The air in the hotel room hung thick and stale, heavy with the scent of sweat, blood, and raw exertion. Ravenna's body finally went limp between them, her head lolling forward as unconsciousness claimed her completely.
Her earlier defiance had shattered somewhere in the middle of it all, replaced by broken sounds that eventually faded into silence. Akshat pulled away first, breathing steady but his eyes still burning with that cold fire. Alexander stepped back too, wiping his hands on a discarded towel, his face a mask of reluctant duty rather than satisfaction.
They dressed in silence. Akshat shrugged back into his black shirt and suit, the fabric settling over his muscles like armor. Alexander did the same, his movements efficient, the expensive watch on his wrist catching the dim light.
He wasn't some ordinary tag-along; the man carried real power—money, connections, and the kind of loyalty that ran deeper than blood, all sealed by that single shared drink of soju. Akshat had called on those resources more times than he could count, and Alexander never hesitated.
Manya finally turned from the wall, her face pale and eyes wide. "Where are you two going now?" Her voice came out smaller than she probably wanted.
Akshat zipped up his jacket, glancing at her briefly. "I will save everyone, including Vanya. You should go home."
She shook her head immediately, stepping forward with a desperation that made her voice crack. "No. Please, Akshat. She's my best friend. I can't just sit at home waiting. Let me come with you. I'll stay out of the way if I have to, but don't leave me behind." Tears welled up again, but she didn't bother wiping them. She begged, words tumbling out in a rush—how she owed Vanya, how the guilt would eat her alive, how she needed to do something. Akshat stared at her for a long moment, jaw tight, weighing the risks. The silence stretched until he finally exhaled.
"Fine," he said. "But you follow orders. No heroics."
Alexander had already moved to the side, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was calm and authoritative as he spoke to the authorities, feeding them precise details. He gave the exact hotel address, described the evidence they were leaving behind—Harsh's bloodied confession recorded on a hidden device in Akshat's pocket, copies of transaction logs Ravenna had foolishly kept on her phone, coordinates linking back to the auction network, and photos of the missing girls from AUMC University. "Yes, two suspects in custody. One with severe hand trauma, the other unconscious. Trafficking ring. Fallen Star Auction Hall. We've secured digital proofs—bank transfers, client lists, everything. Officers should arrive within ten minutes." He hung up, nodding once to Akshat. The system would handle the cleanup; Alexander's influence made sure of that.
______
Morning light filtered through the tall windows of an unmarked office on the outskirts of the city. Akshat stood across from Shogun Kurogami, the powerful man who had shaped him in ways he still didn't fully knows, No greetings were exchanged. Kurogami simply slid a golden invitation across the polished table, followed by three intricate golden masks that gleamed under the lights.
"Use them in the auction hall," Kurogami said, his voice carrying the weight of old authority. "Do what you can."
Akshat picked up the invitation and one of the masks, turning it over in his hands. He didn't ask questions. He never did with Kurogami.
Later that day, the three of them moved through the private terminal with purpose. Akshat wore a full white suit that made him look almost ghostly under the sunlight—sharp, expensive, and deliberately noticeable. Alexander walked beside him in a tailored grey suit, exuding quiet power, every bit the wealthy bodyguard and loyal right hand.
Manya had chosen a beautiful red dress that hugged her figure, elegant enough to blend into high-society filth but practical enough to move in. She kept adjusting the hem, nerves clearly eating at her.
They boarded the private plane—another perk pulled from Alexander's resources without a second thought. The jet's engines hummed to life as they settled into the leather seats.
The coordinates pointed toward North East Dakota, deep into territory where the Fallen Star Auction Hall operated far from prying eyes.
As the plane climbed into the sky, Akshat stared out the window, golden mask resting on the table beside him. His mind drifted briefly to what awaited them.
_____
Miles away, in the dimly lit backrooms of the auction hall, Vanya knelt on the cold floor without a stitch of clothing. Seven masked figures circled her, their laughter low and mocking. One yanked her hair, forcing her head back while another traced rough fingers along her exposed skin, commenting crudely on her body as if she were livestock. She trembled but stayed silent, tears streaking her face as they humiliated her—poking, prodding, making her pose and beg for small mercies that never came. The masks hid their faces, but their eyes gleamed with entitlement. This was just the warm-up before the real bidding began.
_______
Back on the plane, the cabin lights dimmed slightly as they cruised toward their destination. Akshat slipped the golden invitation into his inner pocket. Manya sat across from him, fidgeting with the hem of her red dress again. Alexander checked his phone one last time, confirming their landing arrangements.
The Fallen Star Auction Hall was close now. Whatever came next, they would face it together.
End of ch RD 7
To be continue...
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