006

The auction hall was massive, with towering ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and polished floors that reflected the golden light above. Expensive perfume mingled with the sharp smell of alcohol, while the low murmur of conversations rose and fell around the room. Alphas and their entourages filled the rows of seats, their dark suits, expensive watches, and confident expressions making it painfully clear that money and power were the only things that mattered to most of them. I stood backstage behind a heavy velvet curtain, twisting my fingers together as I listened to the clink of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter from the other side.

My forehead had stopped bleeding, but the skin was still tender, and every slight movement of my eyebrows sent a dull ache through my head. I kept touching the bandage the Matron had insisted on placing over the cut, checking that it was still secure, then dropping my hand whenever I noticed someone watching me. My palms were damp, and the fabric of my dress felt uncomfortable against my skin, as though every thread had suddenly become too tight. I tried to focus on the steady rhythm of my breathing, drawing air in through my nose and releasing it slowly through my mouth, but the moment I closed my eyes, I saw Caden Thorne's face again. His swollen nose. The scar on his cheek. Those stormy eyes watching me as if he were already deciding what to do with me.

"You are up next," one of the assistants said.

I nodded, forcing my fingers to uncurl before she could notice how tightly I had been gripping them. I wanted to ask whether there was still a way out, whether I could disappear through the back door and keep running until nobody could find me, but I knew the answer before the words even formed. The money had already been promised, the arrangements had been made. I needed the money. That was the ugly truth I kept returning to whenever my courage began to crumble.

The Matron appeared beside me with a microphone in her hand, looking as composed as though she were preparing to announce the winner of a harmless raffle instead of selling a woman to the highest bidder. She adjusted the front of her dress before turning to me.

"Remember what I told you."

"I remember," I replied, although the words felt like stones in my mouth.

"Good." She squeezed my arm once, her fingers pressing firmly into my skin before she released me. "Keep your head up, and don't do anything foolish."

The Matron turned away, stepping through the curtain and onto the stage while I remained in the shadows, watching the crowd through a narrow opening.

"Gentlemen," she announced, her smooth voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. "Welcome to tonight's auction. We have something very special for you. A woman who has survived more than most could imagine, a woman with the strength and resilience to carry the heir of an Alpha."

A few men exchanged knowing looks, while others leaned forward in their seats. One of them laughed under his breath, and the sound crawled beneath my skin. The Matron continued speaking about my health, my supposed suitability, and the qualities that made me worth the price they were about to pay, but I barely heard her.

The curtains parted, and the stage lights struck my face so suddenly that I blinked several times before my eyes adjusted. A sea of faces appeared before me, each one belonging to a man who had come here expecting to leave with something he wanted. Some watched me with open curiosity, others with thinly veiled hunger.

"The bidding will start at two million dollars," the Matron announced.

"Two million," a voice called immediately from the front row.

I turned my head slightly and saw a heavyset Alpha with slicked-back hair and a gold watch that glinted beneath the chandelier. His gaze moved over me with a familiarity that made my fingers curl against my palms, and when he smiled, I felt the skin between my shoulder blades tighten. I forced myself to look away before my face could betray the disgust twisting my mouth.

"Two and a half million," another man countered.

"Three million."

"Four million."

The numbers began climbing, each bid bringing another murmur from the audience, and I could hear the Matron repeating the amounts.

"Five million," another Alpha called.

The room fell quiet for a brief moment as the Matron scanned the audience, waiting for someone to raise the amount. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding against my ribs, each beat harder than the last. I lifted my eyes, and my gaze travelled past row after row of expensive suits until it reached the private balcony overlooking the stage.

And there he was.

Caden Thorne sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his broad shoulders resting against the back of his chair as though the entire auction were nothing more than an inconvenience he had agreed to tolerate. His stormy eyes were fixed on me, and even from that distance, I could see the swelling around his nose. It had become slightly crooked, and a trace of dried blood remained beneath one nostril. I dropped my hand to my side.

"Ten million," he said.

The words rang through the hall.

For a moment, nobody moved. I watched several Alphas turn toward the balcony, their brows lifting as they tried to determine whether they had heard him correctly. Ten million dollars. He had doubled the highest bid without hesitation, as though the amount meant nothing to him.

"Ten million dollars," the Matron repeated, and I heard the excitement creeping into her voice. "Do I hear any higher bids?"

Nobody answered immediately. A man near the front shifted in his chair, his jaw tightening as he looked toward Caden, but he eventually leaned back and folded his arms. Another Alpha muttered something to the person beside him, and a few heads turned toward the balcony again. None of them seemed willing to challenge him.

Caden, however, never looked at them. His eyes remained on me, and I felt the weight of that attention settle over my shoulders. It was not the same as the hungry stares from the men below. There was something far more deliberate about it, something that made me feel as though he had already reached a decision and was simply waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. And I had to fight the urge to take a step backward, even though there was nowhere for me to go.

"Ten million dollars," the Matron announced again. "Going once."

My heart lurched so hard that I felt it in my throat.

"Going twice."

No. No, no, no.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them that I did not care about the money anymore, that they could keep every dollar and let me walk out of this hall. I wanted to run back through the curtains, find the nearest exit, and keep going until I could no longer hear the Matron's voice or see Caden Thorne's face. But my feet remained rooted to the stage, and my mouth refused to open. I could feel sweat gathering beneath my arms, while the bandage on my forehead seemed to tighten against my skin. My body had understood the danger before my mind was willing to accept it, and every muscle felt braced for a blow that had not yet come.

"Sold! To the Alpha of the Blackfang Pack."

The gavel slammed down.

The sound struck through me, sharp and final, and I watched the Matron smile as though she had just secured the finest deal of her life. Around me, the audience began to stir again, their conversations rising as the auction moved toward its next stage, but I remained where I was, staring at the balcony. Ten million dollars. That was what Caden Thorne had paid for me, double the amount the Matron had mentioned yesterday.

I had spent the entire evening telling myself that I could survive this, that whatever happened next, I would find a way to endure it. But now, standing beneath the bright lights with the sound of the gavel still echoing in my ears, I could no longer pretend I knew what I was walking into. The man who had bought me was cursed, dangerous, and powerful enough to silence an entire room with two words. He was also the same man whose nose I had broken in a corridor less than an hour ago.

I'm so damn screwed.