Page 69 of Auctioned Innocence
“6.2 million,” the auctioneer calls. “Going once, going twice…sold to His Highness!”
More applause, more congratulations. The prince stands to acknowledge the accolades like he’s just won a goddamn charity auction. Behind him, his security detail is already coordinating transport arrangements, discussing the girl like cargo to be shipped.
Viktor claps slowly, deliberately. “Magnificent presentation. One can only imagine the…training…that went into achieving such perfect submission.” His eyes never leave my face. “Tell me,Volkov, do you prefer your acquisitions pre-trained, or do you enjoy the breaking process yourself?”
The question is designed to trap me—too clinical an answer reveals professional knowledge, too emotional reveals personal investment. Either way, Viktor wins.
“Depends on intended use,” I reply carefully. “Some applications require…customization.”
“Ah, a connoisseur.” Viktor’s smile grows wider. “I find the initial resistance adds to the experience. The gradual erosion of will, the moment when hope finally dies in their eyes…quite intoxicating.”
Around us, other buyers nod knowingly. This isn’t unusual conversation for them—they’re discussing the systematic destruction of human beings as if one was talking about the weather.
My phone vibrates against my leg. James’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Teams in position. Ready when you are.”
I adjust my disguise, the prosthetics itching against my skin as sweat beads beneath the adhesive. The room feels too warm, too close, like the walls are contracting around us. “Status on north entrance?” I demand quietly, my lips barely moving behind my champagne glass.
“Clear.” A pause that lasts too long. “Though satellite shows movement near the east wing.”
My blood chills. The east wing is where I told Sofia to run. “That’s not possible,” Marco cuts in through the comm, his voice tight with concern. “We’ve got that sector locked down.”
“Signals are unclear,” James says smoothly, too smoothly. “Interference from?—”
Static cuts through the feed like a knife, leaving only the sound of my own breathing and the auctioneer’s voice reiterating Natalie’s sale to the Saudi prince.
“James?” Marco barks. “Report!”
Nothing but dead air.
Viktor’s smile widens as he watches my face. “Communication difficulties, Volkov? You seem…distracted.”
“Business calls,” I mutter, but my mind is racing.
“Ah yes, business.” Viktor sips his champagne thoughtfully. “The modern world is so dependent on technology, isn’t it? Communications, security systems, electronic transfers…all so vulnerable to the right kind of interference.”
Alarm bells are blaring in my head. Something is wrong. Viktor knows something.He knows.
Ava is brought onto the stage next. The room’s energy shifts again—these animals sense her fire and want to extinguish it.
“Now this one has promise,” Viktor says, leaning forward with interest. “Spirit still intact. The breaking will be…memorable.”
The bidding starts immediately, aggressive and competitive. These buyers know rebellion when they see it, and some prefer the challenge of crushing it. Paddles flash around the room—four million, four-five, five.
“Magnificent bone structure,” someone calls out. “African heritage always breeds strong.”
“Good muscle tone,” agrees another. “Will require more intensive training, but the results…”
They’re discussing Ava like livestock, evaluating her strength as if planning her eventual destruction. The German arms dealer I noticed earlier bids aggressively, his reputation for cruelty preceding him.
“Interesting choice, Herr Kleinfeld,” Viktor comments loudly enough for others to hear. “Your facility in Bavaria has quite the reputation for…modification.”
Kleinfeld smiles coldly. “I enjoy the process.”
Around us, other buyers chuckle knowingly. They’re bonding over shared sadism, building connections throughmutual corruption. The atmosphere grows more charged, more dangerous, as inhibitions drop and true natures emerge.
My phone buzzes again but I don’t dare to look at it. Not yet. I can’t move without seeming suspicious. The net is closing around us.
Viktor notices my stillness, the way my hand hovers near my phone. “Urgent business, Volkov? You seem quite concerned about something.”
