I stared toward the entrance, my eyes locking onto the source of the voice.
He couldn't have been older than his early twenties. Tall. Well-dressed. The kind of handsome that came from money and never being told no. He stood there like he owned the room, chin lifted, eyes roaming over the stage with open possession—as if the girl had already been handed to him the moment he spoke.
Ten million.
The number still rang in my ears.
I pushed my palms against the armrest, ready to stand, but Rebecca's hand came down firmly on my shoulder.
"Don't," she said under her breath.
I looked at her. Up close, I could see the tension she was trying to hide—the tightness around her eyes, the way her fingers pressed just a little too hard into my coat.
"Don't do anything, Mr. Cerberus," she continued. "I'll bid higher. I'll win."
I shook my head. "No need. That's already too much—for her, for anyone."
Her brows knit together. "Then do you have a plan?"
"I do," I said quietly. "Midas warned me not to cause trouble inside their venue. He didn't say anything about what happens once their merchandise leaves."
Rebecca inhaled sharply. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why?"
She hesitated, then leaned closer. "That's Marcus Helberg. The only son of General Helberg."
The name landed heavier than the money.
"You don't plan to make an enemy of the military over one girl, do you?" she asked.
I kept my eyes on Marcus. "Don't worry. I have a plan."
Cerberus laughed inside my head, low and sharp. 'A plan? You mean ambushing them in some quiet stretch before they reach the city center. Truly inspired, kid.'
"Shut up," I muttered under my breath.
The host cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. "Ten million," he announced. "Any further bids?"
No one spoke.
"Ten million, going once… going twice—sold."
Applause followed, thin and polite.
Marcus strode toward the stage, his confidence swelling with every step. One of the presenters unlocked the glass case. Marcus didn't wait for assistance—he swung the door open himself and reached inside.
The girl flinched violently.
"Please," she said, her voice small, cracking as she shrank back into the corner of the case. "I'll behave. I swear I will. Just—don't touch me."
Marcus frowned, irritation flashing across his face.
"I paid for you," he snapped. "You don't get to make requests."
"I didn't want this," she whispered, tears spilling freely now. "I just wanted to go home. Please… please don't take me."
The word home hit harder than any scream.
When Marcus reached for her wrist, she shrank back, arms raised to protect her face. "Please," she sobbed. "I won't run. I won't scream. Just don't hurt me."
His patience shattered.
"Shut up."
The slap cracked through the hall, sharp and loud. Her head snapped to the side, a choked cry escaping her lips. She collapsed to the floor of the stage, hands trembling.
Then he kicked her.
Once—hard, into her ribs.
She gasped, folding in on herself.
Again.
A second kick drove the air from her lungs, a broken sob spilling out as she curled tighter, trying to disappear.
My vision went red.
I half-stood, claws threatening to break through my skin.
Rebecca grabbed my hand with both of hers, nails digging in. "No," she pleaded under her breath. "Not here."
Marcus seized the girl by the hair and dragged her across the stage. Her fingers scraped weakly against the floor.
"Someone—please," she cried, voice hoarse and desperate as she looked out at the crowd. "Help me…"
No one moved.
Not the host. Not the guards. Not the men who had been bidding moments ago.
They watched.
Marcus disappeared through a side door, the girl's sobs fading with him.
I knew—without needing Cerberus to say it—that what she'd suffered on that stage was only the beginning. Whatever waited beyond that door would be far worse.
The host coughed awkwardly into the microphone. "Our apologies for that… unsightly interruption. Let us proceed to the next item."
Like nothing had happened.
I couldn't stay another second.
I turned and walked, my pace fast, controlled only by sheer force of will. Rebecca hurried after me, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. We passed masked guests already refocusing their attention on the next display, their interest shifting with terrifying ease.
Outside the villa, the night air hit my face like a slap.
Rebecca glanced toward one of the guards posted near the inner drive. Her voice was calm, but I caught the tension beneath it.
"Has Mr. Helberg already left?"
The guard straightened. "Yes, Ms. Farguan. Mr. Helberg seemed to be in a hurry. His convoy exited the compound minute ago."
So he was already gone.
