CASSIA
"Strip!"
My head pounded as I jolted awake to the sound of shouting. Masculine voices. Rough. Cruel.
"Let's see what we're buying!"
Buying? Was I in a marketplace?
My throat went dry.
The last thing I remembered was the bathroom. The masked figure. The ring. The same one my father had given to me and those black eyes staring down at me with clear murderous intent. That smile.
I blinked twice, trying to clear my vision, but it didn't help. My head rang as if a drum were being beaten inside it. My ears throbbed, yet the men's voices cut through sharply.
No matter how much I blinked, darkness swallowed everything. It felt intentional, as though the lights had been put out just so I wouldn't see.
And somehow, that was better than what churned inside me.
My inside coiled into tight, sickening knots. Nausea rose in my throat and I forced it back down with every ounce of will I had.
Then I felt it.
Something brushing against me. Crawling over my skin.
BARK!
A dog?
A hoarse sound tore from my throat as I recoiled, but I didn't get far. Strong arms restrained me.
The shouting resumed.
"How can we buy what we can't see? So what if she's Marcelli's daughter?"
"He's dead anyway. She's a war spoil!"
"We've got his precious little daughter all to ourselves!"
I swallowed, bile burning the back of my throat.
"Fine. Let's start the bidding. And of course, you're going to see her!"
Oh God.
I was in an auction house.
I shuddered as a hand pressed hard against my shoulders. I tried to shrug it off, but the grip only tightened.
"Bitch," a voice snarled close to my ear. "Stay calm, or I'll send you to hell to join your father without hesitation."
I went still, dragging in a shaky breath.
The fear did not leave. It burned deeper, pressing against my heart, turning my stomach until I thought I might vomit.
I clenched my jaw and waited.
"Face reveal in one… two… three!"
Something was yanked off my head. Cool air slapped against my cheeks and tangled in my hair.
I forced my eyes open and immediately winced as harsh light stabbed into them. I shut them again, then tried once more, slower this time.
When my vision finally adjusted, the sight before me turned my blood cold.
Men. Dozens of them. Old enough to be my father. Perhaps older.
They surrounded a ring like platform where I stood. Each held a bidding paddle. Masks covered their faces, but their eyes were visible. Hungry. Predatory. Glinting with lust and satisfaction.
Delight at possessing Leonardo Marcelli's daughter.
I was at the blood ring. No doubt about it.
A place where humans were trafficked and deals were sealed in blood. The most dangerous corner of the underworld.
I had never been here before. This was my first time, and I could not for the life of me figure out which member of my family had done this to me.
My father's siblings, already clawing at one another over his properties?
Or my stepmother and her daughters, who had hated me from the moment they stepped into our home?
Disgust and anger twisted through me, and I did not bother to hide it. I let them see exactly what I thought of them.
They had not even waited for the news of my father's death to settle before orchestrating this. The soil over his grave was still damp.
They must have been waiting for this moment. Waiting for him to die.
"I can't wait to have her look at me like that," someone shouted from the crowd. "That bastard Marcelli kept his precious little doll hidden from society, but he had no problem fucking our sisters and daughters whenever he pleased!"
"Come on, start the bid. I'm getting impatient!" another voice called out.
I shivered at the eagerness in their tones. My gaze dropped to the thick rope cutting into my wrists, then lifted as I searched desperately for an exit.
There. A door, about five long strides away. Two massive men stood guard in front of it.
I doubted I could reach it before being dragged back. But it was something. I could give it a try.
"Stand up. And don't think of doing anything stupid. I'll blow your head off if you try to run."
A cold metal object pressed into my back. I gulped and turned my head.
The man behind me looked to be in his forties. He wasn't wearing a mask like most of the people here. Greying hair at his temples. A thick scar ran from beneath his eye down to his upper lip, twisting his face into something even more grotesque. His dark brown eyes locked onto mine without blinking.
"Lot Seventeen," he announced coldly, still staring at me. "Sole heir of the late Leonardo Marcelli. Untouched. Unclaimed. Highly valuable."
A sick grin stretched across his face. His eyes gleamed with a delight that made bile rise in my throat.
"We're starting the bidding at thirty million."
Thirty million?
I scanned the crowd. That was an absurd amount for someone like me. Yet none of them looked shocked. If anything, they looked amused. Interested.
Paddles began to rise immediately.
"And pray someone buys you, little doll," he murmured close to my ear. "Because if you remain unsold, you'll wish you'd died with your father."
