Page 6 of Dark Sold Mate

A pair of hands grabbed her. A cloth was pressed against her mouth and nose. Her eyes turned cloudy as she had struggled and had failed to escape.

She'd woken up in a cage. Metal bars, concrete floor, smells of fear and unwashed bodies. Other women had been there too, terrified. They were all human.

Elle had tried to extract information from them. Where they were. Who'd taken them. How long they'd been there. The majority were too traumatized to speak coherently.

Some men, whom the women referred to as “handlers,” came. They inspected their teeth, inspected their bodies, talked about their qualities as though they were merchandise.

Elle immediately put everything together. They were getting ready to be sold. Chills ran up her spine.

She'd tried to escape twice. The first time she had gotten to a door before a handler had caught her, and banged her against a wall hard enough to bruise. The second time, she never even made it out of the cage properly before she was caught and her wrists were tied.

Earlier in the morning, they came for her. They carried her out of the cage, dragged her into a shower, made her put on a dress that had obviously been used by other victims.

Then they'd brought her here. To this warehouse. To this stage. To this auction, where they were bidding on human women like furniture.

For the past hour, Elle had remained backstage, watching other women being sold. Seeing the buyers scrutinize them cold-bloodedly. Watching handlers drag the sold women away to fates Elle didn't want to imagine.

And all she could think was that she'd survived everything. The pack's cruelty. Banishment. Homelessness. Poverty. She had managed to build a life worth living.

And here it was over now, on this stage, and soon to be sold to the highest bidder. It was unfair.

“And now,” the auctioneer said, drawing Elle back to the present, “our last offering of the evening.”

This was it, then.

Elle lifted her head and looked at the audience. She would not even give them the pleasure of watching her break. She wouldn't cower or cry or beg.

“See this one,” the auctioneer continued. “Beautiful curves. A gem. The ideal addition to any set.”

Elle narrowed her eyes, wishing she could spit in his face. But she stayed silent. That wouldn't help. She could only hope to survive and wish to get a chance to make an escape in the future.

“Bid starts at ten thousand.”

Someone called out a higher number. Elle didn't catch it. Her heart was beating too loud, and her breath came out in short spurts despite her efforts to keep calm.

Another voice. Another bid.

The price climbed. Elle felt sick.

Then there was a deep voice that sounded dreadfully familiar.

“Fifty thousand.”

No. No, it couldn't be.

Elle's eyes searched the crowd, looking for the person behind that voice. It could not be. Fate couldn't be that cruel.

There. In the back row. A figure standing while everyone else sat.

Dark blond hair. Broad shoulders. Even from a distance, Elle could feel the intensity of his stare.

Silas Weston.

Her past bully. Her brother's best friend. The man who treated her so vilely, she had spent the last eight years trying to forget him.

He was here. At this auction. Bidding on her.

This realization washed over her like a tidal wave. Shock and disbelief coursed through her veins.