Chapter 4

The Auction & The Lycan’s Claim

The grand hall of Asher’s palace was bathed in golden light, the chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed guests. Laughter and chatter filled the air as noble families and powerful Alphas celebrated Kali’s miraculous return. The wine flowed freely, the music was enchanting, and the scent of power and wealth clung to the air like a heavy perfume.

“Look who it is, the wolfless omega,” Ayla’s eyes shone as she turned around to see her stepsister. “Oups, don’t they know about it?” she asked, looking around maliciously.

“What are you doing here?” Ayla asked her.

“It’s a party and I was invited on behalf of my father,” her stepsister responded and Ayla scoffed. Her father had never once let her take his place at an event. He was scared she would embarrass him.

“He is my father too,” Ayla said, her voice low and even. But her step sister laughed.

“Judging from the way you look, I highly doubt that,” she sipped her wine and walked away. Ayla could feel the tears already gathering around her eyes.

“Pull it together, Ayla. Be strong,” she tried to console herself.

Alya took a step back into the shadows, her hands clenched at her sides. Her dress—an elegant but simple white gown—felt like a cruel joke, she stood out from the other women's fancy dresses.. Servants moved like ghosts, refilling glasses and catering to the whims of their masters. None of them spared her a glance. None of them knew what was about to happen.

Asher had ensured that.

She had been summoned to the main hall without explanation, her heart pounding with unease as she stood near the grand staircase. When the music faded, and Asher raised his glass for a toast, she knew something was terribly wrong.

“My friends,” Asher’s voice rang out smoothly, drawing every eye toward him. He stood beside Kali, his arm resting protectively around her waist. “Tonight, we celebrate the return of my beloved Kali, the rightful queen of our house.” A round of cheers erupted, but Alya barely heard them over the blood rushing in her ears. “But that is not all.” His smile was slow, deliberate, and cruel. “Tonight, we offer something truly rare. Something… astonishing.”

Alya’s stomach twisted.

Asher’s gaze slid to her, and suddenly, every eye in the room followed. A spotlight beamed down, illuminating her frozen form. But she was not the only one. Other ladies lined up right beside her and the spotlight beamed on them too.

“These women,” he said, his words rolling off his tongue like a command. “Are all yours for the taking.” His voice dripped with false admiration, masking the venom beneath. “And tonight, they are available to the highest bidder.”

Alya’s breath left her in a violent rush.

The room erupted in murmurs, some shocked, others intrigued. The Alphas in attendance straightened, eyes gleaming with interest. Most of the ladies were nobodies and could be used for anything.

“Alpha Asher,” Alya choked out, horror clawing at her throat. “You can’t—please”

He silenced her with a sharp look. “You should be honored.”

Honored.

She felt sick.

A guard stepped forward, taking the lady beside her, leading her toward the raised platform at the center of the room. Alya could see her legs trembling, but she forced herself to stay upright. She didn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.

“The bidding starts at ten thousand,” Asher announced, his voice light, as if this were nothing more than a game.

A tall, broad-shouldered Alpha stepped forward, a smirk playing on his lips. “Fifteen thousand.”

“Twenty,” another countered.

“Sold to the Alpha with the large cane!” Asher yelled like he just won a price.

After what seemed like forever, Asher stood up again. “Next on the list, is the daughter of Stormbringer’s Alpha,” Ayla’s heart skipped a bit. “The bidding starts at twenty thousand,” Asher said and sat down.

Ayla’s heart sank. She couldn’t believe she was worth just twenty thousand to him. She could see the men, already devouring her with their eyes.

“Twenty thousand,” a man with a beard, walked forward with his hands in his pocket. He smacked his lips as he stared at her.

“Twenty five,” someone spoke, his voice slighter higher than the rest of them in the crowd. 

The numbers climbed quickly. Twenty-five. Thirty. Forty. After the last number there was nothing else but silence.

Alya clenched her fists. Each bid felt like another nail in her coffin, sealing her fate. She searched the crowd, looking for an escape, a miracle—something, anything.

Then, a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“One hundred thousand.”

The room fell silent.

Alya’s breath caught in her throat. The sound of a wheelchair moving filled the hall. A man sat on it with his companion behind him. The man had a card that read the number his friend had called out earlier.

Ayla looked at the man on the wheelchair, something about him felt familiar. The man tapped on his companion again and the same number was called out. The man on the wheelchair is the Lycan Ayla had held in the forest/

Asher’s expression darkened. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I believe that makes me the highest bidder,” Slade said smoothly, stepping forward. He exuded an effortless authority, the kind that demanded obedience without question. “Unless someone wishes to challenge me?”

No one spoke.

A hundred thousand was an outrageous sum. Even the wealthiest Alphas hesitated at such a price. More than that, no one dared to challenge a Lycan of Slade’s caliber.

Asher’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t a game.”

Slade’s gaze never wavered. “No, it’s not.”

A tense silence stretched between them before Asher finally exhaled. “Very well,” he said stiffly. “Sold.”

The gavel came down with a finality that sent a shiver through Alya’s spine.

The companion moved toward her, his presence overwhelming. Before she could protest, before she could process what had just happened, he reached out and clasped her wrist in a firm but careful grip.

“You belong to him now,” he murmured, pointing at the wheelchair. his voice a low rumble meant only for her ears.

Alya shivered, but not from fear.

Without another word, she was led out of the hall, past the stunned guests, past Asher’s cold glare, and into the night. She sat in the car with the man and he finally spoke.

“You are mine now,” with that voice she stared at him, she would recognise that voice anywhere.

“It’s you,” she mumbled. And suddenly, the fear crept in.

She didn’t know what awaited her.

But one thing was certain—she was no longer a pawn in Asher’s game.

She had been claimed by the Lycan.