Page 99 of Made for Mayhem

I stood utterly still, watching the woman I hadn’t touched in two weeks get introduced like a prize.

Bob lifted the mic again. “Bidding starts at fifty dollars!”

“Fifty!” Delgado shouted, jutting his hand into the air.

I turned. “Smash.”

He grinned. “Hell yeah, fuck yeah, Coach.”

Daisy’s gaze flicked to me, her smile spreading wide.

“Do I hear one hundred?”

“Hundred!” Luka’s voice cut in from the side of the crowd, smug as hell. That punk had worked at the coffee shop for a decade and would flirt with a damn wall.

“One-fifty,” Mikko said, hands still tucked in his jacket pockets.

That did it.

Something snapped in my chest, all the patience I’d clung to evaporating in an instant. I’d kept my distance because she was grieving. Because timing mattered. But watching these assholes bid on her like she was a goddamn raffle basket?

I stepped forward. “Five hundred.”

The crowd went silent, all eyes on me.

Daisy’s head whipped toward me. “Ty⁠—”

“Five hundred!” Bob repeated, eyes wide. “Wow, okay! Do I hear six?”

Delgado blinked. “Coach, come on⁠—”

“Seven hundred,” Luka laughed.

“Two thousand.”

The silence this time was absolute.

Beckett swore. Mason choked.

Bob stared at me. “Oh, wow. Okay. Two thousand dollars. Do I hear $2,100?”

Mikko’s brows lifted. “For charity, right?”

“Careful, buddy,” Beckett answered.

“Twenty-five hundred,” Mikko said after a beat. He stared right at Shannon standing off to the side when he said it, her grey eyes mere slits in her face as she stared right back.

I didn’t hesitate. “Five thousand.”

A ripple went through the crowd. Someone laughed nervously.

Bob cleared his throat. “Five thousand dollars! Do I hear⁠—”

“Ten thousand,” I said, knowing this wasn’t how an auction worked, and not caring at all.

“Sold!” Bob shouted, slamming his gavel down on the podium. “To Ty Hudson for ten thousand dollars!”

Applause exploded around us, but I was already moving.