(Celeste)
The rapping at the door grew louder. Celeste watched as her uncle opened it slowly, revealing a man draped in a long brown robe. A hood shadowed his face, but danger clung to him like smoke.
Her skin prickled. Guests were rare here. Guests like this—impossible.
Timothy and Darla whispered with the stranger in low, urgent tones. Then, with false smiles, they beckoned her forward. "Celeste, come here, girl."
She froze. "What's going on?"
"Come here," Aunt Darla snapped. She grabbed Celeste's wrist, dragging her toward the hooded man. "This is Celeste. We told you she was a beauty."
Celeste's pulse thundered as the man drew out a small scanner. "She's untested, you said? That will affect price." His voice was low and rasping.
"Price?" Celeste repeated, dread coiling.
"Well, I assume she's a Beta," Timothy said quickly. "What would that fetch?"
The breath left Celeste's lungs. "You're selling me?" Her voice cracked between fear and fury.
Her uncle shrugged, guilt flickering beneath greed. "Better this than losing the farm. Think of it as doing your family a favor."
"You can't be serious! I'm your niece—your sister's only child!" Tears blurred her vision.
Darla only rolled her eyes. "Maybe you'll be lucky enough to catch an Alpha mate."
"Or unlucky enough to end up a slave," Celeste spat, bile rising.
"Faith, girl," Darla dismissed, turning back to the buyer. "Scan her."
The scanner hummed, passed over Celeste's forehead. A pause. A sharp intake of breath.
"I'll pay triple the Alpha price," the man announced.
"Why?" Darla demanded.
The hood tilted, voice thick with awe. "Because she's not Beta. She's an Omega. Rare as starlight. Almost extinct."
Timothy's eyes gleamed. "Then we want one hundred and fifty thousand. Up front."
"Done." A disc blinked with numbers, a pouch filling instantly with chips. Darla's lips glistened as Timothy snatched it up.
Celeste's stomach dropped. Her freedom, her very life—reduced to a bag of money.
"I would've paid double," the man laughed, producing glowing cuffs. "Come along, girl."
"No!" Celeste twisted, bolting for the door. She slammed into her uncle's chest, elbowed his face, and tore free. For one heartbeat—hope.
"Draco! We have a runner!"
A mountain of a man filled the doorway, hands like iron clamping around her hair. Pain ripped across her scalp as he yanked her back, twisting her arms until she cried out. Still she kicked, clawed, screamed.
"I'll never forgive you!" she shrieked at Darla and Timothy, her vision swimming. "One day, you'll regret this!"
"Spunky chit," the hooded man chuckled. "Someone will enjoy breaking her in."
They dragged her to the shuttle and threw her inside. Her head cracked against the glass, stars bursting across her vision.
"Please," she whispered. "Let me go."
The slaver tugged back his hood. Dusky skin, bald head, gold hoops, eyes a brilliant unnatural purple. "I am Sisisky, slave trader. You'll be tested for purity, then grouped with the others. Tomorrow, we leave for Vlallas. You'll make quite the prize on the block."
Celeste turned her face to the window, refusing to look back at the only home she had left. Betrayal cut deeper than chains. Maybe she was cursed, destined to lose everyone she cared for. But no matter what they did to her—she swore they would never break her.
Not now. Not ever.