“It’s because you caught his eye,” Prax says suddenly.
“But I haven’t done anything,” I protest.
Prax stops and looks at me, his eyes full of concern.
“Ileana, I submitted a request to buy you out. It’s not a common process. Maybe that’s what surprised him. Either way, he wants to see us both.”
My heart races. Could this be the turning point? I trust Prax. He’s not like the others. If anyone could offer me a safer future, it’s him.
I square my shoulders and follow him through the prison’s winding halls. But I can’t let myself hope too much. Prax isn’t rich, and there’s no guarantee he can afford both Noviosk’s and Bully’s shares.
“Bully? Isn’t he your partner?”
“He is,” Prax says. “But things haven’t been great between us. When we found you, I considered walking away. But Bully doesn’t let go of valuable catches. Ileana, I’ll do what I can to help you. I just can’t promise it’ll work.”
Right now, having someone on my side means everything. In this dark place, even a flicker of light feels like hope.
Eventually, the grim prison walls give way to brighter ones—carved and polished from stone. The corridors widen, lit by solar panels.
We stop in front of a heavy wooden door, its surface etched with intricate designs. It’s rare to see real wood these days. This door looks ancient.
The guard knocks, then opens it with a creak. We step into a low-ceilinged room. At the far end, behind a massive desk, sits a figure unlike any I’ve seen.
He’s lupine—a wolf-man with nearly black fur, a long muzzle, and sharp teeth. His eyes are piercing, like they can see straight through me.
He studies me silently, then shifts his gaze to Prax with clear disapproval. Prax looks uneasy.
“So, this is the Human everyone’s been talking about,” the wolf-man says with a sneer.
I stay silent. Prax doesn’t answer either—he just gives a respectful nod.
“Hey, Noviosk,” he says. “I’m Prax, a Sadjim, partner of the Penubian Bully. It’s an honor to meet one of the Coalition’s legends.”
Noviosk starts speaking, his voice calm but unsettling. “I’ve received a rather strange request… A trafficker bringing in a slave for sale, then suddenly backing out—willing to give up his entire fortune.”
I see Prax tense beside me. He hesitates, unsure of how to respond.
Noviosk continues, his tone sharper now. “You see, this isn’t a trivial matter. Either you’ve fallen for the girl—which, I suppose, would be understandable. She’s beautiful, and males can be weak when faced with certain kinds of beauty. Or… you’re feeling guilty. Your conscience is getting in the way. And that’s a problem. I have no use for a trafficker with principles. You understand?”
Something primal stirs in me. Without thinking, I reach for Prax’s hand, gripping it tightly—like we’ve shared something before, like I’m seeking his protection. Our fingers intertwine, and Noviosk’s eyes lock onto our hands. For a moment, his posture softens. Just a little.
Nervous, I reach for Prax’s hand, as if we’re already close, silently asking for his protection. Noviosk notices and seems to relax slightly.
“I’ve developed a kind of attachment to her,” Prax admits. “Bully’s cold—he put her up for sale even though I asked him not to. He didn’t care about my objections.”
“You’re not lying,” Noviosk says. “The Srebat—my kind—can smell lies. And you’re telling the truth.”
That was close. So Noviosk is a Srebat. I’ll have to remember that—he can tell when someone’s lying.
“The thing is, Prax,” he continues, “this woman has already caught the attention of several potential buyers. I doubt you’ll win the auction, even if you give up your share.”
I glance at Prax, anxious. He just shrugs, calm.
“If I can’t keep her, then that’s how it is. It’s an auction. I can’t control the outcome.”
My eyes drift to the wooden desk, trying to escape the piercing blue gaze of the Srebat.
“Admiring my furniture?” he asks.
