Alina's legs trembled as the guards pushed her down the narrow hallway. Her wrists burned from the rope, her wet clothes stuck to her skin, and her breath kept catching in short, shaky bursts. Every step felt like she was being dragged deeper into a nightmare she couldn't wake from.
"Walk faster," one guard grumbled, tightening his hold on her arm.
"I—I'm trying," Alina whispered, her voice hoarse from crying and screaming earlier.
"Try harder," he snapped.
The sound of the auction hall behind her—the shuffling, the murmurs, the gavel crack that had sold her—echoed inside her head like a cruel reminder: she was bought.
They reached a door. One guard opened it, and light spilled into the narrow hallway.
"She goes in. He'll be here," the guard said.
"He?" Alina echoed, her voice trembling. "Who—who bought me?"
The guard gave her a flat stare. "You'll find out."
Her stomach twisted.
The door shut behind her with a heavy thud that rattled her bones.
The room was bare—no windows, just a chair against the wall and a small table with a glass of water. Her hands shook as she reached for it.
She took a sip, but the coolness only made the knot in her throat ache more. She was too tired to cry, too scared to breathe normally, too numb to think clearly. Everything felt unreal… until she heard it.
Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Controlled.
Alina stiffened.
Her breath hitched.
Her heart hammered against her ribs so loudly she swore he could hear it.
The footsteps stopped.
The door opened.
And a man entered as if the whole room belonged to him.
He didn't rush. He didn't speak at first. He simply walked in with an unsettling quietness, his steps measured, his posture straight, his expression unreadable.
His presence filled the room instantly.
He didn't look angry.
He didn't look gentle.
He looked certain.
Like he had already made a decision about her before he even stepped inside.
Alina swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. "Wh-who are you?"
The man's gaze met hers. His gray eyes didn't flinch, didn't soften, didn't look away.
"Damian Voss," he said simply.
The name hit her like cold water. She didn't know much, but she'd heard whispers. Rumors. Quiet warnings about a man who owned half the city and feared none of it.
And this was the man who had bought her.
Alina's breath stuttered. "Why… why am I here?"
"You were sold," he said calmly. "And I was the highest bidder."
The words struck her chest like a blow. "Sold," she repeated, shaking her head. "Like an object. Like something you can just… buy."
He studied her trembling hands, her wet clothes, her swollen eyes. "That's what an auction is, Alina."
Hearing her name in his mouth felt wrong. Too intimate. Too final.
"My dad…" Her lips trembled. "He—he didn't even look back at me."
Damian's expression didn't change. "He couldn't afford to."
"I'm not something to afford!" she burst out, her voice breaking. "I'm a person!"
"And yet, you're here," he said. Not cruelly. Just blunt. "Because he made a choice."
Tears blurred her vision. "He chose money over me…"
"He chose survival," Damian corrected. "His own. Not yours."
The truth stung. She wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing tightly. She felt like she was breaking in slow motion.
Alina took a shaky breath. "Why me? You could have picked anyone—anyone else. Why did you pick me?"
"Because you were available," he replied quietly.
"Available?" she repeated, a hint of anger slipping into her voice. "Like I'm some—some leftover item on a shelf?"
His eyes flickered—just briefly. "Don't reduce yourself. If you were worthless, I wouldn't have bothered."
She stared at him, stunned. "That's not comforting."
"I'm not here to comfort you."
"So what are you here for?" she whispered.
He stepped forward. Not fast, not aggressively—just enough to make the room feel even smaller.
Alina backed up instinctively.
Damian's eyes tracked every movement she made.
"You will stay here for now," he said. "You will wait until I make further decisions."
"Decisions about what?" Her voice cracked. "About me?"
"Yes."
The simplicity of the word frightened her more than anything else.
"You can't control my life," she said, though her voice barely held strength.
"I already do."
Her breath shook. "I won't obey you."
"You will," he said softly. "Because you don't have the luxury of rebellion right now."
She blinked back tears, angry ones. "You don't even know me."
"I know enough."
"You know nothing about me!" she snapped, her fear blending with frustration. "You don't know what I like, what I hate, what I dream of, who I am—"
"I know you're scared," he cut in. "I know you're hurting. I know you were betrayed by the people meant to protect you. And I know you belong to me now."He said with so much certainty.
Her breath hitched sharply. "No," she whispered. "I don't."
Damian didn't raise his voice. He didn't threaten her.
He just spoke with absolute certainty. "You do."
She flinched.
Silence swallowed the room for a moment.
Damian circled her slowly, as if assessing her—her posture, her fear, her defiance.
"You'll learn," he said quietly.
"Learn what?" she whispered.
"What your new reality is."
A tear slid down her cheek. "Please… just let me go."
"That's not an option."
"Why?" she begged. "Why can't you just let me walk out of here?"
He paused.
For the first time, Damian looked at her with something that almost resembled emotion. Not warmth—just a flicker of something unreadable.
"Because I don't lose what I've claimed," he said.
The finality in his voice stole the air from her lungs.
He turned toward the door.
"You will rest here tonight," he said without looking back. "When you're calm… we will speak again."
He opened the door.
Alina's voice broke as she whispered, "What happens now?"
Damian glanced over his shoulder.
"Now," he said, "you survive."
The door shut behind him.
The silence was deafening.
Alina slowly sank to her knees, the rope tugging at her wrists as she trembled. Her tears dripped onto the cold floor, mixing with the remnants of the rain still clinging to her clothes.
She was sold.
Her freedom was gone.
And the man who bought her…
The man named Damian Voss…
Was only getting started.