Page 35 of Betrayed Auctioned Mate

I clench my jaw. I tell myself it’s just bad timing. She’s probably focused on something else, or maybe there’s a technical glitch, or maybe she has simply decided to leave dealing with me to Byron.

But even Byron isn’t speaking on the comms right now.

The auctioneer’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Gentlemen, we will take a brief intermission before we present our most exclusive offerings of the night. Please, enjoy the refreshments, and prepare yourselves for what’s to come.”

The crowd begins to stir. Men shout out, demanding more drinks, and Percy and the other servers dash in and out.

I remain seated, my eyes scanning the room. I spot Rafael as he slips out the side door, likely heading toward the basement again.

“Raf,”I call.“Did something happen? I’ve got radio silence from everyone.”

A brief pause, charged with something I can’t name.“Wait for Byron to call. We’re working out what happened.”

It’s like someone has dropped an ice cube down the back of my shirt. I clench my hands on the armrests of my chair and squeeze hard. My pulse thuds in my head.

Something has happened. And I know for a fact that everyone knows. It’s in Percy’s silence, in Rafael’s quick, purposeful movements away from me. Byron’s quiet distraction.

And Keira’s unending quiet.

Something has happened to Keira.

The second I realize it; the lights begin to dim again. I’m halfway out of my seat when I realize I can’t leave the room without attracting unwanted attention—so I sit back down, but I’m losing my mind, I think. I might just be going crazy.

“I need an explanation. Now,”I shout mentally to whoever’s listening.“Someone tell me what’s going on.”

Byron clears his throat in my ear. “Stay in your seat,” he says. “We don’t know anything’s wrong yet, we’ve just had a call from someone in the pack center and—”

The slick-haired stranger re-emerges onto the stage, waving his hands. The lights wash him out so severely that his features are extremely hard in his face, his eyes like pieces of coal.

“Welcome back, Gentlemen! Our most discerning of customers, this part of the evening is for you. And the last thing any of us wants to do is make you wait, so without further ado, we introduce you to the first bride-to-be of the evening. From downriver, a brand-new addition to our collection—let’s meet our first lovely young lady…”

He gestures behind the curtain, and two other dark-clothed men step onto the stage. They hold between them a squirming woman with a bag over her head. She has long, toned limbs, but she’s clearly been hit over the head or drugged. She keeps staggering, knees refusing to hold her. They have to drag her to the front.

She’s barefoot in a thin tank top and pants with scuffed knees as if she was forced onto them. She has her arms chained behind her back and a bag over her head.

I can see the woman shivering even from here. Something clicks inside me, but I don’t yet know what it is.

The men drag her to the middle of the stage. There is already interest in the crowd. Patrons are leaning in closer, eager to see her face.

The auctioneer steps forward with a slow, deliberate pace, as if he’s savoring the feeling. His hand reaches out to the bag over the woman’s head. He grabs it, and, with a practiced flourish, yanks it off.

A gasp escapes my throat before I can stop it.

This must be a nightmare, I think faintly. I must be dreaming. It can’t be real. Nothing about this can possibly be real.

I pinch myself hard. Pain lances up the inside of my arm.

It’s Keira.

Her face is pale, her eyes wide and disoriented, but it’s her. A bruise blooms along her cheekbone, and a streak of dried blood stains her temple. Her hair is disheveled around her face, her body trembling, her lip shaking—I see the shine of her eyes as she fights tears. But it’s her.

The world stops. The room narrows to just her and me. Everything else—the noise, the lights, the people—fades into the background. All I can see is Keira, standing on that stage, vulnerable and chained like some kind of offering to these monsters.

“Ado,”Rafael says in my mind.“Ado, don’t do anything stupid. I swear to God, don’t blow our cover; we can’t get her out of here alive if you do and you know it—”

I block him out. I feel his presence in my mind, fighting to get through to me, but he can’t. I won’t let him.

I have more important things to think about. Somehow, I have to get her out of this place.

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