เกิดใหม่อีกครา บรรพบุรุษสั่งให้ข้าหาสามี

The champagne was expensive, the dress was borrowed, and I was about to be sold to the highest bidder.

My mother used to say that a woman's worth couldn't be measured by men with money. She died six months ago. Apparently the men with money disagreed.

"Lot seventeen." The auctioneer's voice boomed through the underground hall. "Rielle Morven. Twenty-three years old. Unmated. Bloodline verified."

The spotlight hit me, turning my skin to porcelain under the harsh glare. The black dress they'd poured me into clung to every curve, barely covering what mattered. They wanted us to look desperate. Available. Ready to be owned.

And I was desperate. Just not for the reasons anyone here would guess.

Beyond the light, the darkness breathed with wealth and power. Alphas and nobles gathered in the shadows, their eyes gleaming as they assessed the merchandise.

Me.

"Bidding starts at fifty thousand," the auctioneer continued.

A paddle raised in the back. Then another.

I scanned the crowd, not looking at the bidders. Looking past them. Searching for the one face that mattered. The one Alpha who had held my face in his hands three weeks ago and sworn he would get me out of this.

Kieran.

My boyfriend of two years. The man I had given everything to... my trust, my time, my body on a night when he whispered forever and I was foolish enough to believe him. The man who went silent three weeks ago, right when his father arranged this auction and my name appeared on the list.

"One hundred thousand," someone called.

I searched the dark. Nothing.

"One-fifty."

The bids climbed, and with each one, something inside me went quiet. Kieran was not coming. Maybe he had never planned to.

I was completely alone.

"Two hundred thousand."

The new voice came from the far corner of the room and hit the air like a crack in stone. Deep. Rough. Wrong.

The crowd went silent. Not quiet. Silent.

I turned toward the voice.

A man stood in the deepest shadow of the far corner, half-hidden, as if the darkness itself was making room for him. Even from across the hall, I could see he was massive... six-five at least, with shoulders that could splinter door frames. The air around him tasted like copper. Like the moment before blood hits the floor.

He stepped into the light.

Not an Alpha.

I knew Alphas. I had grown up around them, dated one. I knew the way their dominance pressed against a room like a hand against a window.

This was something else entirely.

His eyes were silver. Not the pale gray of werewolves... pure liquid silver, like molten metal that hadn't quite cooled. His face was all sharp angles and brutal beauty. He wore a suit that probably cost more than most people's annual salary, tailored around a body built for damage, not for show.

And he was looking at me... not at the dress, not at the skin the dress revealed. At me. Like he had been waiting.

"Two-fifty," another bidder countered, trying to sound confident.

The silver-eyed man's lips curved. It was not a smile, it was a formality.

"Five million."

The room erupted.

"Sir, I don't think..."

"Five. Million." His voice cut through the chaos like a blade. He was not angry, he was just absolutely certain.

Something settled across his face... a total finality that was neither a decision nor an interest. It was the expression of a man who had made this purchase long before he even entered the room.

"Final offer. Anyone else?"

Silence fell like a guillotine.

The auctioneer stammered. "S... s... sold. Lot seventeen to... to..."

"Caspian Valdyr." He said his own name like he was handing someone a loaded weapon. "Tell her to come to me."

My legs carried me down the platform steps before my brain could object, toward this man who had just bought me like I was something on a shelf.

Up close, his scent hit me first. Smoke and aged whiskey and something underneath that I had no name for. Something that made my wolf press against the inside of my ribs and whimper.

She was not afraid.

She recognized him.

"You're not a werewolf," I said. My voice shook, and I hated it.

Something flickered across his expression. He was not surprised. It was as if he had been waiting for exactly those words.

"No." His hand moved, and before I could step back, his fingers were under my chin, tilting my face up. The touch was precise... not rough, but absolute. "I'm rather what werewolves tell stories about," he said quietly. "The thing in the dark they warn their children never to mention."

His thumb settled against the edge of my jaw.

"I know what you are, Rielle. I know you more than you know yourself."

"I'm not yours..."

"You are." No aggression. No raised voice. Just a statement delivered with the same certainty as gravity. "And you have been mine for longer than you know."

"You're insane."

"Probably." He released my chin and placed his hand on my lower back. The heat burned through the thin fabric. "But I'm also the only thing standing between you and a dozen Alphas who would have you broken before sunrise. So tonight, you come with me. And you stay alive. That's all."

He was dangerous, possibly insane, and definitely not anything I understood.

But without him, I would be dragged to some Alpha's bed tonight and used until something inside me stopped working. At least with Caspian Valdyr, I had something I had not had ten minutes ago.

A variable I could not predict.

"Fine," I said. "But if you think..."

"I don't think." He took my hand. "I know. Now walk with me before I stop being polite about it."

He led me through the crowd that parted like water before a ship. No one spoke. No one moved. They simply stepped aside and let us pass.

We were halfway to the exit when someone stepped into our path.

Kieran.

He looked terrible. Pale, sweating through his collar, his eyes wild with something caught between guilt and panic.

"Rielle, wait..."

"Move." Caspian's voice dropped into a register I felt in my teeth.

"I can explain. My father forced me. I didn't want..."

"Move."

"She's my girlfriend..."

"Was." The word came from my mouth before I knew it was coming. "I was your girlfriend. Right up until you let your father sell me to pay off your gambling debts."

He flinched. And for one second I saw clearly the thing I had spent two years refusing to see. He was weak. Not cruel, not evil. Just weak. The kind of weak that lets terrible things happen because stopping them would require becoming someone he did not have the spine to be.

"I'm sorry. I'll fix this. I'll get you back..."

Caspian moved faster than thought.

One moment Kieran was standing. The next, he was pinned against the wall with Caspian's hand around his throat, feet dangling.

"She is not yours to get back." Caspian's tone stayed conversational. "She is mine now. Bought. Paid for. And if you ever come near her again..." His grip tightened. Kieran choked. "...I will make sure your father receives what is left of you in a very small box. Nod if you understand."

Kieran nodded frantically, face going purple.

Caspian dropped him. Kieran hit the floor and stayed there, gasping.

Then Caspian turned back to me, adjusting his cuff.

"Ready?"

I stared at him... this man who had spent five million on me, threatened murder without raising his voice, and was now asking if I was ready as if we were leaving a dinner party.

"Who are you?"

Something shifted behind his eyes, something almost tired.

"Ask me again when you're ready for the answer. For now, I'm the man keeping you alive. That will have to be enough."

He offered his hand.

I took it and we stepped out together.

The night air hit me like cold water. A black SUV waited at the curb, door already open.

I climbed in. Not because he told me to, but because every other direction led back to the auction.

Caspian slid in beside me. The door closed.

His arm came to rest along the seatback behind me. Not around me, he was not touching me. It was just there.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then his head turned toward me, and in the shifting streetlight, his silver eyes found mine.

"Tell me, Rielle." His voice was low, private. "How long has it been since anyone made you feel safe?"

I didn't answer.

And I didn't answer because I searched for the memory and couldn't find it. I reached back through two years with Kieran, through the months of my mother's illness, through the years before that, and came up empty. Safe was a word I knew the definition of but couldn't attach to a memory.

The silence stretched. A muscle in his jaw tightened.

"That long huh," he said quietly. This man wasn't throwing out a game, he was just someone already making a decision they wouldn't go back on.

Then his hand moved to my thigh. Heavy. Warm. Present.

I should have pushed it away.

But I let it stay.

Outside, the city lights disappeared, and the road stretched into darkness.