Cora flinched as the announcer stepped forward in a sharp suit and slicked-back hair, a jarring contrast to the grimy setting.
“Tonight, we have something truly special for you,” he declared in a voice that was dripping with charisma. “A witch from Bellefleur. Rare. Untouched. Pure power, ready to be claimed.”
The crowd roared so loud that their cheers were deafening.
“Bound and sealed,” the announcer continued, gesturing to the ropes around her wrists. “Her magic locked away, waiting for the right owner to unleash it. The perfect balance of control and potential.”
Cora’s fists curled until her nails bit into her palms.
“And look at her,” the announcer added. “A vision of strength and beauty. But don’t let her looks fool you—this one’s got fire.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd, and her stomach churned.
“Shall we begin?” the announcer called with his arms outstretched.
The crowd erupted again, and their excitement drowned out Cora’s ragged breathing. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she looked out over the sea of faces. This was it.
Chapter 2 - Grayson
Grayson Kane didn’t let a muscle flinch when the cage door slammed shut behind him. The squeaky clang was designed to unsettle, a not-so-subtle reminder that this wasn’t Bellefleur, with its pretense of sanctuary.
This was the underbelly of the shifter world—a place where morality was bought and sold with the same cold efficiency as lives. Grayson had been undercover long enough to know the rules of this game. His role required a level of patience that was at odds with his instincts. Still, he’d spent enough time in places like this to fake belonging, but the itch beneath his skin—the part of him that wanted to rip throats and burn it all down—never dulled.
The room pulsed with noise: low voices swapping deals, the occasional bark of laughter, the shuffle of boots on warped wood. It was a grim theater of the damned, masked by the pretense of a social gathering. Grayson adjusted the collar of his leather jacket as he looked around the room with the disinterest of someone who belonged. He hadn’t bothered to shave, and the few days’ worth of scruff, combined with his scarred knuckles and broad shoulders, sold the illusion. Here, no one trusted anyone who looked too clean.
He made his way toward the raised platform at the center of the room, careful to keep his steps unhurried. Rushing drew attention. The last thing he needed was for someone to recognize him as anything but another sick asshole.
The stage was crude, and it was clear it was assembled quickly and not meant to remain. Its planks were stained with too many histories, but it wasn’t the wood that drew his focus.Grayson’s attention was locked on the girl being dragged to the center like she was some kind of prize.
She was small—petite enough to make the two guards hauling her by the arms look absurd. A tangle of wild blonde hair tipped in faded pink fell over her face, but it couldn’t hide her defiance. Even from this distance, he could see the tension in her frame and the fire in her movements. She didn’t stumble. She didn’t cower. But she sure as hell fought them every step of the way.
Something about her felt…off. Grayson tilted his head, trying to place it, but the familiarity nagging at the edges of his mind refused to solidify. The auction was crawling with witches and shifters—victims of power plays and vendettas—but this one… She pulled at his senses in a way he didn’t like.
His wolf stirred. Not the restless pacing that usually came with places like this but something deeper, more pronounced. Grayson swallowed hard and forced it down, but the wolf didn’t settle. Its unease mirrored his own, and he hated that it rattled him.
She doesn’t matter, he reminded himself.She’s just another victim.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” boomed the announcer. The man stepped into the center of the stage with his hands outstretched like he was inviting applause. “Tonight, we have something truly exceptional. A rare gem straight from the heart of Bellefleur.”
Grayson kept his expression neutral, but his pulse ticked up a notch. Bellefleur was supposed to be a haven, or at least as close as shifters and witches could get to one. The town wasn’t perfect, but this auction—this entire operation—shouldn’t have been allowed to get this close to home.
The announcer reached for the girl’s arm, turning her to face the crowd, and Grayson saw her properly for the first time. Her lavender eyes burned with uncontained fury, glaring out over the sea of faces like she dared every person in the room to cross her. Her cheek was smudged with dirt, and her wrists were raw and bloody where what he assumed were enchanted ropes bit into her skin, but none of that diminished her presence.
Something inside Grayson came alive with a spark of recognition he couldn’t pinpoint. He knew her—he was certain of it. Or maybe it was his wolf that knew her. The pull tightened, insistent, and unwelcome.
He dragged his gaze away and forced himself to focus on the announcer’s words.
“This is not just any witch,” the man continued, his tone dripping with theatrical reverence. “This one is pure potential. Bound, sealed, untouched. The perfect balance of power and control.”
Grayson’s stomach twisted, but his face remained impassive. He’d learned a long time ago how to mask disgust behind a neutral expression. His wolf wasn’t as disciplined. It bristled at the announcer’s words, letting out a low rumble that trembled beneath Grayson’s skin.
He shifted his weight, forcing his wolf back again.You don’t get to lose control now, he told it.Not here.
The girl on stage didn’t move an inch as the announcer gestured toward her ropes. “Enchanted bindings, designed to suppress even the strongest magic. She can’t fight. She can’t run. And she can’t hurt you.”
Grayson’s lips pressed together. The bindings were no doubt laced with dampening spells, but they didn’t look like they’d been applied cleanly. The knots were rough and frayed,and there was too much blood on her wrists for the kind of precision enchantments the announcer was bragging about—sloppy work but effective enough.
“And look at her,” the announcer continued, stepping back to give the crowd a better view. “A beauty, yes, but don’t let her size fool you. This one’s got fight. Fire. A will strong enough to make her magic burn even brighter.”
