was pushed forward alongside the others. As my eyes adjusted, my heart nearly stopped at the sight before me.

An enormous arena unfolded ahead, encircled by glass walls and filled with tiers of elaborately dressed spectators. It resembled a twisted coliseum, but we were not fighters battling for survival—we were trophies on display for the amusement of the rich.

The grim truth hit me.

We were being sold.

My breath caught as my fingers dug deeper into my palms in a desperate attempt to suppress the swelling panic. The other girls huddled together nearby, their faces ghostly with fear.

One by one, the girls were forced onto a raised platform inside the glasses at the arena’s center, bodies exposed beneath harsh spotlights.

Each time, the crowd responded with their hands signaling bids.

I felt sick. My heart pounded loudly in my ears.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t allow myself to be auctioned like livestock.

I spun around, desperate to run.

My feet hardly shifted when a forceful hand seized the back of my neck, pushing me forward abruptly. I gasped, struggling against the unyielding grip, but it was futile.

“Your turn,” a harsh voice taunted.

I was dragged toward the podium while my opponent was met with nothing but amusement. As I was thrust into the spotlight at the center of the stage, my breath caught sharply.

The dress they had forced me into was humiliating—a tight, scant garment that barely covered me. I felt the weight of hundreds of eyes on me, as if they were undressing me with their gazes.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, soon followed by an approving hum. Wrapping my arms around myself to cover what little the dress hid, I only seemed to encourage them further.

Then the bidding began.

“Five hundred thousand!” a voice called out from the crowd.

“Seven hundred thousand!” another responded.

I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting with nausea as the bids climbed higher and higher. The air grew stifling, my head spinning. How did my life come to this? From being a daughter—a girl meant to be cherished and protected—to now, being auctioned to the highest bidder?

Yet among the bidders, one man at the front row remained still.

Seated at the front, his large frame reclined in his chair, his face obscured behind a sleek black mask. He exuded authority; his presence alone commanded the room's attention. Unlike the others, he neither raised his hand nor uttered a word.

Still, I felt his gaze fixed on me.

A chill ran down my spine.

The bidding war escalated, the numbers climbing beyond what I could fathom.

“One million!”

“Two million!”

The crowd collectively relented as the price soared, and my stomach lurched with every ascending bid. I wanted to scream, to run, to wake from this nightmare.

Then, for the first time all evening, the masked man stirred.

He lifted a single hand.

Silence fell.

The entire room seemed to hold its breath, as if all the air had vanished; even the auctioneer paused before clearing his throat.

“Ten million.” His voice cut cold as he shouted his offer.

Silence followed.

No one else dared speak.

No one else made a move.

My heart hammered painfully in my chest.

The gavel struck the podium. “Sold! next stage of audition!”

The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave, nearly causing my knees to give way.

At first, the masked man seemed remarkably helpless as he got up to his feet. I had been holding my breath as he turned and slowly began walking towards the door. He moved slowly and deliberate.

A pair of guards came at my elbows and closed their hands around my arms like a vice as they pulled me up off the stage.

Panic bit at my chest, " Wait! Where are you going? "

No one answered.

I tried to resist, frenzied, desperate, but they held with brutality, and the people watching were distractedly interested in me being dragged past the hall into another private room, more secured than the room I had just left.

I was terrified and confused in my mind as the heavy doors shut behind us, swallowing me into an unknown future. I couldn't get the eerily feeling of the mask man who had taken me to the next stage for two million dollars. I scanned the room quietly until my eyes landed on him.

He is here.

As I took in the view of the entire room, in that moment, I knew— My nightmare had just begun when I realized I had made it to the final stay of being auctioned to the highest bidder.