CHAPTER 2 : The Auction
884 Words
Kiara woke to the sound of chains clinking and voices echoing off stone walls. Her head throbbed, every beat of her pulse a hammer against her skull. For a moment, she thought it was a nightmare—until the cold bite of iron cuffs on her wrists told her it was all too real.
Her eyes fluttered open. Harsh light blinded her, forcing her to squint. She was no longer in her stepfather’s filthy living room. Instead, she sat on a narrow platform, her hands chained above her, her ankles locked to the floor. Around her stretched a vast, dimly lit hall. Velvet curtains framed the stage, and beyond them, rows of men in tailored suits lounged in seats, their eyes gleaming like predators.
An auction.
Her breath hitched.
A man in a crimson jacket stood at a podium, speaking in a voice smooth and practiced. “Gentlemen, our next offering is a rare treasure. Young. Untouched. Beautiful. She’ll make the perfect addition to any collection.”
Kiara’s stomach twisted as the crowd murmured, their gazes crawling over her like hands she couldn’t shake off.
“No!” she screamed, jerking against the chains. The sound of metal rattling filled the air. “I’m not for sale! You can’t do this to me!”
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Some leaned back, amused. Others leaned forward, intrigued, as though her defiance made her more valuable.
“Let me go!” she cried, tears burning her eyes. She thrashed against the restraints until her wrists ached. “I’m not an object! Please!”
The auctioneer smirked, his voice carrying over her desperate cries. “As you can see, gentlemen, she has spirit. That only adds to her worth.”
The bidding began. Numbers rose, voices competing. Her pulse thundered in her ears as her fate was decided in an exchange of money. She shook her head violently, sobbing. “Stop! Please, stop!”
Then, silence fell.
A single voice cut through the air, deep and commanding. “Ten million.”
The room stilled. Heads turned toward the speaker.
In the back row, a man sat in the shadows. He wore a black suit that clung to his tall, broad frame. His presence was magnetic, chilling. Even in the dim light, Kiara could see the sharp lines of his jaw, the cold glint of his eyes. Power radiated off him, dangerous and undeniable.
Whispers erupted.
“It’s him…”
“The Black Serpent…”
“The mafia boss…”
Kiara’s heart sank. Whoever he was, everyone feared him.
The auctioneer’s smile widened. “Sold! To Mr. De Luca.”
“No!” Kiara screamed, panic clawing up her throat. She pulled at the chains with all her strength, her wrists bleeding. “I don’t want to go with him! Let me go! Please!”
The man—De Luca—rose from his seat. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if he already owned the world. The crowd parted for him as he walked toward the stage, his polished shoes echoing against the floor.
Kiara shrank back, her chest heaving. “Don’t touch me! Stay away!”
He stopped in front of her, his cold gaze sweeping over her trembling form. A faint smirk curved his lips. “You’ll learn, little dove. Resistance only makes the cage tighter.”
She spat at him, fury overtaking fear. “I’ll never belong to you!”
The crowd gasped. No one dared defy him. But Kiara wasn’t thinking—she was drowning in terror, in rage, in helplessness.
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then his smirk vanished. His hand shot out, gripping her chin so hard she whimpered. His eyes, dark as night, bore into hers.
“You belong to me the moment I paid for you,” he whispered, his tone deadly calm. “And I don’t tolerate disobedience.”
Kiara struggled, shaking her head, but his hold only tightened. The world seemed to shrink around his voice.
“Take her down,” he ordered.
Two guards unlocked the chains. The moment her feet hit the ground, Kiara tried to bolt, but rough hands seized her, dragging her toward him. She kicked, scratched, screamed until her throat burned.
“Let me go! I’d rather die than be yours!”
De Luca’s eyes darkened. He gave a subtle nod, and one of the guards shoved her to her knees before him.
“You’ll regret testing me,” he said, pulling a slim syringe from his jacket pocket. The liquid inside shimmered under the harsh lights.
Her blood ran cold. She thrashed wildly. “No! No, please, don’t—”
The guard forced her head back, his grip like iron. Kiara’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might break free.
De Luca crouched before her, his voice soft, almost intimate. “You’ll either obey me willingly… or I’ll break you until you do. Either way, little dove, you are mine.”
The sting of the needle pierced her arm. Fire spread through her veins.
“No…” she whispered, her voice fading. The room tilted, faces blurring. She fought to stay awake, to keep resisting, but her body grew heavy, betraying her.
The last thing she saw was De Luca’s cold smile as darkness dragged her under
- Writer
