Chapter 7 SOLD

ERYX

There was only one thing I hated more than the smell of piss and witches. It was the smell of wolves, which always had a way of ruining the air. It was baked into the walls of this place—old sweat and cheap masking perfumes. And tonight, it reeked.

I sat in my usual chair, furthest from the stage and away from the usual crowd that visited this place. I didn’t need the spotlight, nor did I need to shout or wave paddles around like a desperate prick in heat for attention. My presence was enough, and my existence alone drew attention even when I wished it didn't. All I had to do was move, and people obeyed.

I don’t make it a habit to come to these auctions myself. My men often handled the acquisitions—fighters, debtors, bodies for work no one else wanted and occasionally the poor girls that ended up caught in this, one way or the other—who needed saving and a place where they weren’t fucked to death.

However, curiosity perhaps or something I couldn’t quite figure out yet had let me out here by myself tonight. My right hand, Knox, had asked me where I was headed when I left the castle, but I hadn’t so much as graced him with a response. Not many men knew their way to this hole, but I wasn’t exactly any man.

I watched as the pigs who ran this place dragged one victim after another onto the stage, flaunting them for sale. Every time I come here, the urge to snap their necks grows stronger, but I have to remind myself that killing the pigs in this hole won’t get me anywhere. I would’ve barely scratched the surface. So, despite my contempt, I watched as men who were worse than scum shouted their bids for Omegas, witches, hybrids, and humans who were unfortunate enough to end up here.

Nothing of interest caught my eye. I lit a cigar, slowly losing interest while wondering why I was out here. I stood to my feet, eager to leave when the velvet curtain rippled and the voice of the announcer rang through the dimly lit room.

“Lot Number fifty-one.” I watched as his eyes glinted in the dark. “This one is a rare find. Omega female. Marked but unclaimed. R.O. No known history of suppressant. A true beauty. Starting bid at fifty thousand.” His voice carried through the speaker with excitement as a frail-looking omega was dragged onto the stage by her collar.

My disinterest vanished the minute my eyes landed on her and our gaze clashed. She held my gaze as the room erupted in bidding prices. I cocked my head, jaw ticking as I wondered if she’d look away. Yet she didn’t.

No one on that stage has held my gaze for this long. I could’ve sworn I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes as she was pulled to the centre of the stage, but that emotion was long gone from her eyes the minute the bidding began. Instead I saw disgust, anger and rage.

Rage.

That alone piqued my interest in her.

I scanned her from head to toe. The announcer hadn’t lied. She was a beauty far too precious for this pigsty. Yet somehow she had ended up here. Did she stray away from her pack and was unfortunate enough to fall into the hands of these traffickers? Where was her mate? Why was she marked but unclaimed?

From this distance, I could pick up the hint of Alpha pheromones from her. Which meant her mate must’ve been an Alpha, so how did she end up here because Alphas never let their bonded mate stray far away from them? They were possessive arseholes, and I’ve never liked them.

Unless he didn’t care, and that was rare amongst her kind. Her pale lips pinched as the voices bidding for her grew louder. Two half-breeds in the front row shouted over the other.

“Seventy-five,” one shouted.

“Eighty-five,” the other counted with a sneer.

The anchor’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he watched them, probably already making plans on how to spend the money he earns from selling this strange omega off.

My gaze flickered back to her, and I could see more than just her rage. Underneath that unbridled anger was a weary soul in need of a rest. The more I looked at her, the more curious I became. I had questions that needed answers only she could give me. And that rage, if it is because of what I think it is, then I need her by my side.

Putting out the cigar, I took a step out of the shadows.

“Three hundred thousand,” I announced calmly, my voice rising over everyone else.

The announcer’s eyes widened, and the anchor in charge of the auction gasped. “Three hund—Lord Zahhak?” The anchor stuttered, his breathing catching as the room froze. I wasn’t in the least bothered that the men who had been loud earlier suddenly became statues.

I walked towards the stage, my eyes not leaving her. “Three hundred thousand.” I echoed as I shrugged off my cloak. I closed the distance between us, draping the cloak over her to conceal her naked body. Enough people had seen a piece of her already:

“Take off her collar and unshackle her.” I didn’t need to raise my voice. My presence in itself was all the authority they needed. The men hanging on the stage scrambled around as the anchor made the formal announcement of anyone interested in bidding higher, even though we both knew no one would dare.

The omega before me blinked as the shackles binding her hands and ankles fell, and the collar around her neck was removed. For the first time since she stepped on the stage, the hardness in her gaze faltered as her lips parted. Perhaps to say something, but she clamped them shut, and her shoulders dipped slightly. Despite her silence, I saw the million questions brewing in her confused gaze.

The sound of gravel hitting the podium startled her as the anchor gave a final announcement, “Lot fifty-one, sold for three hundred thousand to Lord Zahhak. The men on the stage stepped forward to escort her backstage as they usually would, but I wasn’t interested in letting them clean her up in their practised way. So I raised my hand to stop their actions.

“Come, Little Wolf, time to go home.” I stretched out my hand to her, wondering if she would take it or not. She eyed me, her gaze moving from my face to my outstretched hand, and against my better judgement, she welcomed my invitation. Taking my hand.