The Contract of heart

chapter 3

Since I’d been born wealthy, I knew how superficial my world could be sometimes. Maybe that was my motivation to be part of Dave's team. I wanted to make some kind of difference in the world, and not by donating money that was tax deductible.

Now that I’d had my come-to-Jesus moment, I knew I was never going to go down the same road as I’d been on most of my adult life.

Life was finite, and nobody knew that more than a guy who had cheated death.

I had no idea if there was a woman who could see more than my money when she looked at me. A woman who thought scars and a bum leg were no big deal. But if I did run into her somewhere, I sure as hell wouldn’t let her get away. I’d ask her to marry me on the spot.

If I didn’t meet her, I was better off alone.

Kyran POV

The present….

I felt like my whole crappy life had led to the nightmare I was currently experiencing.

I was naked.

There was a heavy chain around my waist, yanking painfully with every step as my captor dragged me forward.

The man pulling it was a hulking figure, much bigger and heavier than I could ever hope to be, making any thought of resisting futile. My legs trembled, barely able to keep up with his strides as I stumbled over uneven ground. The sharp edges of the chain bit into my skin with each pull, a constant reminder of my helplessness.

The stage loomed closer, harsh lights piercing through the dimness like a spotlight on my doom. My heart raced, knowing that within moments, I'd be standing under those lights-exposed, humiliated.

Naked.

Buyers-men with money and power-would sit comfortably in the shadows, sizing me up, calculating how much I was worth. Not just me. My body. My virginity.

The thought of their eyes crawling over me made my stomach churn with nausea.

I had heard the stories, whispers among those who had been here before me, those who hadn't made it out. The auction block was where dignity went to die. I would be nothing more than a commodity, a number in a bidding war.

And there was no escape.

The pull of the chain jerked me forward again, almost making me lose my footing. The crowd beyond the stage was murmuring, their voices a low hum that grew louder as I approached. My breath quickened, panic clawing at my throat. The air felt too thick, too suffocating, as I was dragged closer to my fate.

I was on display. A prize to be claimed. A possession to be bought.

My fight-or-flight instincts were screaming at me to escape.

Flight would be my only option because I’d never been much of a fighter.

For me, resistance had always meant more pain. After the first few lessons as a child, I’d learned not to fight anymore because it didn’t gain me anything.

At least, it never had until now, but old habits and programmed behaviour weren’t going to go away.

However, my panic was making me think I might have to change in a hurry.

I have to get the hell out of here!

I hated the fact that I’d gotten myself into this position because of my own stupidity, but regret wasn’t going to improve my situation. I was going to have to find a way to escape or suffer the consequences.

How had I ever fallen for my kidnapper’s story?

I’d been homeless and desperate when my abductors had offered me a job.

Hunger had been a good motivator since I’d ended up accepting the offer because I hadn’t eaten in days.

Because of my bad decision, I hadn’t seen the light of day since I’d gotten into their car that day a few weeks ago. I’d been held in a bug-infested hotel room with barred windows and no chance of escape.

The past…..

The door creaked open, and I froze, heart hammering in my chest. My muscles tensed instinctively, as if I could somehow blend into the dingy wallpaper or dissolve into the shadows. I listened for footsteps, but none came, only the door moving with agonizing slowness. For a brief, insane moment, hope flickered. Maybe they had forgotten to lock it.

Maybe this was my chance.But the reality of my situation crushed the thought almost as soon as it surfaced. These people didn’t make mistakes. They hadn’t slipped up once since they’d grabbed me. Every meal—if you could call the tasteless mush they served food—was delivered with precision. Every day was the same suffocating routine.

The door would open, food would be tossed inside, and the door would slam shut again. They never spoke, never looked at me long enough for me to gauge who they were or what they wanted. Just those cold, lifeless eyes beneath dark hoods.But now, the silence on the other side of the door felt different. It stretched longer than usual. I could hear my own shallow breaths, the blood rushing in my ears. Still no footsteps. No voices. Just the door—open.

My mind raced.

Was this a trick?

A trap to test if I was foolish enough to make a break for it? Or had something gone wrong? I edged closer, every step hesitant, feeling the rough carpet fibers beneath my bare feet. I needed to know what was happening, but every instinct screamed at me to stay put. To wait. To survive.My hand trembled as I reached out, fingertips just inches from the doorknob. The slightest push, and I could peek through, maybe glimpse freedom—or my captors. But what then? Would they be waiting to drag me back, lock me up tighter, and punish me for daring to hope?The door creaked again, swaying inward. An invitation. Or a warning.I hesitated, stuck between fear and a primal urge to escape. My pulse pounded harder, my breath catching in my throat. And then, from the other side of the door, I heard it. The unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate.Too late.

The only good thing about my makeshift prison had been the food. I’d been fed, but the meals hadn’t been given out of kindness or to build my strength to work an actual job. My kidnappers had wanted to fatten me up like a farmer wants to put weight on their cattle to make them more attractive to buyers.

My body was shaking as I was led onto the stage. I wasn’t terrified about being naked, which, in itself, would generally be terrifying. But I had more dire things to worry about, like who was going to bid high enough in this crazy virgin auction to own me, and what their plan for me might be after the sale.

Would I end up chained in the dirt in the darkness of a cellar or basement, never to be seen again?

Maybe there was no one who cared about me in this world, but I sure as hell didn’t want that fate.

I flinched as I was pulled into place on the stage and kept there by the man holding the chain.

The humiliation of being leered at by a crowd of men hit me like a powerful slam in the stomach.

I’d lived with humiliation all my life, and for a few seconds, I flashed back to some of those memories, something I never allowed myself to do. But my terror was out of control, and I had no way to defend myself or to make those images escape my brain.

I couldn’t see every pair of eyes watching me. But I felt the creepy sensation of being watched by many sets of eyes, and it made me want to drop into a fetal position to protect myself.

Don’t panic.

Rose said she was going to rescue me.

The problem was, I didn’t really know Rose Dickson well enough to judge whether somebody would come to help me. But her promise was about the only thing I had to keep me going. We’d only met once in person, and talked on the phone a few times.

She’d seemed nice enough, but I’d learned early in life that people let me down, and that the only one who really cared about my survival was me.