Chapter 2

Celine

They woke me up with cold water. A full bucket of it. My body jerked before my mind could catch up, and I gasped as the chill hit every inch of my skin. My gown—what little they gave me—clung to my body like wet silk. It stuck to my breasts, pressed against my stomach, and left nothing to the imagination.

I was shivering. The air was cold, but it wasn’t just that. I felt exposed. Stripped bare even though I still had clothes on.

My nipples hardened instantly, and I hated it. I hated that I had a body they could use, measure, parade.

And then I noticed—everyone around me was already standing in line.

Where the hell were we?

I blinked hard and looked around. Some of the girls were half-naked. Some fully. Their hands tied in front of them like livestock. Like we were nothing but objects that didn't matter. Just things. Pieces of meat waiting to be inspected.

My feet were already cold, stuck to the stone floor. My knees ached from the awkward position they’d left me in. I tried to push myself up slowly, not wanting to attract attention.

From the far end of the room, a woman with a sharp chin and even sharper eyes moved slowly down the line. She had something in her hand—papers, maybe a list. She looked at each girl like she was examining an animal she might not want to buy.

She pointed at one. Shook her head at another.

The girl next to me—brown wavy hair, face blotchy from crying—was breathing hard. Her chest rose and fell like she couldn’t get enough air in. Her eyes were red, swollen. Probably from hours of begging.

Or maybe from realizing no one was going to save us.

She looked like she was trying not to throw up. Her wrists trembled where they were tied together. I could see her biting the inside of her cheek to stay calm. Her legs kept shifting like they might give out.

Then she whispered, voice cracking, “I want to die. I want to die before they touch me.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My own mouth felt dry. My throat burned. I wanted to pray, scream, run—but none of that mattered here.

Some of the girls whispered back. Some begged the guards. Some just stood there, resigned, like they’d already died inside.

I wasn’t sure which one I was.

A few girls… they weren’t afraid. Not really. They stood with their chests out, like this was some kind of opportunity. Like being chosen by him would mean safety, power. They were delusional.

Being chosen didn’t mean freedom. It meant being owned.

We all knew who they were choosing for. No one had to say his name out loud.

Alpha Alaric Varkas.

I didn’t want to be chosen. I didn’t want him to look at me. I didn’t want him to even breathe near me. I just wanted to go home. Even if that home no longer existed.

The woman evaluating us turned away, giving a nod to someone in the back. That’s when I saw him.

A man—tall, broad, terrifying—stepped forward. His presence shut everyone up. Even the crying stopped for a second. He had this kind of command that didn’t need to be announced. You just knew.

He didn’t speak at first. Just walked down the line like he was counting corpses.

Then the leader of the warriors, the same bastard who’d dragged me from my pack, barked, “On your feet! All of you!”

The sharpness of his voice made the brown-haired girl next to me flinch hard. She almost fell trying to get upright.

My legs refused to move. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to disappear. Just sink into the floor.

I bent my head low. Maybe if I didn’t move, if I kept my eyes down, if I stayed silent—he wouldn’t see me.

I kept breathing. In through my nose, out through my mouth. Just stay still, Celine. Blend in.

I heard the shuffling of feet, the slow steps of heavy boots moving down the line.

One girl whimpered when he passed. Another one started muttering prayers. The entire place felt like it was holding its breath.

Then the footsteps stopped.

Right in front of me.

Goosebumps spread over my arms. My stomach dropped.

I kept my head bowed. My hair hung low, wet and stuck to my cheek. I tried not to breathe too loud.

But I felt it—his eyes.

Two boots. Black. Polished. Wide stance. They were massive. I could see a scar on the front of one of them, probably from battle. Or maybe from crushing someone’s ribs.

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there.

My heart thudded in my chest like it was trying to escape.

He was looking at me.

Not the girl next to me. Not past me. Me.

Why?

What was he seeing?

My fingers clenched into the wet fabric of my gown. I didn’t lift my head. I couldn’t. If I looked at him, I’d break. I just knew it.

I heard him shift a little, like he was leaning forward. A low hum left his throat, something between thought and approval.

“Raise your head.”

His voice was deep. Cold. It didn’t sound angry or even curious—it sounded final. Like he was stating a law of nature.

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t move.

His voice dropped, and this time it hit something inside me. “Don’t make me ask again.”

I swallowed hard. My lips were dry. Every part of me screamed to stay hidden.

But I did what I was told.

Slowly, I raised my head.

And our eyes met.

Fuck, I didn't expect him to look this good but beyond these looks, I could see a cruel being, merciless. I saw calculations. Like he was doing math in his head. Like he was measuring me.

His gaze dropped slightly, dragging over my wet gown, my throat, the swell of my breasts. I felt exposed, violated, small.

Then he looked back at my face and… smiled.

A cruel, subtle twitch of his mouth.

He liked what he saw.

I felt sick.

He turned to the guard next to him and gave a nod. “That one.”