CHAPTER SEVEN: SOLD TO THE SERPENTS

The bike ride was a blur of highway lights and screaming wind.

I sat behind one of Viper's men, my wrists zip-tied to the grab bar. Every bump in the road sent pain shooting through my ribs. Behind us, twenty-two more bikes followed like a funeral procession.

My funeral.

Through the helmet's visor, I caught glimpses of Colt back at the compound. He was fighting three men who held him back, his face twisted with rage and something that looked like grief.

Then we turned a corner, and he disappeared.

The ride lasted three hours. We stopped once at a gas station where Viper made a phone call, his eyes never leaving me. When he finished, he smiled.

"Your boyfriend's mother is home safe. See? I keep my promises."

"You are a monster."

"I am a businessman." He lit a cigarette, offering me one. I refused. "You will learn the difference soon enough."

We arrived at the Serpent compound just after midnight. It was bigger than Colt's—sprawling buildings surrounded by razor wire and guard towers. This was not just an MC clubhouse. It was a fortress.

They dragged me into a concrete building at the back of the property. Inside was a long hallway with numbered doors on either side. Cells.

"Welcome to processing," Viper said. "This is where we prepare our merchandise."

"I am not merchandise."

"You are whatever I say you are." He opened door number seven and shoved me inside. "The auction is in five days. We will make sure you look perfect for our buyers."

The door slammed shut.

The cell was maybe eight feet by eight feet. A cot. A toilet. A sink. Nothing else. A camera blinked red in the corner, watching everything.

I sank onto the cot and finally let myself fall apart.

Hours passed. Maybe days. No windows meant no sense of time.

They brought food twice—thin soup and stale bread. I forced myself to eat. Survivors eat. Victims starve.

I would not be a victim anymore.

On what I thought was the second day, a woman entered my cell. She was older, maybe fifty, with hard eyes and gentle hands.

"I am Martha. I prepare the girls." She carried a bag of supplies. "Strip."

"No."

"It was not a request." She set down the bag. "You can do it willingly, or I can call the guards. Your choice."

I remembered Derek saying those same words. Your choice. Like there was ever a real choice.

I stripped.

Martha examined me with clinical detachment. "Bruises will fade before the auction. The scar above your eye gives you character. Some buyers like that." She handed me soap and a razor. "Shower. Shave everything. I will be back in ten minutes."

She left, locking the door behind her.

I stood under the cold water and scrubbed until my skin was raw. Trying to wash away Derek. Viper. This entire nightmare.

But some stains do not come out.

When Martha returned, she brought clothes—a simple white dress that looked almost innocent. "Put this on. Viper wants to see you."

"What if I refuse?"

"Then he will come get you himself. And trust me, you do not want that."

I put on the dress.

Martha led me through the compound to a building that looked like an office. Inside, Viper sat behind a massive desk, reviewing papers.

"Sit." He gestured to a chair across from him.

I remained standing.

He looked up, amused. "Still have some fight in you. Good. Broken girls sell, but fighters sell for more." He pushed a folder across the desk. "Your contract. Everything is legal in our world. Derek Monroe sold you for fifty thousand dollars. That makes you my property until someone outbids my investment."

"You cannot own people."

"I own twelve right now. Thirteen including you." He opened the folder, showing me photos. Women. Girls. Some looked dead inside. "This is my business, Jenna. I acquire assets and sell them to interested parties. Some go to brothels. Some to private collectors. Some disappear entirely."

My stomach turned. "Colt will come for me."

"I am counting on it." Viper smiled. "See, you are valuable for two reasons. One, you are beautiful and undamaged enough to command a high price. Two, you are leverage against Colt Richardson. When he comes—and he will—I will be ready. I will destroy him, take his territory, and expand my empire. You are not just merchandise, Jenna. You are bait."

"He will kill you."

"Many have tried." He closed the folder. "The auction is in five days. Until then, you will be fed, cleaned, and displayed for potential buyers during preview sessions. You will smile. You will be obedient. Or you will be disciplined. Understand?"

"Go to hell."

He stood, walking around the desk with predatory grace. His hand shot out, gripping my jaw. "I like your spirit. But if you defy me again, I will make an example of you in front of the other girls. Are we clear?"

I spat in his face.

His expression did not change. He simply released me, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his face clean.

"Martha, take her back. No food for three days. Let us see if hunger improves her manners."

Back in the cell, I collapsed on the cot.

Three days without food. I was already weak. Three days might break me completely.

But I refused to break. Not for Viper. Not for anyone.

That night—or what I thought was night—I heard crying from the cell next door. Soft. Desperate.

I pressed my ear against the wall. "Hello?"

The crying stopped.

"My name is Jenna," I whispered. "Can you hear me?"

Silence. Then a voice, young and scared. "I am Sofia."

"How long have you been here?"

"Six months. They caught me crossing the border. Promised me work. Instead..." Her voice broke. "The auction is in five days."

"I know. I am in it too."

"Then we are both dead." Sofia's voice was hollow. "Nobody survives after they are sold. We just disappear."

"No." I pressed my hand against the wall. "We are going to survive. Both of us. I promise."

"How? There are guards everywhere. Cameras. Razor wire. Even if we escaped the compound, we are in the middle of nowhere."

She was right. Escape was impossible.

But I had something she did not.

I had Colt Richardson. And he would burn this entire compound to the ground to get me back.

I just had to survive until he did.

"Listen to me, Sofia. Someone is coming for me. When he does, there will be chaos. When that happens, you run. Find the other girls and run. Understand?"

"Who is coming?"

"A devil in leather." I closed my eyes, seeing Colt's face. "And God help anyone who gets in his way."

For the first time since I was taken, I felt something other than fear.

Hope.

Three days later, Martha opened my cell. I had not eaten. Had barely slept. But I was still standing.

"Time for preview," she said. "Potential buyers want to see the merchandise before auction night."

She led me to a large room where fifteen men sat in chairs, drinks in hand, eyes hungry.

Viper stood at the front. "Gentlemen, this is our premium offering. Jenna Carter. Twenty-eight years old. Undamaged. Connected to Colt Richardson of the Devil's Reign MC, which adds considerable value."

The men studied me like livestock.

One stood—tall, scarred, with dead eyes. "I want a closer look."

"Of course, Mr. Konstantin." Viper gestured. "But no touching during preview. That privilege comes after purchase."

Konstantin circled me slowly. "She has fire. I like fire. It makes breaking them more satisfying."

I met his eyes. "If you touch me, I will kill you."

He laughed. "See? Perfect. I will start the bidding at one hundred thousand."

The room erupted with competing offers.

And I realized with sickening clarity that I was not just being sold.

I was being fought over like a prize.

Just like with Derek. Just like with Colt.

Men claiming ownership of my body. My life. My future.

As they argued prices, a guard whispered something to Viper. His expression changed.

"Gentlemen, we have a situation. The preview is postponed." He looked directly at me, and for the first time, I saw concern in his eyes. "It seems Colt Richardson just declared war on the Serpent MC. He is mobilizing every ally he has. And he is coming here."

My heart stopped.

Viper smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "This just got interesting.”