Chapter 3:New Era
1159 Words
ELISABETTA
It was supposed to be my big day—or should I say, a cursed one. All my dad could whisper was, “Comport yourself.”
Knowing how I felt at that point meant nothing to him. I couldn’t find Frankie at my wedding. What is he up to?
However, the atmosphere wasn’t feeling right, but let’s see what fate has in store.
Vinnie The Bull was already standing at the altar. The look on his face clearly showed he wasn’t in for it. But it was just business—no emotion attached.
Walking up to the altar from where I stood felt like a mission impossible—the farthest but shortest walk of my life. I could hear murmurs, whispers, the sound of the priest’s voice as he asked Vinnie to say his vows. Then it got to my turn.
The words were too heavy to spill out, but I had to say them—with tears rolling down my cheek.
Within a twinkle of an eye, the opposition mafia had already started exchanging bullets. At that point, I froze—didn’t know where to run.
I heard a voice. Yes… that was Frankie, calling out for me. Immediately I was about to move, The Bull held my hand.
“Where do you think you’re going, b***h?”
I struggled for him to let go. Then—a thick metal hit the back of my head.
I fell, unconscious. The view was a blur. I never saw my dad again.
I heard a voice from a long distance: “Pick her up and come with her.”
I was barely conscious, but I knew that wasn’t Vinnie’s perfume—or Marano’s.
There was nothing I could do at that point.
The next thing I knew, I was at the back of a black van. I couldn’t see their faces or tell who they were. I didn’t know what happened to Frankie, or my dad… or The Bull—though I cared less about him.
The car stopped at some point. I was carried into a dark room. There were whispers:
“Is she the one?”
“We can’t keep her—she’s The Bull’s wife.”
“I think we should auction her. That’ll be the best way to stay out of this whole mess.”
After a while, the whispering stopped. I could only hear footsteps—and some other voices, not male but female. Young ladies. Some even smaller than I am.
What has Frankie done?
What the f**k has this motherfucker done?
It would’ve been better staying with the demon I knew than these suckers.
If anything happens to me, there’s no one to hold responsible.
Morning came. They brought me out into a huge, goddamn mansion.
I couldn’t believe my eyes—girls walking naked. Stark naked.
I was too stunned by the luxury of the building to react—until a cracked voice shouted from afar,
“Hey, b***h! Get your stupid ass over here with your goddamn tag!”
As I approached another door, I saw different girls sitting on the floor.
I couldn’t say what they planned to do with them—or should I say us, because of course, I’d be joining them.
Not long after, an elderly man came in. He had a walking stick, a bald head, and piercing green eyes. I felt like he was the General.
Staring at me, he asked, “Are these the ones to be auctioned, or have they not been separated yet?”
Another man replied, “They’ve not been separated. They’re to pick the good-looking ones—the ones with nice t**s, no scars—”
Oh, s**t. I remembered I was hit. Luckily, it was at the back of my head, so it wasn’t visible.
“The auction will be in two days,” the General said. “Clean them up and get them ready.”
At that point, I didn’t know if I wanted to be auctioned or left behind. I was lost in thought.
“Hey… hi,” I heard from my left. “My name is Queen. Seems you just came here?”
“Yes, I just did,” I replied.
How was she able to tell? Was I looking that scared?
She said, “Cheer up if you want to stay alive. Killing means nothing to them. We can stick together if you don’t mind. They killed my other partner. I just hope I get out of this mess.”
A young man’s voice interrupted, “Get the f**k up, bitches! If I give you a number, that means you’re unlucky—‘cause you’ll be sold to strangers in two days. Now take your number.”
He counted and got to Queen. He gave her 76.
When he got to me, he paused, touched my breast, dug his hand between my legs, and raised my head.
The look on his face was something I couldn’t read or explain.
“You’re 77. Let it stick in your brain.”
I let out a loud sigh—more of relief, but also fear.
Let’s just hope fate finds us well in the auction.
---
Today is the day to see what fate has in store again.
“Hurry your asses into the van! There’s no time to waste!” the elder shouted as the young man drove.
They drag me toward the blinding lights. The iron door slams behind, swallowing the last echo of freedom. My wrists ache against the metal cuffs, skin burning where their hands press too tight. I can taste fear — metallic, sharp, and humiliating.
The velvet curtain parts. For a moment, silence — then the crowd hums like vultures circling meat. Men in suits, gold rings flashing, eyes glittering with greed. I feel their gazes crawl across my skin, stripping me bare long before the spotlight does.
The auctioneer’s voice cuts through the haze.
“Lot 47 — Elisabetta.”
My name sounds foreign on his tongue, like a curse.
The first bid cracks the silence — “Fifty thousand.”
Another follows. “Eighty.”
The numbers climb, faster, harder. Each shout is a nail hammered into what’s left of me.
I try to breathe, but the air tastes of perfume and money. My knees tremble. I want to scream, to rip the velvet drape and run, but I can’t. Cameras flash. Laughter. My anger burns under my ribs, a flame no one sees.
“Eighty million.”
The room stills. The voice is deep, calm, dangerous — somewhere in the shadows. The auctioneer blinks, then smirks. “Sold—?”
A hand lifts from the darkness, gloved, commanding silence.
The flame inside me flickers, confusion mixing with dread. Whoever he is, I can feel his gaze cutting through the distance — steady, claiming.
And in that moment, I know — my nightmare has just found its master.
- Writer
