Sold to the Enemy
882 Words
They didn’t walk her in.
They dragged her.
Nyx kept her head high anyway.
The moment she crossed into Argus’ territory, the air changed—colder, heavier, like the land itself bowed to him. Wolves lined the path as she was escorted through the gates, their eyes tracking her every step.
Whispers followed.
“That’s her.”
“The one he bought.”
“She doesn’t look like much.”
Nyx ignored them.
She refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
Even when the iron grip on her arm tightened. Even when she stumbled on uneven stone.
Even when humiliation burned hotter than fear.
She would not bow.
Not to them.
Not to him.
The estate loomed ahead—massive, dark stone rising like a fortress carved from shadow. No warmth. No welcome. Just power.
And control.
Inside, it was worse.
Silent corridors. Watchful eyes. Every servant moved quickly, carefully, like one wrong step meant punishment.
Nyx was shoved forward again.
“Move.”
Her jaw tightened, but she obeyed.
For now.
They stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. One of the guards pushed it open, and Nyx was forced inside.
The door slammed shut behind her.
Silence.
The room was dim, lit only by a few flickering candles. A basin of water sat in the corner. Clean cloth. Brushes. A dress laid carefully across a chair.
Nyx stared at it.
Understanding hit instantly.
“They want to dress me up,” she muttered bitterly.
Like an object.
Like something to be displayed.
Her nails dug into her palms.
Before she could think further, the door creaked open again.
A boy stepped inside.
Younger than she expected.
Slim. Quiet. His gaze stayed low, avoiding hers completely.
“I was told to prepare you,” he said softly.
Nyx studied him.
He didn’t look like the others.
No cruelty. No arrogance.
Just… nervous.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
A pause.
“Mason.”
His voice barely carried.
Nyx nodded slowly. “Untie me.”
He hesitated—just for a second—before stepping forward.
His fingers brushed her wrists lightly as he loosened the restraints. Careful. Gentle.
Not like the others.
Nyx noticed.
Mason stepped back immediately, like he didn’t want to linger.
“There’s water,” he said, gesturing toward the basin. “You should clean up.”
She didn’t move right away.
“You don’t look at people when you talk to them?” she asked.
Mason stiffened slightly.
“I… it’s not my place.”
Nyx frowned, but said nothing more.
Instead, she moved to the basin.
The water was cool against her skin, washing away dirt, sweat, and blood. She scrubbed harder than necessary, like she could erase everything that had brought her here.
She couldn’t.
When she was done, she glanced at the dress again.
Dark fabric. Smooth. Fitted.
Designed to cling.
“To please him,” she said flatly.
Mason said nothing.
But his silence confirmed it.
Nyx exhaled slowly, then reached for it.
If this was part of the game—
She would play it.
The fabric slid over her skin, soft but unforgiving, shaping to her body in a way that left nothing to imagination. It hugged her waist, fell along her hips, traced every curve she had.
Nyx stilled.
She barely recognized herself.
Not because she wasn’t beautiful—
But because this wasn’t her.
This was something crafted.
Displayed.
Controlled.
Behind her, Mason shifted slightly.
Still not looking.
But not moving away either.
Nyx caught it.
“You can look,” she said.
He froze.
Slowly—hesitantly—his gaze lifted.
And for a brief second—
He forgot to breathe.
Nyx saw it.
Not hunger.
Not desire.
Something softer.
Something… admiring.
And it unsettled her more than anything else.
Mason quickly dropped his gaze again, stepping back like he’d crossed a line.
“I’ll get you water,” he said quickly.
He poured it into a cup and handed it to her, careful not to touch her fingers.
Nyx took it.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, still avoiding her eyes.
Safe.
That was the word that came to her.
He felt safe.
Gentle. Quiet. Harmless.
A strange thing, in a place like this.
But she didn’t trust it.
She couldn’t afford to.
A sharp knock echoed at the door.
Mason stiffened instantly.
“They’re ready,” he said quietly.
Nyx’s grip tightened slightly around the cup.
Of course they were.
The door opened without waiting for permission.
Two guards stepped in.
Their eyes swept over her—and this time, there was no mistaking it.
Approval.
“Bring her,” one of them said.
Mason stepped aside.
Nyx set the cup down slowly.
Then she straightened.
Lifted her chin.
And walked forward on her own.
No dragging.
No stumbling.
If she was going to be presented—
She would walk like she chose it.
The guards led her out of the room, through long, echoing halls that seemed to stretch forever.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Until they stopped in front of massive double doors.
Nyx’s heart slammed once against her ribs.
Then went still.
The doors opened.
And beyond them—
Waited the man who owned her.
- Writer
