Chapter 4

Pain exploded in Elizabeth’s head like a wildfire ripping through dry brush. Consciousness crept back slowly, dragging with it a haze of confusion and terror. Her limbs were heavy, sluggish, as if they belonged to someone else. Her throat burned with thirst. Before she could fully comprehend her surroundings, a sharp sting landed across her cheek.

Someone had slapped her.

Her eyes fluttered open, blinking against the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. The world around her was strange and sterile — a cold room filled with movement and shadows. Several women surrounded her, unfamiliar and expressionless, pulling at her limbs, forcing her into some form of tight, lacy garment that barely covered her trembling frame.

“Wha—what is this?” she rasped, her voice hoarse and raw. Her arms moved weakly, trying to push them away, but the women ignored her. Panic began to churn in her gut.

She looked down. The clothing they’d shoved her into was obscene — sheer lace and straps that exposed far too much. Nothing she would’ve ever willingly worn. A shiver ran down her spine as she tried to resist, but the women were strong. Ruthless.

Suddenly, she was shoved out into a narrow corridor. Her bare feet stumbled across the cold tiles. Before she could find her footing, a dark figure emerged from the shadows — a man, tall and broad, with cruel eyes that gleamed under the fluorescent light.

When she tried to turn away, he struck her across the face. Her head snapped sideways. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

“Move,” he hissed, pulling a gun from his waistband and pressing it against her temple. “You scream, you die. You run, you die. You stand like a good girl, and maybe—just maybe—you live. Understand?”

Tears welled in her eyes. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought it might burst from her chest. She nodded.

Satisfied, the man holstered his weapon. The women shoved her again, harder this time, and she stumbled forward through a curtain. Then the lights hit her.

Blinding spotlights beamed down as she stepped onto a small rotating stage. A platform whirred beneath her, slowly turning her around like some object on display. Gasps and murmurs echoed from beyond the stage — a crowd. Rows of masked bidders seated in a lavish underground room, eyes fixed on her.

The announcer’s voice boomed overhead. “Let’s begin the auction with Contestant Eight!”

Elizabeth’s stomach dropped. She froze in place.

An auction. She was being auctioned.

“Starting bid — two hundred thousand dollars!”

“Three hundred!” someone barked.

“Five hundred!”

Her arms instinctively wrapped around herself, trying to shield what little dignity she had left. Her knees trembled, but the rotating platform didn’t stop. She felt the crowd drinking her in with greedy eyes. Her throat closed with silent sobs. She didn’t understand how she got here, or why — only that this was real. And she had to survive it.

Then a voice cut through the madness.

“One million.”

Gasps filled the room. The announcer choked on his words. All eyes turned toward a tall, still figure seated in the back. He wore a black suit and a mask, his posture calm, composed. But the moment he spoke, the entire room shifted, the air itself turning colder.

Elizabeth’s breath caught. Something about him made her skin crawl.

“Sold!” the announcer declared quickly, sensing the tension. “To the bidder in black — one million dollars!”

The crowd murmured in awe. The platform stopped moving. Elizabeth stood there, shaking, unsure what would happen next.

But then — chaos.

Gunshots shattered the air. Screams erupted as masked men dove for cover. Chairs crashed, bodies ran in all directions. Law enforcement flooded the room from concealed entrances, their weapons drawn.

From the shadows, the masked man who had bid one million rose calmly. He adjusted his cuffs, his expression unreadable behind the mask.

One of his men approached urgently. “Sir, she’s trying to flee backstage!”

His voice was like steel. “Get her. No one else touches her.”

Backstage, Elizabeth had jumped from the platform and ran blindly, her feet slapping against the floor. She turned a corner—only to slam into someone. Strong hands caught her.

“Let me go!” she cried, thrashing.

“You’re coming with me,” the man growled.

She screamed and twisted, but before he could drag her away, a shout rang out.

“Hey!”

Another figure burst through the smoke-filled corridor. A bat swung fast, slamming into the first man’s head. His mask flew off as he crumpled to the floor, unconscious and bleeding.

The second masked man grabbed Elizabeth’s arm.

“This way. Now!”

She hesitated, then nodded, too terrified to question. Together, they ran down a narrow passage, pushing through a service exit. Cool night air hit her face as they emerged into an alley behind the building.

The masked man leaned against the wall, catching his breath. Elizabeth backed away slightly, her voice quivering. “Thank you… for saving me.”

He didn’t answer.

She took another step back. “Well… I should go now. I don’t know who you are, but—”

His head snapped toward her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

His tone had changed. Sharp. Cold.

She froze, her heart slamming against her ribs.

He raised a gun, pointing it at her with a calm smirk. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Two more men appeared from the shadows. Before Elizabeth could scream, they grabbed her from behind. She fought, kicking and twisting, but they held her tight.

“Let me go!” she cried.

The man with the gun walked toward her, each step deliberate. He stopped inches from her, eyes gleaming behind his mask.

“Who are you?” she demanded through her tears.

“You’ll find out soon, princess,” he murmured, pulling a syringe from his coat. The fluid inside gleamed under the alley’s dim light.

“No!” she screamed, thrashing violently.

Too late.

The needle pierced her neck. The drug worked fast — her vision blurred, her limbs turned to jelly. The world spun. Voices became distant echoes.

And then the darkness swallowed her whole.