7

Diana’s POV

He led me into a room crowded with strange machinery, syringes, and various medicines. He picked up a small glass vial, drew the liquid into a syringe, and tapped the side of the needle.

"What are you doing? Please, just leave me alone," I begged, sinking to my knees.

He stopped and stared down at me. For a fleeting second, I hoped my compliance would soften him—that he might actually let me go.

Then he smirked, a cruel glint in his eyes.

"Oh, so you like to kneel? Save that for later when you are tod drive me," he sneered, yanking me upright by my arm.

"Please, don't inject me! What is that?"

He ignored my pleas. With a violent tug, he tore my bra away, exposing my chest.

He looked down at the damp fabric of my padded bra and then at me.

"Are you breastfeeding?" he demanded, his voice lacing with sudden anger.

My mind raced. If I said yes, would they get angry and killed ? Or would his anger turn deadly? If I told him the truth—that it was a natural condition—would it just lead to more humiliation?

"I'm talking to you!" he shouted, jarring me from my thoughts.

"No—no... yes," I stammered. "It’s a condition I’ve had for years. I’ve tried medications to stop it, but nothing works. Please, don't—"

"This makes my work easier," he interrupted, his expression shifting to a cold grin. "You don't even need the hormones to start milking. Our machines will be enough to grow these even bigger."

"Please, just leave me be!"

"You don't get a choice here," he snapped. "The only time you get a choice is when men are paying a fortune for you. Just like our 'Treasure'."

"Please, understand... I have a daughter. She's waiting for me," I said, my voice breaking. I was terrified of what she was facing out there all alone. "She’s only ten! She's all by herself!"

"That doesn't concern me. In fact, you’re headed to the next batch of buyers in minutes," he said, shoving me toward the door.

He forced me into another room and shoved pills into my hand, forcing me to swallow them. I didn't know what they were; I had never seen anything like them.

"Please, listen to me," I tried one last time. "I’ll pay you anything. Just let me go and I promise I’ll leave the country. You’ll never see me again."

He burst into a mocking laugh. "What could a poor girl like you have that I would want? Besides, you’ve got guts talking to me like that." His voice turned dangerously low.

I fell silent. It was clear my talking was only making things worse.

"Follow me."

"I’m not going anywhere," I snarled, finding a spark of defiance. "You might as well kill me here."

He leaned in close, his voice a deadly whisper. "Didn't you say you had a daughter? I can go find her right now. Her life ends today if you don't move."

My heart plummeted. I looked up at him, defeated. I cherished my daughter; she was all I had since my parents turned their backs on me. I had no choice but to follow.

He led me through a hallway toward a loud, booming voice. It wasn't just a few men—there were hundreds. An auctioneer stood at the front, his voice echoing off the wooden facades of the surrounding buildings like a town square. He wore a waistcoat and a bowler hat perched on his bald head, dabbing sweat from his face with a handkerchief.

“Gentlemen, it surely has been a hot one… and I’m talking about the auction, not the weather!”

A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd.

“But we ain’t finished yet!” the auctioneer continued. “We’ve got one more 'hucow' to auction off. I’ve been saving the best for last. Let’s bring her out!”

He motioned for me. I stayed frozen, paralyzed by fear, until a sudden, electric jolt shot through my body. One of the guards had pressed a cattle prod against my backside. I gasped in pain, stumbling out onto the stage. The sun-baked boards burned my bare feet.

The auctioneer leaned in, hissing into my ear, “Don’t fuck this up, heifer. If you don’t sell, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

His phone buzzed. He checked it, and a slow smile spread across his face. "So, you’re 'special' and you have a daughter? Behave, or she pays the price."

I nodded frantically.

“Good,” he whispered, giving me a lecherous pat on the rear. I turned away in disgust. The crowd had thinned since the peak of the auction, but the remaining men all had the same greedy, cold eyes. To them, I wasn't a person.

My eyes landed on a man who suddenly appeared my back. He was a giant, broad-shouldered and imposing.

"I like her," the man said, "but why aren't her breasts as large as the others?"

"She’s a rarity," the auctioneer said.

"She’s a natural producer. That’s a gift, my friend!" He turned back to me. “Now, before the bidding starts, show these gentlemen what they’re buying. Take off those pants, and squeeze the milk out of your boobs and show them what you’ve got to offer.”

The crowd began to murmur. I felt as if the blood had drained from my body. I couldn't move. My lungs felt tight, and the only thing moving was my thudding heart.

"Do it," the auctioneer hissed, "or my men will strip you themselves, and they won't be gentle."

I looked at the guards with the cattle prods. Trembling, I reached for the waistband of my pants and began to pull the damp fabric down.

Suddenly, a heavy suit jacket was thrown over my shoulders, covering me completely. Strong arms lifted me up. I looked up, gasping.

Alessandro

His light green eyes were bloodshot with rage. Beside him stood Alex. Alessandro didn't look at me; he looked at the auctioneer and the crowd. The men who had been shouting seconds ago now bowed their heads, too terrified to meet his gaze.

In a blur of movement, blood splattered across the stage—and my face. I blinked as Alessandro slit the throats of the auctioneer and the man who wanted me. They collapsed to the floor, dead before they hit the wood.

Alessandro’s chest heaved with fury.

"How dare you look at what is mine!"

He turned his gaze to me. "Did anyone touch you?" he roared. "Even a finger?"

I glanced toward the man who had brought me there. Our eyes met, and he subtly mimed a throat-cutting gesture. If I talked, my daughter was dead.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Alessandro shouted. I began to shake. I didn't know who to fear more—the monster in front of me, or the one threatening my child.

Before I could speak, Alessandro grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the wall, my head hit the wall. I closed my eyes in pain.

"Talk," he growled, his face inches from mine. "Talk, or I will kill every single person in this square, including you."