Their Broken Luna

Chapter 2:Hope

Elara's POV

The air inside the auction hall seemed to freeze. Whispering, greedy laughter, even the sound of breathing—everything was was cut off in the same instant. A pressure with no shape or source closed around everyone’s throat. My eyes, along with every pair of eyes in the room, were pulled toward the origin of that voice.

He stood in the shadow of the entrance, tall enough to almost block the entire passageway. He wore nothing but a simple black shirt and matching pants, yet he carried himself like a king in armor. The fabric stretched over muscles drawn tight with power. He didn’t need to roar or flash fangs—his presence alone was authority.

His dark hair was trimmed short and neat, with a few unruly curls falling over the mask that covered the upper half of his face. It was a beautifully crafted half-mask, from his forehead down to the bridge of his nose. The material looked like matte-treated dark metal, or maybe some kind of specially tanned black leather. Under the dim auction lights, it absorbed the light instead of reflecting it. The edges traced the strong line of his brow and the straight slope of his nose. The design was simple, without any elaborate engravings—just two sharp openings for the eyes.

And behind those openings burned a molten, golden light.

Those eyes didn’t lose their intimidation behind the mask—if anything, the mask made them more savage. Wherever his gaze swept, even the most arrogant buyers instinctively looked away. They were the eyes of a predator, the mark of an Alpha, and at this moment, they were assessing everything before him—including me, displayed like an item up for purchase.

Kael. Alpha of the Blackwood Pack.

When that name echoed through the hall, it felt like my blood turned to ice. Stories about him circulated through the werewolf world like a plague—every one of them soaked in blood.

Brutal. His pack had no rogues because he never expelled anyone. Those who tried to leave voluntarily were branded as traitors and simply… disappeared.

Cold. Rumor said he tore his own beta to shreds for making a joke at the wrong time, then sent the severed head back to the beta’s family—boxed like a gift.

Merciless. He conquered pack after pack, collecting prisoners in quantities that dwarfed the Blackwood Pack itself—but almost none survived. They were thrown into the fighting pits, or released into the forest for him to hunt for sport.

Whispers told that his favorite music wasn’t symphonies, but the death cries of prey. His entertainment wasn’t movies or theater, but locking werewolves and lions together and watching them tear each other apart. And the most chilling rumor of all was how he treated his “companions”—or rather, the private pets he bought with money.

SM, b*****e, sadomasochism—these words are like labels firmly attached to his name. The last werewolf girl he bought reportedly didn’t even last a month. When she was returned, she was delirious, her body covered in wounds that would never fade, not just physical but spiritual as well. She only murmured one sentence: "He is a monster who feeds on pain."

And now, this monster was sitting in the audience, those blade-sharp eyes fixed on me.

Will he whip me? Will he insert something into my v****a? I bet his p***s is as thick as his arm; will it tear me apart when he goes in? Will he make me drink his semen that could drown me? Will he f**k me to death, like he did with the other girls, leaving me with nothing but the despair of a living hell?

No.

Not him.

Anyone else in this room—anyone—even the human businessmen with the filthiest stares, or even… even Boris, that bastard—but not him. Not Kael.

Instinctive fear gripped me like an icy hand around my throat, stealing my breath in an instant. My stomach twisted violently. My limbs went cold. I wanted to scream, to wrench free of my restraints and hurl myself off the platform, even if it snapped my neck. Falling into his hands was worse than death—

Wait.

Death was release, wasn’t it? Yes. That was better. Death would end the shame, the pain, the endless terror that was coming.

Biting through my own tongue… it didn’t sound that hard. The agony would be brief—then nothing but eternal darkness.

So be it.

I closed my eyes, gathered the last of my strength, and drove my teeth into the root of my tongue.

A shock of pain shot through my spine like lightning, ripping through every nerve. My body was convulsing, my teeth clattering uncontrollably against the tension.

In the midst of this excruciating, self-destructive pain, a faint warmth from the thin chain clinging to my flesh, hidden from everyone’s sight, suddenly emanated from deep within my v****a.

“Stay alive, Elara.”

Leo’s voice burst into my mind without warning—clear, steady, as if he were standing right beside me. No… inside me.

Stay alive.

Those words hit me like cold water, snuffing out my desperate rush toward death. My strength drained in an instant. I loosened my jaw, and the metallic taste of blood spread through my mouth. A warm droplet slid from the corner of my lip and fell to the cold floor, staining it with a dark red dot.

I can’t die.

I curled my fingers into fists, digging my nails deep into the soft flesh of my palms. The sharp, real sting helped chase away the dizziness, giving me just enough clarity to keep myself from collapsing.

I have to endure.

Below the platform, every gaze was glued to Kael Blackwood. No one noticed my brief, frantic struggle. Even if they had, they wouldn’t have cared. The despair of a piece of merchandise meant nothing in this gilded hell.

“Two hundred thousand, once!”

Stay alive. I have to stay alive.

“Two hundred thousand, twice!”

For Leo.

“Two hundred thousand, three times! Sold! Congratulations to Alpha Blackwood!”

The gavel fell. The sound cracked through the hall like a gunshot. The deal was made.

Two massive werewolf guards stepped onto the platform, unlocking my shackles and the control collar. They hands grabbed me, claws of brute force that dragged me down and then hauled me toward the shadowed figure of the man who now owned me.

One guard yanked my hair hard, forcing my head up until my gaze collided with Kael’s. The golden fire in his eyes was so close I felt like my soul was blistering under it. His face held no expression—no lust, no cruelty, not even interest. Only a deep, fathomless calm.

He reached out and paused for a moment at the blood at the corner of my mouth, then ran his hand across my trembling, erect n****e. His touch felt like an electric current—dangerous, strange, and chilling.

“Take her back,” he said quietly to his men, but every word seemed to strike bone. “Carefully.”

Then his eyes returned to my terrified face, and he said something that froze every werewolf in the room—including me.

“She is my mate.”

The world stopped moving. The rumors, the fear, every assumption I had shattered into dust. I knelt on the floor, staring up at him, my mind empty except for raw, incomprehensible shock—and a flicker… a flicker of something that shouldn’t exist at a moment like this. Something small, pathetic.

Hope.