Chapter four

ARABELLA POV

The Obsidian was far removed from the respectable image the Blue Moon Pack liked to display. It was an entertainment district filled with luxurious bars, gambling rooms, criminals, wealthy wolves, and dangerous strangers.

I did not belong there.

But I no longer felt as though I belonged anywhere.

Inside an exclusive bar, I drank until Adrian’s voice became muffled.

"She was only a toy."

I ordered another glass.

"She can become Celine’s servant."

I drank again until the room blurred.

But no amount of liquor could erase the expression on his face when he said it. He had not been angry. He had not been confused.

He had meant every word.

When a bartender mentioned an underground auction being held beneath the building, I followed the crowd downstairs without thinking.

The auction house was a place where goods, livestock, and sometimes… people… were sold. I walked inside, the smell of dust, sweat, and fear hitting me instantly. It was loud, chaotic, filled with shouting men and rough-looking buyers.

I moved through the crowd, my eyes scanning the cages lined up along the back wall—small, cramped, iron-barred boxes holding men and women, mostly prisoners or debtors, sold as servants or laborers. Most looked broken, tired, or ugly, worn down by hardship.

Then I saw him.

He was in the smallest cage at the very end, barely big enough for him to sit up straight. He was curled slightly, his head down, his face turned away. But even from here… he was breathtaking.

His hair was dark, thick and messy, falling over his forehead. His skin was pale, marred with dark bruises and cuts, dried blood crusted at the corner of his mouth and along his jawline. He wore only ragged trousers, his chest bare, showing lean, powerful muscles and more marks of recent violence. He looked like he had been beaten within an inch of his life.

And yet… he was beautiful. Like a fallen king, like a dark god dragged down from the heavens. There was something magnetic about him, something raw and powerful that drew my eyes and wouldn’t let go. He didn’t look broken like the others. He looked… dangerous. Proud. Even in a cage, even bruised and bleeding, he held himself like he was above everyone in this room.

He lifted his head slowly, and his eyes met mine—deep, dark, intense eyes that seemed to look straight through me, seeing every single crack in my heart. I felt a jolt run through me, something I had never felt with Austin, never felt with anyone. A pull. A strange, undeniable connection.

The auctioneer lifted his hammer and pointed toward the cage.

“Our next item is a nameless creature of unknown origin. He refuses to either speak or reveal his name. He has attacked every person who has attempted to control him, so bidders are advised to proceed with caution.”

A wolf near the front snorted. “Why sell him if he’s useless?”

“Because someone might be foolish enough to buy him,” the auctioneer replied.

The crowd roared with laughter.

The prisoner remained silent. He did not lower his head. He did not plead. He did not react to the insults. But I noticed the way his fingers curled slowly around the bars.

He was holding himself back.

I understood that better than anyone.

Everyone in that room had already decided what he was. A monster. A savage. A broken creature who deserved a cage because he could not—or would not—explain himself.

I knew what it felt like to be judged before anyone bothered to know the truth.

Perhaps that was why I could not look away.

“One hundred silver coins,” the auctioneer announced. “Who will begin?”

No one raised a hand.

“One hundred?”

Silence.

“Fifty?”

The crowd shifted uncomfortably, but no one made an offer.

The man’s eyes moved across the room, passing over every face that had laughed at him. His expression remained emotionless, but something about his silence felt heavier than anger.

He looked tired.

Not weak.

Tired.

I glanced down at the small pouch in my hand. It contained the last of my money—thirty silver coins. I had spent nearly everything else at the bar because I had wanted to drown Adrian’s words.

Thirty coins could barely buy a proper meal in this part of the city.

But the man in the cage had not eaten. His body was covered in wounds. If no one bought him, I had no idea what would happen next.

Would they return him to his previous owner?

Would they beat him for refusing to obey?

Would someone even crueler take him away?

Before I could think better of it, I lifted my hand.

“I’ll pay thirty.”

The hall went silent for one stunned second.

Then the laughter began.

“Thirty coins?” someone shouted.

“She’s drunk.”

“Why waste all that money on a worthless person?”

“Perhaps she wants a pet.”

Someone behind me shouted, “She must have been rejected by her lover!”

My face burned, but I refused to lower my hand.

The auctioneer looked at me, then at the prisoner. He clearly expected me to withdraw my bid.

“Thirty silver coins,” he repeated. “Do I hear thirty-five?”

No one answered.

He waited.

