In the Auction Prep Hall, deep down in the Below Ground, the long, dark hallway slled strongly of perfu and fresh paint. One side was lined with cages that looked like fancy hotel rooms gone wrong, with no real walls, just see-through glass, velvet beds, and locked doors.
Aylin was led into one of these rooms by two female handlers dressed like hotel staff, but with creepy masks covering their faces. She didn’t bother to put up a fight; staying alert was her top priority.
They took her clothes off, but this ti they did it slowly, almost like it was so twisted show. One of them put a snug black satin corset on her, and the other clipped a shiny gold tag to her wrist with "Lot 19" written on it.
Then ca the mask, a delicate black lace piece that covered her eyes while making her bright red lips stand out. Her hair was styled in soft, flowing curls that hung over her shoulders.
"Tonight’s preview is just for private collectors," one handler whispered while checking sothing on a tablet. "They’ll want a good show. Crying and begging can really push the price higher."
"She’s quiet," the other one pointed out with a note of approval. "That’s great. A little mystery goes a long way in selling."
After they finished, they left the room, and Aylin stared at her reflection in the mirrored glass. She hardly recognized herself; she looked like one of the many victims she had saved from trafficking on the dark web. Now she was the product.
She plopped down on the velvet bed, taking deep, steady breaths and counting backward in binary to calm her racing mind. Briefly, she thought about her sister, Ayla. Please be alive.
Out of nowhere, sothing outside the glass caught her eye. Across the hallway, in another cell, she spotted a flash of dark curls.
It was her sister, Ayla. She was wearing a stunning gold dress that made it clear just how ssed up this whole situation was. Her arms were tied behind her back, and she had a look of fear and confusion in her eyes.
She’s here. A wave of anger shot through Aylin’s chest, washing away the fear and replacing it with determination.
She had one chance, one mont to take action. She couldn’t break the glass barrier.
But maybe... she could bring down the entire system, keeping them locked up.
And after a mont, she was now here to be seen; they took her, but where?
Aylin stayed still under the dim light of the chandelier, her wrists resting in her lap, like a doll waiting to be put on display. The velvet corset was tight, digging into her ribs every ti she took a deep breath, but she needed that pain. It kept her focused.
Her eyes scanned the corners of the room for anything useful, no visible tech. No plugs. Nothing she could use.
Until her hand brushed the inside of the corset. She stopped.
There was a thread thicker than the others, tightly stitched into the hem. A single horizontal line that felt... different. Not silk. Not cotton.
Fibre wire. Capable of data transmission.
A hidden wire. Her breath caught, this wasn’t supposed to be part of the outfit.
Soone must have planted it. Soone was trying to help her, but who? She saw faces everywhere, but didn’t really notice anyone.
She slowly slipped her fingers under the stitch and tugged. A tiny tallic thread unravelled in her fingers, and at the end was a micro-node, about the size of a grain of rice. It blinked once, a faint blue. Live.
She twisted her body just enough to hide it from the caras and slid the node behind her ear, right where her neural receiver implant used to connect. The mont it touched her skin,
Connection Established: EchoBridge X1.0, waiting for interface.
She nearly gasped. It was old, cracked tech. But it might actually work.
Welco, Lunel, popped up silently in her vision.
Her fingers twitched as she typed invisibly in her ntal interface.
Start Local Sweep, Access Auction Directory, Trace Surveillance Channels... Locate Ayla Monroe: Lot 21.
She found her. Sa floor. Just three doors down. Heavily guarded. Drugged and barely aware. Dressed like a puppet.
Aylin’s jaw tightened. She started quietly sending commands, overriding keycard systems and looping hallway caras in 40-second intervals.
Just then, the door clicked open.
She closed the interface with a quick flick of her wrist and slid the micro-node back under the seam of her corset like it was second nature.
That’s when two guys ca in, guards from Alpha.
Aylin felt her heart race. One was tall and muscular, looking like he could bench press a car. The other was younger, scanning the room with fast, sharp eyes like a soldier on the lookout. They were decked out in all black, guns tucked away, and had the Alpha symbol proudly displayed.
She readied herself for a fight. "If you even try to touch , I swear, "
"Hold on," the younger guy interrupted, his voice calm and low. "We’re not here to hurt you."
The older guard quietly shut the door behind them, making sure they could talk without being overheard. "We want nothing to do with this auction anymore," he said, sounding serious.
Aylin narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "Is this a setup?"
"No," the older guy insisted. "We’re here to help. Trust , we have our reasons."
Aylin studied them closely, still not fully convinced. "Okay, but I need to know why first," she pushed.
"Look," the older guy explained, taking a deep breath. "We joined Alpha’s crew a while back, thinking we were protecting valuable stuff. We didn’t sign up for trafficking girls or selling kids. This isn’t what we signed up for." He waved his hand towards the glass walls all around her, a symbol of her captivity.
The younger guard edged closer, his expression shifting slightly. "You’re Lunel, right? The legend in the systems? We saw what you did six months ago. How did you wipe yourself from their records?"
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