CHAPTER 006

Roman POV:

As she collapsed without warning, a sudden wave of tension froze me in place, my eyes on her with an unyielding intensity.

I took in her limp form, the stillness around her profound, as warm breaths, barely noticeable beneath my mask, grazed my skin. Despite the dirt smudging her face, I couldn’t help but notice how remarkably beautiful she looked.

Gently, I withdrew the hand that had just cradled her neck, allowing her to lean entirely against me before I carefully lowered her onto the pavement just outside the arena.

Behind me, two of my men shifted uneasily, their expressions laced with worry.

“What’s the move with her, boss?” one inquired.

The arena was never my favored setting, but respect and authority required my attendance.

That evening, sitting among the elite in the exclusive front row reserved for the most powerful men—a circle I counted myself part of—I had chosen to purchase her.

Not on account of her captivating hazel eyes, the most striking feature she held, nor because of the fragile pallor of her face, marked by anxiousness and dread of the fate awaiting her.

No, my decision was purely driven by the fact that I could. I can own her.

I bought her to broadcast a clear signal to the other cartel leaders present: I had arrived, commanding respect and dominance wherever I appeared.

Pressing my lip between my teeth, I observed her unmoving figure, oblivious to the chaos surrounding us.

“Take her to the car. She’s coming back to the estate with us.”

The surprise etched across my men’s faces tightened my jaw into a hard line. No servant acquired at the arena had ever been taken to the Adams estate on the same night of purchase. They normally stayed in the warehouse until they were ready to serve until their lives ceased to belong to them.

But she was no ordinary case—fainting. The very night she was bought was unheard of.

For her, I was willing to bend the rules.

Striding forward decisively, my two men who answered only to me lifted the newly acquired servant and moved toward the vehicles that had brought us to the arena.

“What’s the plan for her? Last I heard, the Adams estate already has too many female servants. We don’t need another,” Paul, one of my most trusted men, said.

I turned to face him. As usual, he was composed, a man of few words with an inscrutable expression.

On nights like this, his quiet presence was invaluable—alert, thoughtful, and restrained. When he finally spoke, the intelligence in his tone and the depth of his gaze were unmistakable.

“I rarely visit the arena, Paul. But when I do, I refuse to be overlooked. I needed to remind everyone that I’m here.”

Paul exhaled, removing his hands from his pockets. The bulge beneath his jacket confirmed what I already knew—he was, as always, prepared.

He never left his side without his Glock.

“That’s a hefty sum to spend on a servant,” he remarked, his hands emphasizing the point.

“If spending eighty million was what it took to let everyone in that arena know I’m still in charge, I would have paid that and more.”

I locked eyes with him, noticing his uneasy nod of agreement.

My gaze shifted to the men, who had just placed the body of the hazel-eyed woman into the second car and now awaited my command.

But it was Paul who gave the orders, his voice cutting through the night air.

“You’ll follow behind us to the estate.”

He opened the door, and I slid into the backseat of the Ford EcoSport, sinking into its plush interior.

Minutes later, Paul revved the engine, speeding out of the arena grounds, tires screeching against the asphalt.

I turned to glance at the arena, which slowly disappeared in the rearview as we drove away. A nod of satisfaction settled in my chest—an unmatched feeling of triumph.

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NYSSA'S POV:

Dizziness overwhelmed me as I regained consciousness. I raised my hands to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight flooding the room.

I groaned, attempting to stand, but my body refused, forcing me back onto the bed. An IV pole stood nearby, delivering fluids through a tube inserted in my hand, restricting my movements.

Closing my eyes briefly, I allowed myself to adjust to the light and my surroundings.

When I opened them again, I squinted, taking in the room. It was unlike anywhere I had grown up—walls freshly painted white without a single stain.

The space was so large, it could have passed for both the bedroom and living room of the house where I’d once lived with my mother.

I coughed, sitting up as memories of the previous night flooded my mind—raw and unfiltered. I had been sold, to a masked stranger who, seconds later, seized my neck after our accidental collision.

Where am I? Who is this masked man who bought me?

My hands trembled from exhaustion and hunger as I swallowed hard, the pain inside me still deeply present.

The fact that the same woman who had carried me for nine months, my own mother, had just given me to a group of men who I didn't know without batting an eyelid was something I couldn't forget in a hurry.

Just as I attempted to stand up from the bed, the door opened.

As soon as I saw him, the thought of leaving the bed disappeared instantly. My leg quaking in fear, I stared at him, the air in the room charged with a tension that hadn't existed when he wasn't there.

The mask, ever present on his face, was like something out of a nightmare. I stared at him, struggling to breathe properly.

“Do you expect me to greet you first? Have you no manners?”

His voice, thunderous and intimidating, made me bow my head instantly. My heart clattered in my chest as I sought the words to reply.

Once again, the unanswered questions hovered before me.

Who was this masked, scary hunch of a man who had bought me for eighty million dollars?