Page 37 of Auctioned Innocence
Zoe laughs suddenly, a high, unnerving sound.
“We’re all just paper dolls,” she says, too loudly. “Dress us up. Tear us apart. It doesn’t matter.”
A guard steps forward, a hand moving to the baton at his belt.
Ava quickly intervenes, putting a steadying hand on Zoe’s arm.
“She’s fine,” she says firmly. “Just nerves.”
I file away this interaction.
Ava is protective.
Zoe is unstable but possibly useful as a distraction.
Kira is observant.
Natalie is completely shut down.
Jessica is barely hanging on.
The guard appears in the doorway. “Time.”
Walking to that ballroom feels like walking to my execution.
Maybe it is.
The marble is cold under my bare feet—no shoes allowed, another way to make us feel vulnerable.
It’s just another reminder that we are merchandise, not people. Music drifts through the doors, something classical and haunting.
Rachmaninoff, I think.
Dad’s favorite.
Dad.
The thought of him sends a wave of emotion through me.
Is he looking for me? Do they all know I’m missing by now?
Of course they do.
Marco would have raised the alarm instantly.
The entire Renaldi network would be mobilized.
They must be looking for me. Dante must be tearing apart the city.
I cling to that knowledge as I approach the double doors.
“Chin up,” the guard growls. “Shoulders back.”
I obey, but not out of submission.
I’m a Renaldi.
If these bastards want to look at me, they’ll see exactly who I am.
