The crowd didn’t hesitate.
Bidding erupted instantly, loud and aggressive.
Even without her face visible, men shouted out obscene amounts of money for ownership of a body.It showed exactly how little regard these animals had for another human being—how easily they stripped someone of dignity, of choice, of humanity.
The girl heard the numbers.I saw it land on her.Her chest rose too fast.Her trembling worsened.Her shame was palpable, radiating off her skin as the numbers climbed.
And climbed.
And climbed.
Gianni muttered beside me, his voice thick with disgust.
“Fucking hell.I’d like nothing more than to burn this entire place to the fucking ground.”
My jaw flexed hard enough to ache.He wasn’t alone in thinking that.
Girl after girl came out.One crying so hard she couldn’t stand straight.Another drugged to the point her eyes barely stayed open.One completely hollow, like her soul had been scraped out.Each one was bought.Sold.Taken.And I was left with nothing but disgust swimming through my veins.
Then the announcer stepped forward again and adjusted his mic.The crowd hushed.The lights shifted.
My pulse stopped.Then spiked.
“Next up is Lot 17.”
I knew it was her before she stepped out.It hit me in a place deeper than instinct; a feeling so old it was primal, bone-deep.My entire body went still, coiled tight, bracing for a truth I already felt cracking through me.
She appeared before me.Neve.Her brown curls spilled down her back like a signature only I could recognize.She stumbled into the glass tunnel, unfocused and unsteady, her steps barely coordinating.Disoriented and hurt.
My breath caught and lodged in my throat, refusing to move.
I couldn’t swallow.I couldn’t breathe.I couldn’t do a goddamn thing except watch.
Even beneath the mask, I saw the rise of her swollen lip, bruised and split.The mask sat crooked, tied loosely so her hazel eyes showed through.And those eyes were wide, bright, stubborn, alive.
Alive.
Every muscle in my body locked.A taut chain of fury ran through me, tightening until it vibrated.My fingers curled into fists.My jaw ached from the pressure.My vision narrowed to a pinpoint.It was just her, trembling in that tunnel, and the shadows of the men who had hurt her.
Gianni leaned closer, his voice a low whisper.
“Is that your girl?”
My girl.
The words rammed into me like a punch.I nodded once.It was shallow, rough, the only motion I was capable of without letting the rage rip a hole in my chest.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.“They really messed her up.”
I didn’t respond.I couldn’t.Because the fury rising inside me wasn’t normal anger.It was feral.Violent.A cold, lethal promise coiling under my ribs.Someone had done this to her.Someone had laid their hands on her.Someone had thought they could take what was not theirs to touch.And whoever those men were would pay with their lives.They just didn’t know it yet.
The announcer continued, “A fresh acquisition.Premium stock.Unbroken.Fierce.And we all know that obedience can be trained.”A laugh rippled through the audience.Something inside me tore as the bidding started again.
Men raised fingers, nodded heads, called numbers.
Then a voice sliced through the room.Deep.Harsh.Violent.
“Fifty thousand.”