My ambush plan dissolved on the spot. This wasn't going to be an interception anymore—it was going to be a chase.
Rebecca walked with me toward the gate, her heels clicking softly against the stone path. The music from inside the villa faded with every step, replaced by the hum of insects and the distant city lights beyond the walls.
"I'm sorry," she said at last, her voice lower now. "I really am. I couldn't help you."
"You did," I replied without hesitation. "You helped me. That matters."
She stopped just short of the gate and turned to face me. Her eyes searched my face, as if weighing how much of the monster and how much of the man stood in front of her.
"Whatever you do," she said firmly, each word deliberate, "do not kill Marcus Helberg. No matter what he does. His father won't just retaliate—he'll turn this city upside down."
Cerberus stirred inside me, amused. 'Good luck with that promise.'
"I'll try to restrain myself," I said. It was the most honest answer I could give.
She didn't look convinced. A faint, troubled smile crossed her lips. "I'll see him again. Soon."
I met her gaze, steady. "We'll see."
I stepped beyond the gate.
And froze.
Standing just opposite side of the road, cane resting lightly against the pavement, was the blind man I'd met earlier. His head tilted slightly in my direction, as if he'd been waiting—not watching, but listening.
Even now, I couldn't sense him.
No scent. No trace.
I stepped toward the blind man—and stopped.
Something shifted at the edge of my senses. Not a threat. Not an attack. More like the air itself tightening, as if the night had decided to listen.
Two figures peeled themselves out of the darkness beneath the trees across the road. They hadn't been hiding so much as waiting, shadows leaning casually against trunks that looked too thin to hold them.
One of them spoke first, voice smooth, amused.
"Looks like you lost the bid, Cerby."
Morpheus. I didn't need to see her face. The tone alone gave her away.
I exhaled slowly. "Yeah," I said. "That's why I'm already outside."
The second figure shifted, amber eyes glinting faintly from the dark.
"Planning an ambush? Unfortunately, they're long gone." Midas asked.
I didn't bother denying it. I nodded once, then tilted my head toward the blind man standing a few meters away, unmoving, cane resting lightly against the pavement.
"Do you know him?" I asked.
Morpheus followed my gaze. For a moment, her playful tone faded into something more measured.
"No," he said. "But he was also after the girl."
My jaw tightened.
"He tried to force his way inside," Morpheus continued casually. "Caused a bit of a disturbance. I restrained him. Gave him a pleasant dream."
My eyes flicked back to the blind man. So that was it. That unnatural stillness.
"I could've killed him," Morpheus added, almost bored. "But I didn't see the pleasure in it."
"Or the profit," Midas said calmly, stepping half a pace forward. "And since the girl has already been taken, our business here is concluded."
Anger simmered under my skin, hot and restless. "You let Marcus walk out with her."
Morpheus shrugged. "He paid. The rules were followed."
'Rules,' Cerberus growled inside me. 'Howconvenient.'
Morpheus's head tilted slightly, as if she could hear him. A faint smile curved her lips.
"I do hope you enjoyed our hospitality," she said. "Despite the outcome."
I said nothing.
"I'd like to see you again, Cerby," Morpheus went on, voice light. "Sooner rather than later."
"Next time," Midas added, "perhaps under more… productive circumstances."
Then they stepped back.
The shadows swallowed them whole—and the world shifted.
The towering walls of the villa blurred, stretched, and folded inward like a collapsing illusion. The manicured road vanished beneath my feet. When my vision settled, I was standing on a quiet, empty stretch of asphalt bordered by nothing but trees and darkness. No guards. No gates. No luxury cars.
Just a road leading nowhere.
A soft sound broke the silence.
The blind man stirred.
He swayed slightly, fingers tightening around his cane as he sucked in a sharp breath, like someone waking from a dream too vivid to shake.
"…What?" he murmured. "Where—"
He steadied himself, brow furrowing. Then his head turned in my direction. Not seeing me, but knowing I was there.
"You," he said quietly. Not accusation. Recognition.
I didn't answer.
Somewhere in the distance, I heard car engines approaching.
Cerberus's voice rumbled low inside me.
'The clock's ticking, kid. Be ready.'
The chase turned to an ambush.