WHO DARES SELL MY WOMAN!

CHAPTER NINE

A man in a pristine white suit steps onto the stage. The auctioneer. He has a microphone and a practiced smile that makes my skin crawl.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he says, his voice booming through speakers. "Welcome to this evening's exclusive auction. We have exceptional products for you tonight."

Products.

I flinch at the word. We're not people to them. We're merchandise.

The crowd settles down, giving him their attention. Some pull out numbered paddles. Others simply watch with interest, sipping their drinks.

I look around again, still desperately hoping to spot Dante.

Nothing.

But what would he do if he were here anyway? a bitter voice in my head asks. He made it clear what I am to him. Nothing but collateral.

Still... some stupid, naive part of me believes he would save me. That despite his cruel words and his games, he wouldn't let me be sold off to a stranger.

Or maybe I just hope that because he's the only person I know in this entire country. The only familiar face in a nightmare.

Even if that face belongs to my captor.

"Our first product of the evening," the auctioneer announces.

The guards drag the first girl in line onto the stage. She's blonde, curvier than the others, pretty but terrified. She's shaking so hard the chains rattle.

"Bidding starts at fifty thousand dollars."

Silence.

Then one of the men in the front row starts laughing. "I wouldn't want such a heavy thing in my house. She looks like she eats too much."

Others join in the laughter. Cruel. Casual.

"Do you think this is a joke?" Another man calls out. "She looks like an animal I'd have to feed instead of her earning her keep."

More laughter ripples through the crowd.

The girl on stage is crying now, pleading in broken English. "Please, I work hard. I'm good worker. Please..."

"No bids?" The auctioneer's smile doesn't waver. "Very well."

He nods to the guards.

They grab the girl.

"No!" She screams. "No, please! Don't kill me! Please!"

They drag her off the stage through a side door. Her screams echo even after the door closes behind her.

Then silence.

No one in the audience flinches. They just go back to their conversations, their champagne, like they didn't just watch someone be dragged to their death.

Like they've seen this too many times to care anymore.

I feel bile rise in my throat.

That could be me. That's going to be me if no one bids.

"Apologies for that disappointment," the auctioneer says smoothly. "But I assure you, our second product is much more promising."

The guards drag the girl in front of me onto the stage. She's brunette, slender, with delicate features. She keeps her eyes down, trembling but not resisting.

"Bidding starts at one hundred thousand dollars."

"One hundred twenty thousand." A paddle goes up almost immediately.

"One hundred fifty thousand."

"Two hundred thousand." A woman this time. Older, elegant, with cold eyes.

"Two hundred thousand going once... going twice... sold!" The auctioneer points to the woman.

The guards unchain the girl and lead her to the side of the room. Different from where they took the first girl.

She's alive. She was bought.

My stomach is in knots. I'm next.

"And now, our third product of the evening." The auctioneer's voice is cheerful. "Bidding starts at two hundred thousand dollars."

The guards grab my arms.

I try to resist, but the chains make it impossible. They drag me onto the stage.

The lights are blinding. I can barely see the audience beyond them, just shapes and shadows.

But I hear them.

"She looks sweet," a man's voice. Older, gravelly. "Fuckable."

My stomach turns. I look out into the crowd and spot him. Late fifties, maybe older. Overweight. Leering at me like I'm a piece of meat.

I gulp, trying to steady my breathing.

Please. Please, someone decent. If I have to be sold, please let it be someone who won't...

"Three hundred thousand." A woman raises her paddle.

"Four hundred thousand." A different man.

"Four hundred fifty thousand."

"Five hundred thousand."

The numbers keep climbing. People are enthusiastic about bidding for me. More than they were for the others.

This isn't good.

This isn't good at all.

Tears stream down my face. I can't stop them anymore. Can't pretend to be brave.

I'm about to be sold to a stranger who sees me as property. As a thing to be used.

"Six hundred thousand." The older man again. Still leering.

Please, no. Not him. Anyone but him.

"Seven hundred thousand." A younger woman this time.

The numbers keep rising, and all I can think is that my life is being decided by how much money these people have.

I look toward the main doors one last time. Desperate. Hoping.

Dante, please. I know you said I'm nothing to you. I know I'm just collateral. But please.

The doors stay closed.

Then...

They burst open.

The double doors slam against the walls with a sound like thunder.

Every head in the room turns.

A figure stands in the doorway. Tall. Powerful. Radiating fury that makes the air itself feel electric.

Dante.

His eyes are blazing amber. Not just flecks of gold. Full, glowing amber that says his wolf is at the surface.

His suit is disheveled. His hair is wild. He looks like he ran here.

He looks like violence personified.

The entire auction hall goes silent.

Every person in that room, the rich, the powerful, the ones who were just casually buying human beings, all of them go absolutely still.

Because the King as he is called, just walked in.

And he looks ready to kill everyone in the room.

His eyes find me on the stage. Chained. Crying. Number 3 stamped on my shoulder.

Something in his expression shifts. The fury crystallizes into something even more dangerous.

Cold. Deadly. Certain.

He takes a step forward, and his voice, when he speaks, carries across the entire room despite not being raised.

"Who dares sell my woman?"