002

The moment his polished shoes touched the dirty ground, everything changed.

Mistress Juno straightened so fast it looked painful. Zara followed, both of them exchanging a quick, uncertain glance before hurrying forward. For the first time since Elowen had arrived at the Manor, they looked… unsettled.

Nervous.

“Sir Zevrian,” Juno greeted, her voice smoother than Elowen had ever heard it. “We—we weren’t informed of your visit.”

Zara dipped her head slightly. “If we had known, preparations would have been made accordingly.”

Elowen watched from behind the glass, her expression unreadable.

So this was one of them. One of the men responsible for everything.

He didn’t look like a monster. That was the problem.

Tall. Composed. Dressed in dark, tailored to perfection three piece suit. Not a single movement wasted. Not a single emotion visible.

Like none of this touched him.

Like the chains, the glass, the bodies lined up like objects—

Like it was all beneath him.

Elowen’s jaw tightened. Of course it is.

Beside her, Lysara made a small, breathless sound.

“Oh my God…” she whispered, pressing closer to the glass. “He’s…”

“Don’t,” Elowen muttered.

But Lysara didn’t stop.

“He’s even more…”

“I said don’t.”

Her voice came out sharper this time.

Lysara went quiet, but Elowen could still feel the way her attention clung to him.

Disgust twisted low in Elowen’s stomach.

“What brings you here, sir?” Zara asked quickly, stepping slightly ahead of Juno like she wanted to take control of the conversation. “This place isn’t… suited for someone of your status.”

Juno nodded eagerly. “You could have sent word. Anything you require—maids, companions, specialty selections—we would have arranged it immediately.”

Zara added, “There’s no need for you to come here personally.”

Zevrian didn’t answer immediately but his gaze moved slowly across the room.

Observing. Not lingering on anyone but almost like he was looking for someone.

Until—

It stopped.

Elowen felt it before she fully registered it.

That shift. That weight.

Her breath hitched, just slightly.

His eyes had landed on her.

And for a split second, it felt like something invisible shoved against her chest—hard enough that her back pressed faintly against the glass behind her.

Her fingers curled at her sides.

What is happening?

She held his gaze and refused to look away.

If he thought she’d drop her head like the others, he was wrong.

“I’m conducting a general sweep,” Zevrian said finally, his voice calm and even. “There was an incident on the adjoining street.” His tone didn’t change.

And his eyes didn’t leave her. Not for a second.

Juno blinked. “Yes, bunch of hooligans. Just making trouble.”

“But,” Zara said quickly. “But everything here is under control. We assure you…”

“We have our best inventory secured,” Juno added. “If you’re interested in anything of higher quality, we can bring them out immediately.”

Zara nodded, eager now. “Yes, the premium selections are in storage. Much more suitable.”

She glanced toward Elowen’s row, her lip curling faintly. “This section is simply… overflow. Leftovers, really.”

Elowen didn’t react. Didn’t move. Didn’t give them anything. But inside, something burned.

Zevrian didn’t acknowledge them. He didn’t even look at them.

He just started walking. Straight toward her.

Each step slow. Precise.

The sound of his shoes against the floor echoed louder than it should have.

Elowen’s body went rigid.

Not from fear. From something else.

Something she didn’t like.

He stopped right in front of her glass. Close enough that she could see every detail now.

Sharp features. Unreadable expression. Eyes that looked like they saw too much.

He studied her. Not like the others did.

Not like she was something to use.

It felt worse than that.

Like he was trying to figure her out. Like she was a problem.

Her chin lifted slightly. A challenge.

“This one.”

The words were quiet, but they cut through everything.

Juno froze. “I’m sorry?”

Zevrian didn’t look away from Elowen.

“Did I stutter?” he asked.

“No, of course not…” Zara laughed nervously. “Sir, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. She’s not…”

“She’s not suitable,” Juno cut in quickly. “She’s part of the last batch. Unrefined. There are far better options…”

“She has a scar,” Zara added, gesturing vaguely. “On her shoulder. It ruins the overall presentation. Tasteless.”

Juno nodded. “And her attitude—she’s been… difficult. Not ideal for someone of your standing.”

His hand lifted slightly. Not high. Not dramatic. Just enough.

Enough to shut them up.

Elowen’s lips pressed together.

Zevrian didn’t react. Not to the excuses. Not to the dismissals.

He just kept looking at her. And she kept looking back.

Neither of them moved. The tension stretched.

“Don't make me repeat myself.”

Juno swallowed. “Of course, sir.”

Zara straightened. “Our apologies.”

