Page 8 of Dark Sold Mate

“Don't touch me.”

The warehouse was getting empty. The buyers were moving towards different exits with the women they bought. The auctioneer was also getting ready to leave.

They only had a few minutes before someone would begin to ask questions.

“Elle, there is no time for this.”

“I am not leaving with you.”

Silas grunted, crouched, grabbed her waist, and threw her over his shoulders. Elle gasped and struck his back with her fists to no avail. “Put me down!” she screamed.

Silas did not reply or make any move to stop. He headed to the nearest exit. One of the handlers approached him. “Sir, you must—” he stopped talking when Silas bared his teeth. The handler flushed and walked away.

Silas walked out of the warehouse into the chilly night. His truck remained where he had strategically left it in order to make a quick escape. Elle continued to fight him, screaming, and it caught the eye of the few shifters who remained lingering around the parking lot. He strolled towards the truck, opened the passenger door, and threw her in.

“Child locks,” Silas said, slamming her door shut. He then went around the car, got into the driver's seat, and switched on the engine.

Elle grabbed the door handle and frantically pulled it. “Let me out! Let me out right now!”

Silas pulled out of the parking lot, glancing in the rear-view mirror. He caught a glimpse of two of the shifters looking at him, phones already in hand. Fuck. They would report this. It was weird enough that he paid a fortune. Now he was basically fleeing.

His mission was compromised. Six months of work and planning—swept away in one moment.

He didn't care.

What he found important was the woman beside him who had haunted his dreams for eight years. His mate and her unmistakable scent filling the truck, making him grip the steering wheel even tighter, breathing through his mouth.

The city lights blurred past as he drove faster, pushing past the speed limit. Elle was no longer trying the door handle, but she sat as close to the window as possible.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“There's nothing safe about being in a car with you.”

The words cut deeper than they should have. Silas's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Twenty minutes passed in tense silence. Silas took a side path that most people didn't know, glancing back at every turn, to be sure that no one had followed him from the warehouse. After he was sure, he drove into a deserted parking lot at the outskirts of the city.

He switched off the engine and grabbed Elle by her wrists, which were still tied. As expected, she flinched.

“I just want to remove the bindings.”

“Don't touch me.”

“Elle, I need to—”

“I said, don't touch me!” She turned to look at him, her face contorted in rage. “You sick bastard. You bought me as if I were some sort of thing.”

Understanding dawned on Silas. She thought he was one of the traffickers.

“Elle, no. You don't understand.”

“I understand perfectly. You're just like them. Just like all of them. I should have known. I should have guessed you would be able to do something like this.”

Silas felt the sting of the accusation, but he could not blame her. He had provided her with all the reasons to believe that he was the worst.

“I am not one of them,” he began to explain. “I have been following this business for a few months, and I have been trying to figure out who's running it. I was there to collect intelligence and not to purchase slaves.”