Bianca
Fear and rust filled the cage. I forced myself to breathe, pressing my back against the cold bars. Steady. Control your panic. The basement echoed with a whip cracking in shadows, scraping chairs, and voices yelling in Italian. The auction house was crowded tonight.
Wolves. Humans. Vampires, maybe. Anyone with enough money to buy what they wanted.
Or who they wanted.
I was lot number seventeen.
"Next up," the auctioneer barked, his voice sharp and bored. "Female. Twenty-two years old. No pack affiliation. No Alpha claim. Starting bid—fifty thousand euros."
A guard yanked open my cage. His fingers dug into my arm as he dragged me onto the platform. The lights blinded me briefly, but I kept my eyes ahead and my chin up. Give them a look.
Give them the impression that I'm weak. I had given them the impression that I'm weak, I thought, pushing that tactic to the front of my mind. I had long since discovered that my only remaining weapon was underestimation. As the crowd shouted, "Fifty!" "Sixty!" "Seventy-five!" I looked around the room, desperately searching for a way out, even as I knew escape was impossible. The door has guards. Wolves with guns on their hips and lifeless eyes. I had previously made two attempts to flee. I had paid for it with blood both times. "One hundred thousand!" The bids continued to rise. I felt my stomach turn. I would belong to whoever bought me tonight.
Use me. Maybe kill me when they get bored.
They would use me. Maybe even kill me when bored, I admitted to myself, refusing to flinch from the harsh truth. A pull. Sharp and sudden, like a hook buried in my chest. My wolf stirred for the first time in months, clawing at the surface of my mind.
Mate.
No.
No, that was not feasible.
I followed the urge, sweeping my eyes over the throng until I found him.
He was partially obscured by the shade as he sat in the rear corner. But I could see him plainly even in the low light. Dark hair slicked back.
Sharp jaw. A black suit that fit him like a second skin. He was not bidding. He was not even moving.
He was just observing me.
And like a wolf spotting prey, his cold, golden, predatory gaze fastened on me.
My breath caught.
"Two hundred thousand," he said.
His voice sliced the room like a razor.
Deep. Smooth. Absolute.
The auctioneer stumbled. "Two—two hundred thousand euros from the gentleman in the back."
Silence. No one else bid.
Nobody dared.
The crowd parted as he stood. His stride was confident, quiet, every move deliberate.
Controlled. Dangerous.
He paused in front of the platform and gave me a glance. "Mine," he murmured.
It wasn't a question.
The auctioneer stumbled.
"S-sold. Lot seventeen to Mr. Salvatore."
Salvatore.
My blood turned to ice, raw terror curling through my veins, electrifying every nerve in my body.
Everyone knew that name. Dante Salvatore. Alpha of the Salvatore pack.
Head of the Italian mafia. A man whose kingdom was founded on blood, terror, and corpses buried in shallow graves.
And apparently, my mate.
I was pushed forward by the guard. Before I could catch myself, a hand clasped around my wrist as I staggered down the platform.
His hand.
The bond flared between us, hot and violent.
Our bond flared—hot, violent. My wolf screamed as I yanked back my arm. "Don't touch me," I said.
Something that wasn't quite a smile curved his lips.
"You are mine now, piccola.
I will touch you whenever I want."
"I belong to no one."
"Wrong." He stepped closer, and I hated that I did not step back. "You belong to me. The bond says so.
And I'll make sure you regret fighting me. "I said, "I've been regretting things my entire life." "One more will not kill me."
His eyes sparked with something.
Surprise, maybe. Or interest.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "You have fire. Good.
I was afraid you would be boring.
Then he withdrew and pointed to one of his men. "Take her to the car." Hold on—"
However, the guard was already pulling me toward the door. My eyes snapped back to Dante as I squirmed in his hold.
He continued to observe me. Still grinning that frightening, icy smile. "Bianca, welcome to your new life," he called after me. "Try not to die too quickly."
It was a black vehicle.
Expensive.
The kind of car that shouted murder and wealth.
My wrists were zip-tied in front of me as I sat in the back seat. Two soldiers, silent and expressionless, flanked me. Dante sat in front, speaking rapid Italian into his phone.
I managed to catch a few words.
Territorio. Nemici. Sangue.
Territory. Enemies. Blood.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to steady my thoughts. What am I supposed to do now? How can I get out? This was bad. Worse than bad. I realized, with sinking dread, that I'm trapped. How am I supposed to survive this? The connection between us was strong and unbreakable. He was a monster, though. A murderer. A man who commanded the underworld with an iron grip and crushed anyone who stood in his way without hesitation.
And now I was his.
The car stopped. The guard pulled me onto a gravel driveway. A massive estate rose iron gates, stone walls, armed men everywhere.
A prison disguised as a palace.
Dante materialized next to me, his hand encircling my upper arm. "Inside." "Where are you taking me?"
"Home."
"This is not my home."
He came to a halt and looked at me. In the moonlight, his eyes were molten gold, and I briefly saw a glimpse of the wolf hidden beneath his skin. "It is now," he declared. "You are my mate. My Luna. And you will learn to accept that."
"I would rather die."
His smile widened. "Careful, piccola.
I may accept your offer. "After that, he pulled me inside. He was as cold as the house. marble floors. high ceilings. The walls are covered in expensive artwork. It didn't look like a house, but rather a museum.
Dante stopped in front of a heavy wooden door after guiding me down a lengthy hallway. He shoved me inside after pushing it open.
"This is your room," he declared. "Until I decide what to do with you, you will remain here." I stared at him, frustration bubbling inside. I can't be imprisoned indefinitely, I thought. "Try me. I am your mate and that's the only reason you're alive," he cut me off. The bond flared up again as he moved closer, stronger this time. out a whine.
However, I refused to back down. He whispered, "You think you are special because fate tied us together?" "You're not. You are a vulnerability. an obligation. And if you give me one reason to believe you will betray me, I will kill you myself. "Then do it," I muttered. "
"Because I'll never bow down to you. "He just stared at me for a long time. He then extended his hand and ran a finger along the side of my face. I winced. "You will," he replied. "You will break sooner or later. They all do. "After that, he turned to leave and locked the door behind him. I collapsed onto the bed and covered my face with my hands.
What had I just gotten myself into?