The prisoner finally turned his head and looked directly at me.

His eyes met mine, and the noise around us seemed to fade.

There was no gratitude in his expression. No trust.

Only suspicion.

He was waiting for me to reveal my cruelty.

I did not know why that hurt.

The auctioneer struck his hammer.

“Sold.”

The crowd laughed as the guards approached the cage.

One of them unlocked the door and reached inside. The prisoner moved so quickly that the guard stumbled backward with a frightened cry.

The second guard lifted his weapon.

“Don’t,” I said.

Everyone looked at me.

The prisoner was still standing inside the cage, his chains hanging from his wrists. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes had become deadly.

“Remove the restraints,” I ordered.

The auctioneer raised an eyebrow. “He may attack you.”

“He is injured.”

“He’s a beast. He's dangerous.”

“So am I.”

The words slipped out before I could reconsider them.

More laughter followed, but I ignored it.

The guards hesitated before unlocking the chains. When the metal fell away, angry red marks remained around his wrists.

He simply walked toward me.

He was much larger up close.

I had to tilt my head to look at him, and even then, I felt overwhelmed by his presence. He towered over me, broad and intimidating, yet he made no attempt to touch me.

The auctioneer held out his hand.

I counted my thirty coins into his palm.

The moment the final coin left my fingers, regret threatened to overwhelm me.

What had I done?

I had bought a nameless man who might even attack me the moment we were alone. I had spent my last money on someone I knew nothing about.

But when I looked at the bruises on his face, regret disappeared.

Perhaps I understood what it was like to be treated as though you were worthless.

“Come with me,” I beckoned.

His eyes narrowed.

I corrected myself immediately. “You don’t have to. I’m leaving now. You can follow me or go wherever you want.”

Something flickered in his eyes.

Then he followed.

Outside the auction hall, the driver nearly dropped his keys when he saw my companion.

“Miss Arabella…”

“Open the door.”

The man entered the vehicle without protest and sat across from me. He kept his face turned toward the window throughout the journey.

I tried not to stare, but questions crowded my mind.

Who was he?

Why had he been sold?

Why was his skin that strange color?

And why did he look at every movement I made as though he expected betrayal?

The ride was quiet.

Unlike the main pack house, my old estate stood beyond the central territory, surrounded by trees and a tall iron fence. It had been given to me by the Vale family years ago, though I had always suspected they were simply grateful to keep me away from them.

When we arrived, the servants gathered near the entrance. Their whispers started immediately.

“Where did she find him?”

“Is he even a wolf?”

“He looks cursed.”

I turned toward them.

“Prepare the guest room.”

Their whispers stopped.

The mysterious man watched me carefully.

“You are free to leave whenever you want,” I told him. “I did not buy you as a servant.”

His expression remained guarded.

“I only wanted to get you away from that place.”

He stared at me as if he had never heard such a thing before.

I led him into a guest room and brought him clean clothes. They were too small around his shoulders, but they were better than the torn garments hanging from his body.

Then I returned with warm water, bandages, and medicine.

When I approached him, he immediately stepped away.

“I won’t hurt you,” I promised.

He said nothing.

I placed everything on the table. “You can clean your wounds yourself.”

He continued watching me.

His distrust was almost tangible. He seemed convinced that every kindness concealed a command.

Finally, he took the cloth.

I turned away to give him privacy, though I could feel his eyes on my back.

When I returned, the bloody clothes had been removed, and fresh bandages covered his wounds. He was now wearing the clean shirt, though the fabric stretched tightly across his chest.

I ordered food and placed it before him.

At first, he did not touch it.

Then hunger overcame suspicion.

He ate slowly, keeping his eyes on me between every bite. When he finished, I brought him another plate without saying anything.

For the first time, his expression changed.

Only slightly.

But I saw it.

Surprise.

That night, I showed him the guest room and pointed toward the lock.

“You can lock the door from inside,” I said. “No one will enter without your permission.”

He glanced at me, suspicious and guarded.

I understood.

Kindness probably frightened him more than cruelty. Cruel people were predictable. They took what they wanted and never pretended otherwise.

He was waiting for the moment I revealed my true intentions.

But I had none.

I had not bought a servant.

I had brought home a wounded person.

And for the first time since entering my life, someone watched me without mocking my pain.

I closed the door and returned to my room.

Yet even after I lay down, I could feel his presence somewhere beyond the wall.

Silent. Watchful. Dangerous.

And completely unknown.