The first voice grunted. “They’ll come. They always do. Just gotta keep her in one piece until then.”
The second man chuckled. “Not too bad looking, either. Maybe I should—”
“You want your hands broken. You go ahead and try,” the first interrupted. “Boss said no one touches her until the deal’s done. You know the rules.”
“Yeah, yeah.” There was a shuffling sound, and the second voice grew fainter. “Still. Waste of a good—”
The rest of his sentence faded into the background as Cora’s pulse hammered in her ears. They were selling her. Not as a person or a witch but as some…commodity. Her jaw clenched so tightly that her teeth ached, and she focused on steadying her breathing. Anger she could use, but not if it overwhelmed her.
She tugged at the ropes again, this time with more force. Her skin scraped against the rough fibers, and a hiss escaped her as the pain flared. Blood slicked her wrists, making the knots slippery, but it wasn’t enough to loosen them.
The door rattled, and the faint sound made her heart stop.
“Damn thing always sticks,” the second man muttered. The rattling grew louder as he yanked on the handle.
Cora stilled and pressed the back of her hands against her back to stop their movement. Every muscle locked in place as she forced herself to listen, straining to pick up on the men’s movements.
“Leave it,” the first voice said. “Boss said she stays put. You wanna piss him off, go ahead and break protocol.”
“Whatever,” the second snapped.
The rattling stopped, and footsteps retreated into the distance.
Cora let out a shaky exhale as she sagged against the chair. Her thoughts tumbled over themselves, each more frantic than the last. She’d been taken from the one place she’d felt safe, and now she was nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game.
But she wasn’t powerless. Not entirely.
Cora’s wrists burned, and the rough fibers of the ropes bit deeper with every desperate pull. Her hands were slick with blood now, but she kept twisting, kept yanking. The metallic scent of her own sweat and coppery blood filled her nostrils, blending with the stale air of the dim, featureless room. She couldn’t stop.
“Come on,” she pleaded, her voice cracking from the effort.
Her movements were frantic, and each tug sent fresh pain shooting up her arms. Without her magic, she was stuck—bound, powerless, and entirely at their mercy.
More voices coming from outside the door made her still, and she sucked in a breath.
“She still tied up?” one voice asked.
“She’s not going anywhere,” came the reply. “Those ropes could hold a dragon. Witch or not, she’s stuck.”
Cora’s stomach turned at their casual tone. They spoke as if she were an object, something to be restrained and displayed. She pressed her feet harder against the ground, trying to shift the chair. Every scrape of wood against the floor felt impossibly loud.
“Buyers’ll be here soon,” the gruff voice added. “Better make sure she’s still pretty.”
The second man laughed. “Don’t worry. The magic’ll keep her in line. No scratches, no burns. Boss thought of everything.”
Her heart pounded as the door creaked open.
“Well, well,” said a tall, wiry man, his voice curling with delight. He stepped inside, sporting a grin sharp as a blade. “Looks like someone’s been busy.”
Cora glared at him, using her defiance to mask the fear swirling in her chest. “Untie me.”
The wiry man crouched and made no effort to hide his lust as he looked her over. “Feisty, huh? I like that. Makes it more fun.”
“You won’t like it when I get free,” she snapped, trying to lunch at him.
The man jumped back for a second before chucking and leaning closer. “Oh, sweetheart. You’re not in charge here.”
“Back off,” she growled, twisting her arms against the ropes.
