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"Alright, strip."

Riven’s ears flattened. "Excuse ?!"

"You heard her," the golden-haired one smirked, tossing him a damp towel. "Clean up, pretty boy. You can’t be out there looking like you just crawled out of the woods."

Which, technically, he had.

Still, he scowled but wiped his face and arms off begrudgingly. He barely had ti to react before they started yanking off his outer layers, replacing them with suspenders attached to his pants—but no shirt.

Riven looked down at himself.

Then at the waitresses.

Then back at himself.

"...What is this?"

"You’re tonight’s special attraction."

His ears shot up. "What kind of tavern is this?!"

"A very successful one," the curly-haired waitress chirped. "Now, go. Don’t disappoint."

And just like that, they shoved him onto the center stage.

Riven barely had ti to register the cheering crowd before the lights hit him. He stood there, chest bare, suspenders clinging to his toned fra, ears twitching, tail puffed up in alarm.

What was he supposed to do?!

Dance? Pose? Sing?!

He gulped.

Riven stood on the stage, wide-eyed, completely frozen as the crowd stared at him. The loud chatter in the tavern had dimd, and in its place was a curious silence filled with expectation. His ears twitched, tail stiff behind him as he resisted the urge to bolt.

They wanted him to perform.

That much was clear.

But what the hell was he supposed to do?!

His mind scrambled for a solution, any solution, but all he could co up with was the fact that he had never danced in his life. Not properly, anyway. And the way the crowd’s eyes were glued to him, waiting, made him feel like prey.

A bead of sweat rolled down his back.

"...Okay," he muttered under his breath. "You’ve survived worse. Just—just move your body, Riven."

And so he moved.

It started with a hesitant step to the left.

Then a weird shuffle to the right.

He swayed his hips—too much—so he abruptly stopped and tried to do sothing with his arms, which only resulted in strange, jerky movents that made him look like he was either casting a spell or warding off a demon.

Soone in the crowd coughed.

Another let out a stifled snort.

Riven’s ears burned.

This was humiliating.

But what was worse? The crowd wasn’t booing. No, they were laughing. He could hear whispers and chuckles, amused murmurs about how the "pretty oga" didn’t know what he was doing. So were calling it endearing while others were simply enjoying his suffering.

So, in an act of sheer spite, Riven forced himself to keep going, raising his arms in a dramatic flourish and spinning too fast—which resulted in him tripping over his own feet.

He barely caught himself before he ate the floor.

The crowd howled.

At this point, Riven was praying for the ground to swallow him whole.

But just as he was contemplating jumping off the stage and running for his life, a voice rang out:

"Alright, enough of that."

Well, this worked in his favour, did it not? The owner deed him absolutely useless and got him off the stage.

Riven imdiately turned toward him, relief crashing over him like a wave. Thank the BL gods! Finally, this embarrassnt was over—

—until he realized what the owner just said.

"Soone’s willing to buy you."

WHAT?

Riven’s ears shot up, and his tail bristled. "Excuse ?"

The owner smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the stage. "You heard . Soone made an offer for you."

Offer?! Like he was so kind of object?!

Riven felt his stomach drop. "No, no, no, you’ve got it wrong. I was paying off a al, not selling myself to so creepy rich bastard!"

The owner gave him an amused look. "That’s not how the buyer sees it."

Riven took a step back. "I refuse."

"Don’t really have a choice, sweetheart."

Before Riven could lash out, hands suddenly grabbed him from behind, firm and unyielding. He yelped, struggling as strong arms pinned his wrists together.

"What the hell—?!"

A piece of cloth brushed against his face. A blindfold.

Oh, hell no.

Riven thrashed, but whoever was holding him was too strong. "You can’t do this, you bastards!" he snarled.

The owner simply chuckled. "Don’t take it personally. It’s just business."

The last thing Riven saw before the blindfold was fully secured was the grinning faces of the waitresses who had dressed him up.

Traitors!

Then everything went dark.

Showing kindness to fellow werewolves?! WHAT A BIG LIE!

His wrists were tied tight, the rough rope biting into his skin. The binds weren’t unbearable, but they were secure enough that escape wasn’t an option.

"Let go, you bastards!" Riven kicked out, hoping to land a hit, but whoever was escorting him was fast.

A chuckle. "Feisty. Well, he likes it that way."

"Oh, you have no idea," Riven growled.

He was lifted into what felt like a cart, his body jostling as he was shoved inside. The scent of wood and hay filled his nose.

The carriage moved.

Riven was not having a good day. One thing after the other just kept happening to him! He was barely able to keep up.

All he wanted was a al—just one al!—and now he was blindfolded, tied up, and being carted off like a damn commodity.

How did things escalate so fast?!

His ears twitched beneath the blindfold as he listened intently, trying to gauge his surroundings. The cart wheels creaked, rolling steadily over what felt like cobblestone at first before transitioning into softer terrain—dirt, maybe? They were moving away from the main streets.

Riven stilled, trying to control his breathing. Panic wouldn’t help. He needed to be smart. Well, if they targeted him just because he was an oga... That ant that he was either bought by a female alpha, or so man... He could only hope they were hot.

He shook his head, trying to think, where were they taking him? Who was this mysterious "buyer"? So many questions...

And more importantly...

How the hell was he going to escape?

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