They didn't drag me.
They walked me out like I was expensive.
Like I was fragile glass.
The hallway outside the auction room was quiet. Thick carpets. Soft lighting. Gold frames on the walls. Whoever ran this place liked luxury.
Or liked pretending sin could look beautiful.
I didn't speak.
Neither did they.
The elevator doors opened without a sound. I stepped inside. One guard pressed a button. Top floor.
Of course.
My reflection in the mirror barely looked like me. My hair messy. My lips pale. But my eyes…
My eyes were alive.
Good.
Let him see that.
The elevator opened into a private lounge. Dark wood. Floor-to-ceiling windows. The city glittered below like nothing terrible had happened tonight.
And he was there.
Standing near the window.
Back turned.
Hands in his pockets.
Tall. Still. Controlled.
The guards released my wrists and stepped back.
I didn't rub them.
I wouldn't show weakness.
"You can leave."
His voice was low.
Smooth.
The guards obeyed instantly.
The door closed.
And suddenly, it was just us.
My buyer.
And me.
He didn't turn around immediately.
"I expected you to cry," he said calmly.
I folded my arms slowly. "Disappointed?"
A pause.
Then he turned.
For a second, my breath caught.
Not because he was handsome.
But because he looked… untouchable.
Sharp jaw. Dark eyes. Clean suit. No wasted movement.
Danger, wrapped in control.
His gaze traveled over me slow. Assessing.
Not lustful.
Calculating.
"You're braver than the others," he said.
The others.
So this wasn't new.
I swallowed but kept my chin lifted. "If you wanted someone weak, you overpaid."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
Not a smile.
Something more dangerous.
"I never overpay."
His eyes locked onto mine fully now.
And something shifted in the air.
Like this wasn't just a transaction.
Like this was chess.
"Why did you buy me?" I asked.
Silence.
He walked toward me.
Slow.
Measured.
Each step controlled.
I didn't step back.
Even when he stopped close enough that I could feel his presence.
Close enough to see the faint scar near his eyebrow.
Close enough to smell something clean. Expensive.
"You ask bold questions," he murmured.
"I don't like being confused."
His hand lifted slightly.
For a moment, I thought he would touch me.
He didn't.
Instead, he tilted his head.
"You really don't recognize me?"
My stomach tightened.
The way he said it…
Not casual.
Personal.
"I've never seen you before."
That wasn't entirely true.
There was something about him.
Something familiar.
His jaw hardened slightly.
"Your father recognized me."
The world stopped.
My pulse pounded in my ears.
"What did you say?"
His eyes didn't blink.
"I was there the night he died."
The air left my lungs.
No.
No.
My fingers curled into fists.
"You—"
"Yes," he said calmly. "I'm the man you've been looking for."
The room felt smaller.
The city lights behind him blurred.
This wasn't coincidence.
This wasn't random.
He didn't buy me because I was valuable.
He bought me because I was his unfinished business.
I stepped closer instead of away.
My voice came out steady.
"If you killed him, you should've killed me too."
Something flashed in his eyes then.
Not anger.
Not regret.
Something darker.
"You think I would spend one hundred and fifty thousand just to kill you?"
My heart pounded harder.
"Then why?"
He leaned closer.
Close enough that his shadow fell over my face.
"Because," he said quietly, "you're going to be far more useful alive."
My legs ached from the rush of fear and adrenaline, but I forced myself to keep moving, every step calculated, every breath measured. The shadows seemed to shift around me, whispering threats I couldn't quite understand. I could hear voices faintly in the distance, some shouting, some muttering, some simply laughing, and it made the hairs on my arms stand up. My chest tightened, heart hammering so loud it felt like it might echo through the dark hallways, but I refused to let it control me.
I pressed myself against the cold wall, trying to become invisible, trying to vanish into the darkness as if that alone could protect me. My mind raced, replaying the numbers, the calls, the feeling of being nothing more than an object, a thing to be bought and traded. Rage bubbled under the fear, sharp and fiery, and I bit my lip to stop a scream from escaping. I refused to let them see me break, not yet. Not when the stakes were so high.
Every sound, every creak of the floor, every distant laugh became amplified, and I realized I had to pay attention to everything, to every detail. The slight shift in a shadow could mean life or death. A whisper might be a warning or a trick. I didn't know who I could trust, or if trust even existed in this place anymore. But I knew one thing sitting still, waiting, would get me nowhere.
I moved again, slower now, more cautiously, trying to memorize the layout of the room, the positions of the voices. Somewhere, a door opened, letting in a sliver of light that illuminated the floor just enough to see where to step. I almost stumbled, caught myself, and pressed my palm harder against the wall, grounding myself in the fear, in the tension, in the reality of what was happening.
And then I felt it a presence, close, calculated, deliberate. Someone had moved behind me. My skin tingled, my stomach dropped, and my body reacted before my mind could catch up. My breath hitched, and I forced my legs to keep moving, every fiber of my being screaming that I had to survive, that I had to stay ahead, that I could not falter.
The air smelled sharp, metallic, mixed with the faint scent of something burned. My throat was dry, my vision slightly blurred with adrenaline. I forced myself to slow my breathing, to take in every sense, to notice the subtle shifts the quiet footsteps, the faint rustle of clothing, the softest exhale. Someone was close, moving with purpose, and I couldn't risk being caught unaware.
I thought of my father, of the life I had known, of safety that now seemed impossibly far away. Anger and grief surged through me, but it mixed with something else: determination, defiance, the spark that whispered I could survive this, I would survive this. The fear was still there, sharp and gnawing, but I felt it bend around me, no longer paralyzing me, only sharpening my instincts, making me aware of every movement, every sound, every shadow.
I had to survive. Not just for me, but because someone had already decided my fate, and I refused to let them win so easily. Every shadow, every sound, every presence around me was a puzzle I had to solve, a challenge I had to meet. And somewhere deep inside, that spark of defiance flared brighter. I would find a way. I would find him. I would find a way to turn this nightmare into something I could control.
And even in the darkness, even in the fear, even with the unknown pressing in from all sides, I took a deep, steadying breath and moved forward. Survival wasn't enough. I needed answers. I needed control. I needed to make sure that whatever happened next, I was no longer just a pawn in someone else's game.