Bought by the Mafia Prince: His Hidden Queen

Chapter Three

A throbbing pulse in the head hit Amelia as she began to wake. She was lying on her side. The surface beneath her cheek was cold and rough, and it smelt faintly of damp mildew. When she tried to lift her eyelids, a spike of white-hot agony shot straight through her temples, forcing her to snap them shut. A groan caught in her throat, dissolving into a dry cough.

“Hey, she’s awake. Get the boss.”

The sound was muffled through her ears. Amelia forced her eyes open again, squinting through a blurred, watery haze. She blinked once. Twice. The shifting blobs of shadow above began to steady. She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to get rid of the blurry images. She opened them again, and her vision became clear.

She tried to sit up, steadying her body into a sitting position. Then she looked up. Panic hit her like an electric shock. Her breath caught in her throat, a sharp, ragged gasp that tasted like copper and dust. Her heart kicked into a chaotic sprint, slamming against her ribs until her chest physically ached.

Four heavy, jagged silhouettes stood over her. The dim white light of the single bulb overhead caught their cold, unblinking stares fixed right at her. They weren’t looking at her like a human being. They were looking at her like a piece of meat they had just purchased.

“Well, would you look at that?” a thick, gravelly voice chuckled from the shadows. A figure holding a cigarette emerged from behind the thugs. He was slim but well-built. Even with the panic enveloping her system, Amelia could tell he was the boss around here.

“You’re finally awake. Amelia.”

She shrank backwards, her spine hitting the wall, as if reminding her that there was no escape.

“Now, now, no need to be frightened. Your family gave a generous amount and you as interest. So, we ought to give you the best treatment.”

Amelia froze. Her mind and body grew numb. “Amount? What generous amount?”

The figure smirked. “Your family owed forty million. They paid it off, and you were the extra payment.”

Her eyes grew wide. “That’s—that’s impossible.”

Forty million! Why on earth would Cindy want that kind of money? I only saved fifty thousand.

“Wait, there has to be some mistake. My family doesn’t have that kind of money.”

He laughed comically and bent down to her level. He inhaled his cigarette and puffed out the smoke in her face, making her cough violently. He chuckled slightly. “Easy there, princess. Now it seems to me you don’t know your family’s financial situation. Your family offered forty million and an extra twenty if we got rid of you. And who am I not to accept such a lofty request?”

The sentence hit Amelia like a physical blow to the chest, knocking the remaining air out of her lungs. My family. My own f*****g family.

A strange, breathless sound bubbled up from her throat. It wasn’t a sob. It was a tiny broken laugh. Hot tears streamed down her face as she choked out, “And they say blood is thicker than water.”

Her smile twisted into a jagged, agonizing grimace. “Then why did they have me in the first place?”

The man watched as Amelia broke down. She wasn’t the first person to be sold to him. But something about her breakdown unsettled him. He ticked and got up, throwing away his cigarette, stepping on it to put out the flame.

“Get me Cece.” “Yes, boss.”

Amelia looked up at him. She studied his features, looked at the other thugs, and did the same. “What are you doing?”

Her eyes snapped back to the unfamiliar man. “What should I call you?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Phil. Call me Phil.”

I doubt that’s his real name. But it’s better than having nothing to call him by.

Just then, a woman looking to be in her early thirties rushed in. “Yes, boss?”

He turned towards her and whispered, “Get her ready. I want no mistakes.” “Yes, boss.”

He turned his attention to the thugs. “Guard the cell. Make sure nothing out of the ordinary happens.” “Yes, Sir.”

They left, locking the door behind them, leaving only Cece and Amelia together in silence. She looked at Amelia, feeling a sense of compassion for the girl. But a job’s a job, and she couldn’t afford any mistakes.

“Right. Let’s get you ready, shall we?”

She helped Amelia to her feet. “Ready for what?”

Her voice had lost its natural glow. Still soft, but now void of all emotion.

