Chapter 1 The Auction
The scent of iron filled the air — sharp and bitter, like blood and fear. Elizabeth stood barefoot on the cold marble floor, her wrists sore from the tight silver cuffs. Her long, tangled hair fell over her face, hiding the quiet panic in her gold-and-blue eyes.
She didn’t know how she got here. One moment she was walking home through the woods behind her cottage — the only place she felt free — and the next, everything went black. Now, she was in a cage. Lined with bars etched in strange markings that pulsed faintly in the dark. Her powers, the ones she never understood, were quiet. Suppressed. She couldn’t feel the forest. The wind. Herself.
Voices echoed down the corridor, low and impatient. Men with sharp suits and colder hearts moved through the shadows, discussing prices like they weren’t talking about human lives.
“Lot seventeen — female, age nineteen. Rare bloodline. Unknown lineage. She’s... different,” one of them whispered, peering into her cage like she was some strange animal.
Elizabeth backed into the corner, clutching the blanket around her thin frame. She didn’t cry. She refused to give them that satisfaction.
They didn’t know it yet, but she wasn’t just another girl.
She was something else.
When the heavy doors creaked open, bright lights flooded the hallway. One by one, the captives were dragged into the auction chamber — girls and boys, trembling, confused, broken. Elizabeth's turn came fast. A guard grabbed her by the arm, yanking her forward. She stumbled barefoot across the polished floor, the room filled with cold stares and thick cigar smoke.
Then she saw him.
At the far end of the room, dressed in black with eyes like a winter storm, sat a man too quiet to be ignored. He wasn’t bidding. He wasn’t even pretending to be interested.
He was watching her.
Her heart stuttered in her chest. Something inside her — something she thought was locked away — responded to him. Not in fear. In recognition.
He rose from his chair without a word, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd like a blade. Every step he took felt deliberate. Dangerous. Silent.
The auctioneer began announcing the bid. “Lot seventeen! A rare one. No documentation, no known power rating — but look at her. She’s special. Opening bid at ten thousand.”
Elizabeth didn’t look at anyone. Just him.
The man didn’t flinch. He simply lifted his hand. “One million.”
The room went silent. Whispers buzzed like bees in the background.
“Sold!” the auctioneer stammered, caught off guard by the speed and size of the offer.
She barely had time to breathe before two guards grabbed her again and dragged her forward. But the man stepped in.
“That won’t be necessary.”
His voice was low and smooth, but laced with authority — the kind that wasn’t questioned. Even the guards backed off.
Up close, he was taller than she thought. Broad-chested, but lean. Shirt opened just enough to reveal scars that didn’t look human. And his scent — cedarwood, smoke, something wild — hit her like lightning.
“You have no idea what you are,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “But you’re mine now.”
He turned, nodding once. “Bring her to the Obsidian Howl Pack.”
That was the last thing she heard before her world went black again.
