CHAPTER 2: BOUGHT AND SOLD

The stench hit my nostrils before the man even crossed the threshold. It rolled into the room in a thick, suffocating cloud—stale sweat, wet earth, and the foul, copper tang of dried blood.

I pressed my cheek against the carpet, gagging as my stomach heaved against the burning wine.

A heavy frame ducked through the doorframe. Hair matted with grease and dried mud hung in filthy strands over his brow, almost hiding a thick white scar that cut through his left eyebrow. His beard was patchy and caked with grime, framing a split lip that exposed yellowed, decaying teeth. Torn, stained leather draped over broad, hunching shoulders, and mud-encrusted boots left wet streaks across the hotel carpet.

"Don't bolt the lock," Victoria’s voice echoed from the hallway outside before her heels retreated down the corridor. "Leave the latch free so the elders can walk straight in at midnight."

"Got it, miss," the man grunted, his voice sounding like two grinding stones. He let the door click shut behind him without throwing the heavy deadbolt.

His bloodshot eyes swept over me, lingering on the way my shirt sat tangled around my shoulders and the feverish flush painting my skin.

"Soft," he muttered, his lips pulling back into an ugly grin. "Tristan paid well for this."

Hearing my fiancé’s name from a filthy vagrant’s lips broke something deep inside my chest. A dry sob tore from my throat, but no sound came out—only a ragged rasp.

They picked him on purpose, my mind screamed, panic clawing at my throat as my vision blurred. The dirtiest, most frightening thing they could find in the dark. Tristan sat across from me at dinner yesterday. He looked me in the eye... and he set this up.

"You brought a rogue?" I croaked out, my hands scraping against the carpet as I tried to drag myself backward. "Tristan... Tristan agreed to this?"

"Agreed?" The rogue—Dorn—cracked his knuckles, the dark dirt caked deep under his thick fingernails. "He paid for half of me, girl. Said he wanted to make sure there wasn't a single soul in Shadow Glint Pack who would take your side when this gets out."

He took a slow step forward. "He told me to leave my mark deep on your shoulder. Said the elders need to see rogue blood on you."

My pupils dilated in sheer terror. A traitor's mark. If a rogue marks me, pack law dictates immediate exile or execution. They aren't just stripping my dignity—they are signing my death warrant.

"I've never been so disappointed her wolf is asleep," Victoria’s parting scoff echoed in my memory. The wolf I never had. I've been ashamed of my silent wolf for years. And now they're using it to destroy me.

"Don't come near me," I forced out, my voice trembling as my hand blindly scraped backward against the low wooden nightstand runner, my fingers frantically searching for anything to anchor myself against the heavy haze of the drug.

"Don't be scared, pretty thing," Dorn said, taking another heavy step forward. "I'll give you a real good time."

My breathing came in fast, shallow gasps. I remember the maids whispering at the Manor... when we were cleaning the back halls. They said rogue males fight over anything they can catch. They said when a rogue gets a female alone, they are rough. They release everything at once.

What does 'rough' mean when it's him? No. No, I won't let him touch me.

My shaking fingers hit something cold, smooth, and extraordinarily heavy resting on the corner of the wooden table. I didn't look at it. I didn't dare pull my eyes off his face.

Dorn took his final step, his massive shadow stretching long across the floorboards, completely blocking out the overhead light. He reached out his filthy hand, his black-caked nails clawing toward the neck of my shirt.

Now!

A sudden, blinding spike of pure defiance surged through the thick haze of the drug. I didn't hesitate. I didn't give him time to react.

My fingers locked around the heavy base of whatever object lay on the table. With the absolute last reserve of strength left in my poisoned body, I screamed—a raw, guttural sound of pure defiance—shoving myself upward and swinging the heavy object with everything I had straight at his face.

"What the—" Dorn started, his bloodshot eyes widening in shock.

The heavy, solid base connected straight against the side of his skull with a sickening, shattering CRACK.