CHAPTER TWO
1006 Words
The Price of a Weakling
Four years.
That’s how long I’ve been breathing stale dungeon air—counting time by lashes on my back and the cries of those who didn’t make it.
Most don’t survive past the second year.
I have.
I don’t know how.
The hard labor, the rotten food, the way Harold’s warriors whip us just to remind us we’re not human anymore—none of it ever stops. Pain has become my shadow. But even shadows fade when the lights go out, and mine never do. I am tired. Weary. A heartbeat away from breaking.
Today marks two years since Harold started auctioning off the weak—selling us like livestock to the highest bidders among the Elites. Five of us were chosen today. The unlucky ones.
A guard’s voice tore through the silence like a sword.
“Alpha Harold approaches!”
Everyone dropped to their knees. Heads bowed. Backs bent.
Everyone… except me.
I didn’t move.
A whip cracked across my back, burning through skin and defiance. I flinched. Blood ran. But I didn’t cry out.
“Are they ready?” Harold’s voice slithered through the room, followed by the echo of boots. He stopped in front of me.
“Today’s your lucky day, my love,” he cooed.
I looked up. His disgusting smile made my stomach churn.
Without hesitation, I spat in his face.
Gasps echoed around me, followed by another whip lashing across my back. This time I screamed.
Tears blurred my vision, but I stared him down. “I must have been a fool,” I whispered.
And I had. Loving him had been the biggest mistake of my life.
Harold wiped his face, calm as ever, then gave the order. “Line them up. Follow me.”
The guards dragged us from the dungeon, and we stumbled out like ghosts of the forgotten, our chains rattling like bells of damnation.
The auction hall was opulent, loud, full of laughter and false smiles. A stage for cruelty. We knelt on the podium like trophies.
Taylor stood at the podium. My childhood friend. Harold’s Beta. And once—someone I trusted.
The sight of him made something in me break all over again.
“The redhead—going once, going twice… sold for five hundred thousand dollars!” Taylor slammed the gavel. Just like that, she was gone.
And then I was alone.
The final prize.
I could barely breathe when I saw him.
Alpha Dale.
Seated among the bidders, dressed in black. Watching.
Disappointment clawed at my insides. I’d believed in him. I’d idolized him. But Harold had been right all along—Alpha Dale was no different. He was here to buy a slave. Another weakling for his pack.
Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to cry for him. Not anymore.
Taylor cleared his throat.
“Now, for our final girl—starting at five hundred thousand dollars. As you can see, she’s the prettiest—”
“Six hundred dollars!” someone jeered.
Laughter followed.
“Eight hundred thousand!”
“One million!”
The numbers climbed as I stared at Dale. He didn’t look away.
“Come on,” Taylor called. “We can do better.”
Silence.
Then—
“Twenty million dollars,” Alpha Dale said, voice calm and thunderous.
The room fell into stunned quiet.
My heart collapsed.
I looked at him, tears running freely now. Twenty million. To own me. The price of betrayal.
I wanted to scream. But what would it change?
Taylor slammed the gavel. “Sold.”
I was dragged away. Out of the hall. Bound and silent.
Outside, Taylor appeared and dismissed the guard. Then, to my shock, he pulled me into an embrace. He didn’t care that I was filthy, bloodied, broken.
He just held me.
“This is your only chance,” he whispered, pressing something cold into my hand. “You have five minutes to run. Don’t tell me where you’re going… because you can’t trust me.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away.
I opened my hand.
A key.
My heart thundered in my chest as I crouched and worked the lock on my chains. Once free, I didn’t hesitate. I ran. Into the woods. Into darkness.
“Get her!” Harold’s voice roared behind me.
But I didn’t stop.
Branches tore at my skin. My lungs screamed. Still, I ran—until I hit the edge of a cliff and skidded to a halt.
Below, dark water churned.
I crept forward and looked down.
Not at death.
But at peace.
Why do people choose to end it? Is their pain too much? Are they seeking silence? Freedom?
Would I regret it if I jumped?
Would I finally be free?
Tears burned hot trails down my cheeks.
“But why does it hurt so much?” I whispered. The betrayal. The loneliness. The emptiness.
I turned as the guards approached. Taylor among them.
Six men. All armed. Silent.
Then came Harold—walking between them like a king among monsters.
He stopped in front of me.
“So this is how you want to die?” he asked, amused.
I didn’t answer.
He took a step closer. I took one back.
Behind me—the fall.
“I could throw you back in the dungeon,” he said. “Or let your new master claim you.”
I stared at him, fury boiling over.
“I choose neither,” I spat.
Then—I jumped.
Wind howled around me. Time slowed. The world went silent.
And in that silence, I prayed.
“Moon goddess… please. Make him pay.”
The water closed around me.
And then—
I saw it.
A glowing, translucent werewolf. Beautiful. Blue. Ethereal.
It ran toward me underwater.
Then collided with me.
A surge of energy exploded through my veins. Power. Peace. Fire. Light.
And everything went still.
Is this what peace feels like?
I let go.
And I sank into the darkness.
- Writer
