Chapter 4 Claimed
1079 Words
The room erupted into applause.
Actual applause.
I froze beneath the weight of it, staring out at rows of beautifully dressed strangers who clapped as though I were entertainment instead of a human being.
Heat burned up my throat.
Humiliation followed close behind it.
I stepped away from Cassian Blackwood immediately.
“Don’t touch me.”
My voice was low, sharp.
He looked down at me, utterly unmoved.
“You’ll need to speak louder if you’d like sympathy.”
“I’d rather choke.”
Something almost amused flickered in his eyes.
The auctioneer gestured grandly toward the stage.
“Miss Rowan, if you would.”
“No.”
The single word cracked across the room harder than the applause had.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
The auctioneer’s smile tightened.
Cassian leaned slightly closer.
“Walk.”
“I said no.”
“And I heard you.”
His voice dropped low enough for only me to hear.
“Then let me be clearer. If you create a scene now, Liam’s treatment is delayed before sunrise.”
The blood drained from my face.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would do whatever is necessary.”
Rage surged so hard it almost blinded me.
I wanted to slap him.
Instead, I walked.
Because he knew exactly where to cut.
The stage steps felt endless.
Every heel strike echoed.
Every eye followed me.
I stood beneath the spotlight, pulse hammering, hands clenched at my sides.
The auctioneer beamed.
“Lot Seventeen. Twenty years old. Human-raised. Excellent health markers. Unconfirmed bloodline potential.”
My stomach dropped.
What did that mean?
I looked sharply at Cassian.
He stood at the edge of the crowd, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed solely on me.
As if nothing else in the room existed.
“As always,” the auctioneer continued, “successful claim includes fulfilment of requested medical package.”
Liam.
They had turned my brother into a selling point.
My chest tightened so viciously it hurt to breathe.
“I’m leaving,” I said into the microphone.
Gasps scattered through the room.
The auctioneer chuckled.
“Fiery temperament. A favourite trait among bidders.”
I stepped back.
Two guards moved instantly to either side of the stairs.
Panic surged.
“This is kidnapping.”
“No,” the auctioneer said smoothly. “This is consent. You signed.”
My hands went cold.
Of course I had.
Pages of legal traps disguised as help.
The first bid came from the front row.
“Ten million.”
The number slammed into me.
Then another voice.
“Fifteen.”
“Twenty.”
The room barely reacted.
Numbers like that meant nothing here.
They meant everything to me.
A home.
Security.
A future.
Liam alive.
They tossed fortunes around between sips of champagne.
I searched for Cassian again.
Still motionless.
Still watching.
As if he had no need to rush.
A blond man near the centre lifted his glass toward me.
Perfect smile. Dead eyes.
“Thirty million.”
His gaze travelled over me slowly.
Disgust crawled over my skin.
He looked toward Cassian.
“Not bidding tonight, Blackwood?”
The room shifted.
Interested.
Waiting.
The blond man smiled wider.
“Afraid of competition, Edward never is.”
So this was the rival.
I hated him instantly.
Cassian finally moved.
He took one slow step forward.
Then another.
The room quieted without anyone being asked.
Power did that.
“Fifty million,” he said.
Silence dropped like a blade.
Even I forgot to breathe.
Edward’s smile faltered.
“Bit dramatic.”
Cassian ignored him.
“Sixty,” Edward snapped.
Cassian’s eyes never left mine.
“One hundred.”
The room exploded in whispers.
Someone actually dropped a glass.
I stared at him in disbelief.
One hundred million?
For me?
For whatever they thought I was?
Edward’s jaw tightened.
“You’ve lost perspective.”
Cassian spoke at last, voice calm and lethal.
“For you, Edward, I’ve never needed it.”
The crowd practically vibrated with tension.
Edward looked from Cassian to me, calculation flashing behind his smile.
Then he sat back.
“I’ll let you overpay.”
Coward.
The auctioneer recovered first.
“One hundred million going once…”
My knees felt weak.
“Going twice…”
Cassian did not blink.
“Sold!”
The hammer struck.
The sound cracked through my chest.
Applause erupted again.
I stood frozen.
Sold.
Claimed.
Bought.
No.
My gaze found Cassian’s.
He was already walking toward the stage.
Measured.
Certain.
Predatory.
He climbed the steps and stopped directly in front of me.
Close enough that I could feel his warmth.
Close enough that my body reacted in ways I deeply resented.
He extended one hand.
I stared at it.
“I’d rather jump.”
“That can be arranged later.”
“I hate you.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
His grey eyes darkened slightly.
“You know nothing.”
Then he stepped closer, lowering his voice for me alone.
“But you will.”
My pulse stumbled.
I hated that too.
He took my wrist gently but without room for argument.
Heat flared beneath his fingers.
The strange pull between us hit harder than before, sharp enough to steal breath.
His jaw tightened.
He felt it too.
Interesting.
He turned to the room, voice carrying effortlessly.
“Lot Seventeen is withdrawn from future bidding.”
Laughter scattered.
Ownership acknowledged.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, he led me down the stage steps while cameras flashed and strangers watched like they had witnessed a sporting event.
The moment we reached the corridor beyond the ballroom doors, I yanked free.
“You manipulative bastard.”
He turned calmly.
“You’re welcome.”
My hand flew before I thought better of it.
The slap cracked across the marble hall.
Silence followed.
My chest heaved.
Cassian slowly turned his face back toward me.
A red mark bloomed along his cheek.
His expression remained unreadable.
Then, to my utter shock, the corner of his mouth lifted.
“There she is,” he said quietly.
Before I could react, he caught my chin lightly between his fingers.
“Keep that fire,” he murmured. “You’ll need it where we’re going.”
He released me and started walking.
I stood there trembling with rage.
Then his next words stopped me cold.
“And Ayla?”
I looked up sharply.
Without turning, he said—
“Your brother’s treatment begins tonight.”
- Writer
