Circling the building once, I keep myself pressed to the walls and out of sight. I catch sight of two guards at the main entrance, milling around like they don’t know what’s happening inside, but given their scents, they’re shifters too.
Avoiding them, I slip around to the side and find a secondary entrance. It’s locked, but with some time and a bit of finesse, I work the lock undone, and before long, I’m inside.
The smell of sweat, alcohol, and money hits me first, then comes the fear, fresh and rolling through the place in suffocating waves.
My vision sharpens as I step into the main room, and for a second, I assume I must’ve misread the situation, but then I see the stage, and everything inside me goes still as the reality of it sets in.
Individuals, both men and women, are brought out one by one in chains and paraded around the stage while othersplace their bids, observing the people on display like objects with satisfaction.
It’s an auction.
It’s disgusting.
Gritting my teeth, I squeeze my hands down at my sides to suppress the instincts screaming at me to tear the place apart. Just watching them be strutted around, expressions ranging from blank to furious to broken, it sets off a low, burning rage in me.
Not only is it illegal, but it’s also a bold, unrepentant move from wolves willing to traffic others across pack lines and to present them like objects to everyone else.
It’s hard to say what exactly the clientele is, or what their associations might be, but judging by the crowd, I have the feeling they’ve been doing this for a while.
Scanning the room, I force myself to stay in control and to focus on gathering intel. I might’ve gone off on this mission alone, but that doesn’t mean I’m prepared to return empty-handed.
Losing my mind here won’t help anyone. I need information—I need to understand who’s behind this, and just how far they’re willing to go.
But before I can even do that, I go completely still once my gaze lands on her.
Standing just off the stage, I catch that vaguely familiar scent of hers, and after a moment, she’s guided across the stage just like the others.
Naia.
For a moment, I assume I’m imagining it and that my mind is just playing tricks on me, pulling a ghost from my past to distract me from the horrors around me. But it’s not a trick, and it’s not an illusion. It’s her.
Regardless of how much time has passed, I can still see the girl who used to sit with me at the edge of Wraith Peak territory in her, telling me things she couldn’t tell anyone else. She was the girl who trusted me when I did nothing to earn it.
From under the lights, her dark hair falls over her shoulders, and her eyes are blazing with unmistakable fury and defiance.
These people caught her one way or another, but she’s not even close to being helpless or broken, for that matter.
What the hell is she doing here?
I take her in completely, searching for injuries or anything beyond her restraints. I can’t pick up on anything, but I know there has to be something keeping her wolf buried and stopping her from fighting back. She’d be dangerous otherwise.
She had been full of fire back before I left, but when I saw her again in Coldreach just a few months ago, it seemed like an understatement.
All the while I watch her move across the stage, catching the attention of the crowd, those memories collide with me all over again, and I can’t shake the distant sound of her laughter or the way she would glare at me when I teased her.
Despite the several years between us, she was always fearless while she sat next to me and told me all about her family. About the pressure, the expectations, and the things she couldn’t escape despite wanting to at times.
It made me dread the day I left, even though it was the most important day to me.
Even when she asked me not to, I did anyway. I went away, and I never looked back. But now, it’s like that decision is staring right back at me.
The guilt flickers before settling in my chest, and it takes some effort to push it aside. There’s no time for that when she’s here, and she’s about to be sold.
Like hell.
“Next up, we have a rare one,” the auctioneer says, voice cutting through the noise. When the crowd’s attention shifts again, he smiles. “This one comes from a strong bloodline…Wraith Peak origins, so I’m told.”
Naia stiffens as she’s spoken about like nothing more than a piece of furniture, and she lifts her chin slightly.
