CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4

ROWAN

I​‍​‌‍​‍‌ woke up water choking, gasping, and spluttering. It was a situation so cold and so loud that my body was jerking like I've been electrocuted. I wanted to get away but my arms were so weak and the ground was so slippery that I couldn't get away and the water was still coming down and it was icy cold and it made my skin hurt.

"Wake up," a voice commanded impatient and without any trace of humor, from somewhere quite near my face.

"Please, stop," I was interrupted again by my coughing and I tried to hide my face with my shaking hands.The water only stopped after a while.

I managed to look around after a wheezing breath. It was a gigantic underground chamber or room with only the lamps fixed to metal chains giving a very dull and faint light.

The floor looked like wet cement. The walls were draped in shadows. People tortured in the place, were at every spot of this huge room.

I turned my head to the other side of the room very slowly and with very little movement and saw kids tied to chairs with their hands bound, faces swollen, lips bleeding. Alphas. Betas.

There were also a few Omegas. I could recognize some faces from the academy and the rest were people whom I had never seen before.

All were bruised, shivering, sobbing, and gasping. Men with masks on their faces and walking like vultures were there.

They were very muscular as they were covered in black gloves, and the evilness of the sound made by their boots when they hit the floor, is what every time they did it, the whole room becomes completely quiet.

The scene that I was witnessing turned my stomach upside down and made it churn.

"What… what is this?" I inquired in such a low voice that it was hardly audible even to myself.The closest-to-me masked guy lowered his level with mine.

L "Auction prep," he said, giving the answer without any kind of gesture or hesitation."You are our stock now."

"I am not..." I started out but my voice disappeared.

My mouth was, however, firmly controlled by him as he pressed his hand against my jaw so much that I could feel the bone under the force being ground.He silenced my protest with a firm grip and said, "Speak when spoken to, don't utter a word otherwise".

Another one makes a low whistle after looking at me from top to bottom and then points a finger at me,"He is a good one," was his feedback." Very good. I can already see the buyers competing for him at his price."

"VIP treatment?" another one laughed. "No doubt about it. Just take a look at that pair of eyes. Just take a look at that ‌ face."

I moved away from him abruptly and hissed, "Leave me alone."

They laughed.

"Oh, he is really turning up the heat," said the person standing behind me. "Half the price he would have been, at the very least."

Now my breathing was faster, my chest was tight. "Please, let me go. I promise I won't ask for anything else."

"Pretty sure," the first man said while laughing, "that a good-looking boy like you will be the one to bring the highest bids."

After that, one of them put his hand around my back and lifted the torn part of my shirt.

No one spoke.

... A single, long, and sharp whistle ...

"Well well," someone whispered. "What are we looking at here? New lashes."

Another one close to him. "Still bleeding. Someone really had fun with him."

One of the men was gently running his gloved hand across the scar that was from the tear and on my back and I couldn't help but let out a gasp and my whole body was recoiling.

He was clicking his tongue. "We need it to be healed by auction day. Buyers are not fond of damaged goods."

"And I'm not goods," I retorted, with my voice ​‍​‌‍​‍‌quivering.

He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back until I was staring up at him. “Stop talking.”

Then he shouted across the room, “Bring the ointment for this one. Expensive kind.”

A bottle was tossed to him. He caught it and smirked down at me. “VIP, just like I said.”

“Please don’t—” I whispered as he uncapped it.

“Hold him,” he ordered.

Two men pinned my arms to the floor. Another pressed a knee to the back of my neck. And when the ointment touched my raw lashes, I screamed.

“Stop—stop—please—!”

“Quiet,” one snapped, slapping a hand over my mouth.

The sting was unbearable, burning straight into my spine. I was shaking uncontrollably by the time they finished.

“There,” the man said, patting my cheek lightly. “You’ll look fine in three days. Fresh as new.”

“Fuck you,” I whispered, tears in my eyes.

He laughed and stood up. “Transfer him.”

Two hours later, I was shoved into another dark room—a holding area lined with cages. Students from the academy were huddled inside: Omegas crying quietly, Betas hugging their knees, Alphas looking furious but helpless.

“Rowan?” someone whispered.

I turned, wincing at the pain in my back.

It was Mara, one of the Omegas from my potion studies class, her eyes red, her hands shaking. She reached through the bars. “They grabbed us… they grabbed everyone…”

I sank down beside her cage. “It’s okay,” I whispered, even though it wasn’t. “You’re going to be fine.”

“No, I’m not,” she cried softly. “They said— they said we’re going to be sold—”

“I won’t let them hurt you,” I told her, even though I could barely stand. “Just breathe, Mara. I’m right here.”

A little girl in the next cage whimpered. She couldn’t have been older than eight. She clung to the bars, eyes wide. “Mister… I want to go home.”

My heart twisted painfully. I crawled closer. “Hey,” I whispered gently. “Hey, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Lila,” she whispered, voice breaking.

“Lila,” I repeated softly, forcing my voice to stay steady. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

She sniffled. “Are they gonna hurt us?”

“No,” I lied. “No, they’re not.”

“You promise?”

I swallowed hard. “I promise.”

We sat like that for a long time—me whispering to terrified strangers, pretending I was strong, pretending my back wasn’t on fire, pretending I wasn’t shaking.

Two hours later, the door slammed open.

“Take the pretty one,” a voice barked.

I stiffened.

“No—no, please—” Mara whispered. “Rowan—”

“It’s fine,” I told her quickly. “I’ll be fine.”

Two guards grabbed me.

“Say goodbye,” one chuckled.

“Bye, Rowan!” Lila cried.

I forced a smile. “Be brave, Lila. I’ll see you soon.”

They dragged me into a smaller room—dark, cold, silent except for dripping water. A single lamp illuminated a metal chair and a tray of ointments and food.

“Strip,” one commanded.

“No,” I snapped automatically.

He grabbed the collar of my shirt and ripped it open. “I wasn’t asking.”

I shuddered as he pushed me into the chair.

“You need to look good,” the other muttered. “Pretty face, smooth skin, no visible marks. Buyers like that.”

“I don’t care what they like,” I hissed.

“Not your concern.”

He pressed fresh ointment to my lashes again and I screamed, slamming my fist against the armrest.

“Quiet,” he snapped.

Then they forced food into my mouth.

“Eat,” one growled. “You have to look healthy.”

“I’m not hungry—”

He pinched my jaw until my mouth opened. “Eat.”

I swallowed because I had no choice.

When they finally left the room, it went dead silent.

And the memories I’d been trying to bury started crawling back—dark hallways, cold hands, voices calling me asset, flashes of chains, shadows pressing against me.

“No,” I whispered. “No, don’t—stop—stop—”

My breathing grew rapid, too rapid. Sweat dripped down my spine. My head pounded. I tried to stand but couldn’t.

“Stop,” I begged no one. “Please stop—”

I passed out on the floor.

When I woke again, they were back.

“Up,” one ordered. “Food.”

“No,” I muttered weakly. “I can’t—”

They shoved bread into my hand. “Eat.”

For three days, it was the same.

Cold room.

Ointment.

Forced food.

Silence.

Nightmares.

More ointment.

More silence.

By the fourth day, I smelled awful, my hair was matted, and I hadn’t slept longer than ten minutes without jolting awake. My back still throbbed, but less violently—the ointment was working.

The door opened.

Two big men stepped in.

“Time to prep you up,” one said.

I exhaled shakily.

This was it.

Auction day.