I steadied my breathing, my body shaking terribly and I tried to stop it, to make my fear unknown, but the shivering would not stop.
I looked down at myself.
A thin white dress clung to my body. It was not mine. The fabric was sheer enough to outline every curve I barely even acknowledged before. Perhaps designed to give them something to stare at while they decided my worth.
Several paddles lifted.
"Thirty-five!"
"Forty!"
"Sixty!"
"Seventy!"
The numbers climbed rapidly. My head swam. My body felt unbearably heavy, as though gravity had doubled. Pain throbbed in my ankle. I could not even remember when I had injured it, but it pulsed viciously now.
I wanted to sit down. The man behind me dug his nails into my shoulder, forcing me upright.
"Eighty!"
"Eighty five!"
"One hundred million!"
A disbelieving sound left me as I searched for the bidder.
Short. Pudgy. A swollen stomach straining against his suit. Balding scalp, thick lips and nose. He dragged a blue tinged tongue across his mouth slowly, savoring the moment.
I nearly gagged.
The room fell quiet. No one countered.
My pulse thundered in my ears. Panic clawed at my ribs. I was about to belong to him. To one of my father's enemies.
"She's mine. Give me that bitch!"
No.
I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed. To anyone. To anything. Just once, let me be saved from this terrible fate.
Seconds passed, and nothing happened. My hope began to wither. Then a voice cut cleanly through the silence.
Deep. Controlled. Powerful.
"Three hundred million."
My eyes snapped open. My breath caught.
Silence fell again.
But this time, it felt different.
I had thought one hundred million was already obscene. But a fucking three hundred million euros…for me?!
I scanned the crowd, desperate to see who had spoken, but all I could make out were shadows and masks. Then I saw them.
Eyes.
Dark. So dark they felt endless. They did not look at me with hunger like the others. They looked through me, as though stripping away every last shred of dignity I had left.
"Three hundred?" the auctioneer repeated, shock slipping into his tone.
"Three hundred million," the voice confirmed calmly.
"Three hundred million going once."
Fear crashed over me again. My heart pounded so violently I thought I might collapse.
"Going twice."
Help!
A sharp crack echoed through the room.
"Sold."
The word felt like a death sentence.
Before I could react, I was gagged and a sack was yanked over my head. I was shoved forward, hands grabbing, pushing, dragging. I could not see. Could not speak.
"Take her to him. He knows what to do with her."
That was the last thing I heard before I was thrown into a car. The engine roared to life.
I had no idea where we were going.
The car ride blurred into motion and nausea. Then I was transferred again. The unmistakable thrum of helicopter blades filled the air.
I could not tell how long we flew. Minutes. Hours. Time lost meaning while I sat thinking of who my new master would be.
Eventually, we stopped. My stomach lurched as the movement ceased.
"I need three of you to come with me. Take that slut to the boss. He's been waiting," a voice barked.
I ignored the insult. I had been called worse.
What I hated was the way they dragged me, as though I were a lifeless doll incapable of resistance.
Gravel crunched beneath my bare feet. Sharp stones bit into my skin. Heat burned upward, searing. I moaned but forced myself not to cry out.
Three minutes. Maybe less. Maybe more. Then the ground changed. Cooler. Smoother.
We stopped.
"Let me see her," a deep baritone voice commanded softly.
I let out a slow breath as the sack was pulled from my head.
Air rushed over my face. I blinked rapidly, clearing the dark spots swimming in my vision.
When my sight finally adjusted, I took in where I was.
Magnificent did not begin to describe it.
The living room stretched upward in impossible height. The ceiling soared two stories above polished marble floors that gleamed beneath gold detailing and recessed lighting. One wall was entirely glass, revealing perfectly manicured grounds beyond. The opposite wall was paneled in cream with gilded moldings, regal enough to belong in a palace.
My gaze moved over ornate, gold trimmed sofas upholstered in ivory, positioned around a low table of glass and stone.
Then it stopped.
At the shoes of the man standing before me.
Costly whole cut Oxfords, gleaming beneath the light. Tailored navy trousers outlining long, straight legs. A dark silk tie. Crisp white shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows.
Tattoos. Intricate dark ink curled over toned forearms. This was not an old man. Not even close.
I wet my lips and slowly lifted my gaze. Obsidian eyes met mine.
My breath caught. My jaw slackened as disbelief crashed through me.
"K… Kairos?!"