Silence fell again.

“Her file,” Zevrian said.

Juno turned quickly. “Yes—yes, of course.”

She snapped her fingers at one of the maids. “Get it. Now.”

The maid rushed off immediately.

Elowen didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Her heart was beating harder now.

Faster.

Why?

Why her? Out of everyone.

Why her?

The maid returned, slightly out of breath, holding a thin file.

Juno took it quickly, flipping it open.

“Elowen Thorne. Human,” she began. “Captured during the final phase of the Cold War.”

Zara leaned in slightly. “Lost family during the conflict.”

“No known affiliations with werewolves,” Juno continued. “No criminal record tied to any surviving relatives.” She paused and flipped the page with a frown. “That’s all.”

Zevrian’s gaze didn’t shift. “That’s all?” he repeated.

Juno hesitated. “Yes, sir. She’s… relatively unremarkable.”

Zara stepped in quickly. “We have far more appealing options. Stronger profiles. Better conditioning…”

“More compliant,” Juno added.

Elowen’s jaw clenched.

Zevrian’s expression didn’t change but something in his eyes sharpened. Just slightly.

Enough.

“Are you suggesting,” he said quietly, “that I’m incapable of making a selection?”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be.

Zara’s face paled instantly. “No, sir…”

“Not at all…” Juno shook her head quickly. “We would never imply that.”

“Good.”

Elowen watched it happen. Watched the fear settle into them. Watched how easily he did it.

Without raising his voice.

“I’ll take her,” Zevrian said.

Final.

Elowen’s stomach dropped.

No.

No.

Her fingers curled into fists.

No.

Juno hesitated, just for a second. “Of course, sir.”

Zara nodded quickly. “She’s… she’s valued at one thousand.”

Elowen almost laughed.

A bitter, sharp sound that stayed trapped in her chest.

A thousand?

Yesterday, they had threatened to cut her ears off and sell her for 20 coins.

Now she was worth that? A thousand?

Hypocrites.

Zevrian just snapped his fingers and the woman behind him stepped forward.

Elowen hadn’t even noticed her properly before.

Tall. Silent. Armed and built. Watching everything.

She pulled out a checkbook without a word, wrote something quickly, and handed it to Zara.

Zara’s eyes widened as she took it. Juno leaned in.

Both of them stared at it like it was something sacred.

Like they had just been handed a miracle.

They didn’t even look at him anymore. Didn’t remember he was still there.

Pathetic.

“Open it,” Zevrian said.

The glass door unlocked with a click.

“Out,” Juno ordered.

Elowen didn’t move.

“Out,” Zara repeated, sharper this time.

Still, she didn’t move. Her feet stayed planted.

Her eyes stayed on him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said quietly.

The words hung in the air.

Zevrian signaled and the bodyguard moved before anyone else could react.

She stepped forward, opened the glass fully, and grabbed Elowen by the arm.

Hard.

Elowen twisted instantly. “Don’t touch me!”

The woman didn’t respond. Didn’t hesitate.

She lifted Elowen like she weighed nothing, throwing her over her shoulder.

Elowen struggled, hitting her back, kicking.

“Put me down!”

Nothing.

The woman walked forward like it didn’t matter. Like she didn’t feel it.

And then she dropped Elowen right in front of him.

Elowen hit the ground hard, pain shooting up her side but she didn’t stay down.

She pushed herself up immediately, breathing hard.

And before she could stop herself—

She spat.

Right at him.

“Fuck you.” She angrily breathed.

Silence. For half a second.

Nothing moved.

Then the punch came fast. Brutal.

The bodyguard’s fist connected with her face, snapping her head to the side as her body hit the floor again.

Harder this time.

Pain exploded and warmth flooded her nose.

Elowen touched it. Blood.

Her vision blurred instantly.

“Elowen!” Lysara’s voice broke through the haze. “Leave her alone!”

“Quiet!” Juno snapped. “Mind your place!”

Lysara didn’t stop. “Please!”

“Another word and you’ll join her!” Zara barked.

Silence fell again.

Elowen tried to push herself up but her arms didn’t cooperate.

The world spun and her breathing felt wrong. Too shallow. Too slow.

She tasted blood and heard nothing but the pounding in her head.

“Put her in the car,” Zevrian commanded like nothing had happened.

The bodyguard bent down again, lifting Elowen without effort.

This time, Elowen didn’t fight. Her body went limp as darkness crept in at the edges of her vision.

The last thing she heard was the sound of the door opening.

Then closing.

And the engine starting.

And then, nothing.