“Well, for the auction, dear. Men and women from the underworld come here to buy slaves. It could be for entertainment, pleasure, or whatever they want.”

Amelia halted at first. “Then why are you here?”

Cece let out a broken smile. “Well, that’s for another time, dear. And I hope you won’t be here to hear it.”

She let out a deep sigh as she ran her hand through her hair. “What happens when I don’t get auctioned?”

Cece looked at her, then smiled. “Oh, honey, you mustn’t pray for that to happen. If you don’t get auctioned, you’re bad goods. Meaning you get to be used by all the men here. Free of charge. And trust me. You don’t want that.”

Amelia bit her lip so hard that it bled. “Wait a minute. I need to catch my breath.”

She stepped out of Cece’s arms and crouched in front of the bathroom door they were about to enter. She rubbed her hands on her face and thought for a minute. “Okay, let’s just get this over with.”

*Auction House*

It was time for the auction to start. Men and women in cages waiting to be auctioned were lined up to be brought to the stage one by one. Some were crying, some wore confident expressions, and some were begging to be let out. Amelia was in the middle. A void expression on her face, but she was studying everything quietly.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Dons and Donnas! Let the auction begin!”

Everyone applauded, eager to see what new batches the auctions had to bring. One by one, men and women were either bought or discarded. And the guests were either drinking or laughing over champagne and discussing business.

But there was one who neither drank, mingled, nor bought anyone. He sat in the highest chair the auction house had to offer. Just he and his personal bodyguard. He wore a mask, the same as everyone else. And his eyes were fixed on each slave that had passed by.

“Should we leave, Sir?” “Hmm, not yet. If by one more something hasn’t caught my eye, we’ll leave.” “Yes, Sir.”

“And now, we move to the centerpiece of tonight’s collection! Number 16!”

Amelia flinched at the number. Number 16. I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to nothing more than a mere number.

“This, dear guests, is a rare find,” the auctioneer bellowed, pacing around the cage. “Behold the pristine condition. Notice the youth, the unbroken spirit, her striking eyes. Perfect for a servant or anything you desire. A true blank slate, ready to be molded by whoever holds the deepest pockets tonight! And, better yet. A virgin!”

The crowd grew wild. They shifted forward, paddles already rising in the dim light.

No wonder Cece checked to see if I was a virgin. It was for this.

“We open the bidding for this exotic prize at twenty thousand credits,” the speaker grinned, his voice booming over the speakers. “Do I hear twenty? Twenty-five? Thirty? Don’t let number 16 slip past your fingers!”

High in the VIP section, the mysterious man watched as people struggled to buy her. He was completely detached from the theatrical shouting of the auctioneer, and he had zero interest in human livestock being paraded on stage for others’ benefit.

“Sir, what about her?”

He shifted his eyes towards her form. “She’s beautiful, yes, but the same as everyone else. I doubt she’s worth my time.”

He was about to leave until something strange caught his eye. He looked at her eyes. She wasn’t looking at the crowd. She was staring at the master control panel across the room where the security guards stood. Her eyes weren’t blinking. Her irises were darting in tiny, precise, rhythmic squares.

She’s tracing the layout.

A cold spark of curiosity cut through his boredom. He leaned forward, watching her intently.

Inside the cage, her right hand was pressed flat against the iron floor. Her fingers were twitching in a bizarre, frantic rhythm. She wasn’t scratching her nails; her fingertips were tapping out patterns. She was capturing the clicks of the security doors and the specific numerical sequence the head guard was currently punching into the wall pad to lock the stage gates.

To anyone else, it would have been a blur of numbers. But her focus was terrifying. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but her breath was slow and steady as she absorbed every bit of information she saw. She was literally recreating the entire security lock inside her mind.

A slow, dark smile crept onto his face. The sheer brilliance of it was intoxicating. She wasn’t just a slave. She was a living, breathing weapon hiding in plain sight.

“Raise my paddle. I'm buying number 16.”