Four

Chapter four

Aryn

The door swung open as two guards grabbed me from the floor. The bright morning sun shine into my eyes as they pulled me out of the room and I squinted my eyes shut.

I was tossed to the hands of a woman and one of the guards told her to clean me up nicely because boss wanted me. She nodded and took me to a room. Unlike the auction house, I was bathed with warm fragrant water and dressed in a very skimpy black silk lingerie. The woman looked at me with a pitying gaze before taking me out of the room. The guards leered at me and dragged me again and this time I tried to fight. I snatched my hands from their grip and tried to run but I didn't take two steps before they caught me and one of them swung me over his shoulders.

"No, no! Please let me go." I screamed but they just laughed as one of them put a disgusting slimy hand on my bare butt.

Suddenly I was dropped down to the ground and the door slammed shut behind me, making me jump. My wrists ached from the guards’ bruising grip, and I wanted to cry—again. The room reeked of whiskey and leather, but I didn't care, I just wanted out of here. My legs buckled as they shoved me forward, and I barely caught myself against a shiny desk.

“Please, please,” I muttered under my breath, my voice cracking.

“Stand the fuck up,” came a voice, cold and sharp as a blade.

I flinched, slowly lifting my gaze to look at the man who had touched me with so much gentleness days ago. Tall, menacing, and every bit the wicked soul he was. His golden eyes pinned me in place, gleaming like molten steel.

“Have you made your decision now? Because we need you to be,” he said, voice flat. Like I was a goddamn object, not a human being.

“No!” I whimpered, backing away. Tears began stream down my face again, they kept running down no matter how hard I tried to stop them. “Please, you don’t understand. I—I don’t belong here!”

“Shut up.” snapped one of the guards, and before I could process the motion, his hand flew across my face.

The slap was like fire exploding across my cheek, knocking me to the floor. I gasped, clutching my face as the world spun around me.

“Who the fuck told you to touch her?” The man's voice was quiet, almost calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

The guard, looking proud of himself, shrugged. “She was being a little bitch, boss.”

It seems that was a wrong move.

The next second, the loud crack of a gunshot shattered the air. I screamed as blood sprayed across my dress and face. The guard collapsed at my feet, dead.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I sobbed, crawling backward on shaking hands and knees.

“Shut. The. Fuck up,” the man snapped, rubbing his temples like my meltdown was giving him a headache. “Get this shit out of here,” he barked at his men.

I hugged my knees, rocking as they dragged the corpse away like trash. My chest heaved, and my tears wouldn’t stop.

“For fuck’s sake,” the man muttered. “I don’t have time for this.”

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, sipping it like nothing had happened. I wanted to hate him, but all I could feel was terror.

Then he turned to me, his golden eyes narrowing like a predator locking onto prey. "Get on the fucking bed," he said, his voice low but laced with menace.

My stomach twisted into a knot.

I shook my head, trembling so violently that the flimsy black silk clinging to my body felt suffocating. "Please… no… don't do this—"

"Don't make me fucking repeat myself," he snapped, his tone sharp enough to slice through steel.

Before I could even attempt to retreat, he crossed the room in two strides, grabbing my arm in an iron grip. His fingers bit into my skin as he yanked me upright and shoved me toward the bed.

"Strip," he barked.

My breath caught, my chest heaving as I stammered, "I can't… please… I can't…"

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as his golden eyes burned with impatience. "You can, and you fucking will," he growled, his voice like a whip cracking through the room.

I froze, my hands clutching the fabric of the lingerie like it could somehow shield me.

He stepped closer, the heat radiating from his body suffocating. "Do it," he ordered, his tone ice-cold.

When he leaned in to kiss me, I turned my face away. My heart raced, terror mixing with defiance, though I knew it was a losing battle.

"Look at me," he hissed, grabbing my chin with brutal force. His fingers dug into my jaw as he forced me to meet his blazing eyes.

His lips slammed onto mine, hard and punishing. It wasn’t a kiss—it was a fucking declaration of ownership, a cruel reminder that I was nothing more than a thing he could take.

But I didn’t react. I couldn’t. My body remained stiff, my lips frozen, my mind retreating to a place where he couldn’t reach me.

When he pulled back, there was something like frustration flickering in his eyes. His hand hovered near my face as though he was considering something, but then he let out a sharp curse.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Stepping back, he gestured toward the bed. “Cover yourself up. Sleep.”

The command caught me off guard. I hesitated, unsure whether to move, but his glare left no room for argument.

I grabbed the thin silk robe from the end of the bed, my fingers fumbling as I pulled it around me like armor.

He turned away, stripping off his shirt with practiced ease. His muscles rippled under the dim light, but there was nothing alluring about him—just raw, dangerous power. He climbed onto the bed, lying on his side, and closed his eyes like nothing had happened.

“Sleep,” he said again, his voice quieter but no less commanding.

I stayed at the edge of the bed, hugging my knees to my chest. My body trembled, and my breath came in uneven gasps as I fought to stay silent.

Every nerve in my body was on edge, screaming for me to run, but I couldn’t.

Not with him lying so close, not with the knowledge of what he could do lingering in the back of my mind.

So I stayed frozen, pressed against the farthest edge of the bed, too scared to move. Too scared to breathe.