1. Auction

Anika/Anya

The blinding lights of the stage hit me even harder than my captor did an hour ago. All eyes are on me as I stand in nothing but a low-cut chiffon dress, barefoot, and a face full of makeup to cover my cuts and bruises.

“Don’t do anything to her face, assholes!” one of my captors had said, but the damage had been done. All because I had been too out of it to notice what had been done to me… What they would still do to me.

I landed in Las Vegas yesterday, ready to celebrate my 21st birthday with a few close friends. Everything was perfect until we reached our final hotel bar crawl. We ordered glasses of champagne, and when I got up to head to the bathroom, a hand clamped around my mouth, and darkness took me before I could scream for help from Liev, my personal guard.

Guards, you ask? Well, my name is Anya Popov, and before my abduction, I was the only daughter of a Russian Pakhan Alpha - a mafia princess for a better term. The only difference is I’m human - a flaw to a great man like my father. But he loved me nonetheless.

My eyes adjust to the bright light and scan the crowd as they all hungrily look up at me. Apart from the dingy backstage, the entire place looks fancier than I expected, similar to an opera house, but it doesn’t ease up my anxiety at all.

In fact, it makes me feel even worse because now I know these people have money—a lot of it. 

I spot primarily middle-aged to older men, and I can tell they’re all itching to get their hands on me. I’ve seen predatory glances before, and right now, I’m as safe as a newborn lamb in front of a pack of hungry wolves, for lack of a better term.

Sweat trickles down my back, and my heart hammers against my chest as my predicament finally hits me; one of these people will purchase me to do with as they please, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

“This little princess has just turned 21; by the Goddess’ grace, she’s still a virgin!” My heart constricts as the MC talks to the crowd, eliciting favorable murmurs from them. 

What?! How could they have possibly known that I was still a virgin?! I swallow hard as an awful feeling settles in my heart  -  one of those disgusting goons possibly violated me.

“She’s yours to do anything as you please as bidding starts at-”

“What is the meaning of this?!” A deep male voice cuts through my captor’s introductions, and I flinch at the anger behind his tone. I look up, but even as the harsh lights block out his face, I can tell this man exudes power. “Get her off the stage right this instant!” 

My breath hitches in my throat when he grabs me by my forearm and pushes me behind him. Unwelcomed relief settles in my bones; could this be my savior? Will I be able to leave?!

“Apologies, ladies, and gentlemen, but there has been a mistake. This little bird is not for sale as this auction does not permit the sale of humans or any supernatural creatures.” He says, commanding the entire crowd with his voice, then motions with his hand for the MC to continue before pulling me off stage. 

Even as I shiver in fear, I can tell he’s completely livid. When I look down, I can see an intricate tattoo on the top of his hand, and something inside of me screams ‘Mafia,’ and that bit of relief gets snatched away. 

What will happen to me now that no one has bought me? Will this man kill me because I know of his black-market auction?

We stop in front of a room, and when he pulls me towards him, his heady, exotic cologne envelopes my senses before pushing me inside. 

“Don’t fucking move,” he warns before slamming the door and leaving me alone in what looks like a backstage changing room. 

Once again, I didn’t even look up at his face before he left because I was terrified. This man seems to demand submission, even more so than my father back in Russia. I know that whatever he has planned for me can’t be good, so right now, I can do nothing but wait as my fate gets decided by an unknown man.

I haven’t cried since those three men took me, but I can feel tears threatening to break the surface right now. I wrap my arms around my waist, and a shiver shoots up my spine. What is going to happen to me once he returns? Will my life be snuffed out even before it begins?

“What the fuck do you mean?” I hear his voice on the other side of the door, and immediately my heart starts to pound even more. “Who the fuck gave you the permission to sell a woman?”

“Diavolos did; he assured me you would be okay with this since it is the fifth anniversary of the auction,” the voice of my second captor answers, and I subconsciously take a step back from the door. This is the violent one who slapped me when I dared to talk.

“Fucking Diavolos,” the other man growls, then sighs. “Fine, I’ll handle this. Tell him I will send 3 million for the girl and that this is the last fucking time he pulls a stunt like this.” He says. I can’t help but catch a faint accent in his tone, and it leaves me wondering who exactly this man is.

Then something occurs to me, and it is like a bucket of ice water is poured all over my body. This man has just paid 3 million for me…he owns me now. 

Just as I realize this, the door opens, and the man who now owns me walks in. I manage to look up into his face this time, and my heartbeat races even more. Even though he exudes power, he is breathtakingly handsome. He has dark hair, dark green eyes, and even though he’s wearing a suit, I can tell that his body could serve as a weapon.

He looks me up and down, and I feel as if I’m being appraised before he turns on his heel and walks out of the room. The intensity behind his stare rendered me speechless, and as I was about to breathe out a sigh, my second captor walks in with a cocky grin plastered on his face.

“Aren’t you a lucky one?” he says, his Irish accent mocking me. “You now belong to the most powerful man in Sin City, congratulations.”

I don’t know how lucky I should count myself, so I ask, “Who exactly is that?” The grin I get from him sends a disgusting shiver up my spine.

“Your pussy now belongs to Bastien Ioannides, love,” he says, then cackles as he walks away without a care in the world.

As if he just didn’t rip mine apart with that name.

Bastien Ioannides - the name hangs like a trophy in my father’s mansion; the last Greek Alpha family he took out and insulted before leaving for Russia, and now I have just been bought by that very man. 

But how was he still alive when my father supposedly killed him? Was it simply pure bad luck that I ended up here?

The only reason I know all of this is because my father gets a bit too chatty when he’s had one too many glasses of Vodka. He always made me join him for a nightcap and revealed to me what he thought his most significant achievement was.

The fall of the Ioannides SilverCrest pack and the subsequent ruination of Isla Ioannides before sending her back to her mate in pieces.

How ironic that I should end up like this when my father brutalized Bastien’s wife and made him watch? And how ironic is it that I might end up just like her?

I sink to the floor, and yet still no tears come through my horror even though I know for sure that this man might just kill me if he has to find out who I truly am. 

Even if I had to lie and give him a different name, I am sure he has the means to figure out who I am. In that case, I am dead right after I leave this room.

The door swings open again, and another man walks in. He’s wearing a three-piece suit, has long black hair, and has the same air of intimidation around him as Bastien. Sighing, he looks bored as he gives me a once-over, then cocks his head to the side. 

“Come with me,” he says, then walks out again, expecting me to follow him.

I blink, then get to my feet before another blow heads my way for not listening and stupidly follow after the man. 

I can still hear the MC and cringe thinking back to being on that stage underneath the hot, glaring lights without knowing what would happen to me. By the looks on the faces of the men in the crowd, some of them would have loved to buy me for their sick fantasies. 

A disgusted feeling coils in my stomach at the thought, knowing that even though none of those men bought me, someone else did—someone who is much more dangerous than anyone in that crowd.

As soon as I step out of the room, the long-haired man grabs my forearm and pulls me along with him to God knows where. 

You would think I would be used to being pulled around like this, but whenever an unknown man touches me, I feel like I want to vomit uncontrollably.

After a few minutes, we come to a stop outside a barred elevator, and he keys in a long code. When the doors open, he pulls me inside and shoots me a sideways glance.

“Fucking left babysitting,” he grumbles before the doors open, and I am once again pulled around. But this time, my surroundings puzzle me. Why am I in the living room of an expensive-looking hotel suite?

“Alpha Bastien will be up here to sort this shit out. Sit on your ass and wait for him,” the long-haired man says, and I can do nothing but wait for my death sentence.