🌙𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐡
My eyes snapped open, panic surging through like ice in my veins. I didn’t need to look around to know sothing was very wrong.
I tried to move only to realize I couldn’t.
I was locked in a sitting position, completely restrained. The mont I struggled, sothing cold and tallic bit deeper into my arms, making wince. My legs were trapped. My neck was immobile. Even my forehead was pinned down by so unseen force, keeping my head frozen in place.
I couldn’t shift. Couldn’t scream. Could barely breathe.
My eyes darted frantically through the darkness, but it was useless. There was nothing but pitch black. My fingers twitched against the restraints, weak and trembling as fear sank deeper into my bones.
I raise my eyes, when I caught visible hues in my periphery. I narrowed my eyes to at least catch sothing, anything that would give an idea of the hell that I now found myself.
My eyes slowly adjusted, vision sharpening to take in thr shapes in the darkness.
Then...
My heart leapt into my throat.
I was not alone... not even close.
There were rows and rows of people seating in front of . All unmoving, faceless. But I would be a fool not to know they could see and were staring right at .
My skin prickled with horror so acute, bile rose in my throat. I opened my mouth to let out a sound but of course, I was gagged.
The silence was far more eerie now knowing that there were so many people here with , none uttering a sound. Simply staring right at .
A sudden burst of blinding light flooded the room, and my heart nearly launched out of my chest.
I flinched instinctively, the searing brightness burning into my eyes after so long in the dark. But the restraints held fast, forcing to absorb every agonizing second of exposure.
Now I could see them. All of them.
Rows upon rows of people seated in a towering amphitheater — faces obscured by masks of gold, ivory, and obsidian. All were clad in red hoods. Others tilted their heads as if intrigued. None of them moved. They just stared. Watching. Waiting.
A voice crackled over the speakers, smooth and theatrical, the kind that slithered across your skin like sothing oily and cold.
"Ladies and gentlen," the voice bood, cheerful and cruel all at once, "welco... to the Midnight Lycan Auction."
My stomach turned. I tried to scream again, thrashing harder, but the gag silenced . The iron restraints dug deeper into my wrists and ankles, until I felt warm blood pooling beneath the cuffs.
"Tonight, we are honored to present a specin of rare... pedigree."
Footsteps echoed. They circled behind .
Then a man stepped into view. Well-dressed. Smiling. His face hidden behind a silver half-mask shaped like a wolf’s snarl. His clothes were pristine and luxurious, pearls beads that glead on every surface of his tuxedo.
Tuxedo...
My stomach twisted painfully.
He stopped beside and placed a gloved hand gently on my arm. I recoiled, or tried to, but I couldn’t move.
"This one," he said, loud enough for the crowd, "was a challenge to acquire. But you know how we pride ourselves on exclusivity."
He reached down. With a press of a button, one of my arms was released with a soft click. Before I could react, he yanked it upward, displaying my forearm like a trophy.
I thrashed, but he held it firm.
"Ah. There it is..." he said, admiring my skin as though he were unveiling a masterpiece.
He turned my arm slowly under the spotlight, revealing the faint, unmistakable glow of my tattoo.
Why the hell was it glowing now!
A collective gasp rippled through the room, like a wave of hunger barely contained.
"Yes, yes. I see you recognize it. It’s been a while since one of these crossed the veil into Umbra, our world," he purred, voice vibrating with greed. "A genuine Marked one, bearing the Lunar Crest."
The crowd leaned forward, so clutching data pads, others whispering behind fans and veils.
"Let’s start the bidding," he said, releasing my arm and patting my head mockingly. "Opening price: ten million dollars."
My blood ran cold.
The room erupted into a frenzy of raised paddles, glowing numbers, flashing signals. The amphitheater flickered with gold-lit bidding screens and silent gestures — predators in couture, cloaked in opulence, bidding on like I was at.
"Ten point five million," a deep voice announced from sowhere to my left. "Eleven," another purred. Feminine. Laced with sadism. "Twelve million. And I want her conditioned."
Conditioned?
My body trembled. My breathing turned shallow as the bidding climbed higher. I yanked against the restraints, frantic now, my freed hand trying to tear at the gag, at anything...
But before I could even reach it, the masked man was behind again, clicking the restraint back into place. I was locked down once more.
"Don’t ruin the rchandise," he murmured, soft enough that only I could hear.
"One hundred million dollars."
The voice cut through the cacophony like a blade.
Deep. Rugged. Dangerous.
The room froze. Every masked head turned toward the source, a man seated in the lower VIP section, posture casual, like he hadn’t just dropped an obscene amount of money without blinking.
If the mont weren’t so vile, I might’ve laughed.
Never thought I was worth that much.
The auctioneer chuckled excitedly. "It appears we may have our winner, ladies and gentlen..."
But then...
"Two hundred million."
My breath caught.
The voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. It carried, clear and calm, so self assured.
My heart slamd against my ribs.
The masked crowd stirred again, murmurs rising like a brewing storm.
"Two hundred and fifty million," the first bidder snapped, suddenly tense. His voice wasn’t so relaxed anymore. A edge had crept into it..
"Three hundred and fifty," the order replied calm, untouched by the tension that saturated the air enough to choke.
"Half a billion," the first voice barked, his mask slipping for just a second. Arrogance laced with desperation.
A hush fell.
Even the auctioneer hesitated this ti.
"Well... well," he said, eyes gleaming behind his mask. "We have ourselves a war, don’t we?"
The tension hung thick.
Then ca the whisper that shattered it all...
"One billion dollars," Vladimir said simply.
The room went dead silent.
Not a breath. Not a whisper. Not a single flutter of a paddle.
The auctioneer gaped. For the first ti, he faltered. He stared up toward the high balcony box where the man I found wore the mask of a ivory wolf sat in shadow, one hand resting casually on the armrest.
Then he straightened, cleared his throat, and laughed.
"Sold!"
The gavel hit the podium like a gunshot.
"To the Alpha of Wintercrest. The High Alpha."
My ears rang.
The world tilted.
I had been bought by an... Alpha?
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