Chapter 2

I don’t flinch as the door to the compound slams shut behind me. A sound too final to be anything but deliberate.

The hallway is long, all stone and steel and silent. I can hear the soft click of vampire boots behind me like they’re pacing their hunger. The air smells sterile, like bleach and old death. Everything echoes.

I think of the pack.

Not the wolves. Not the blood or the politics or my father’s cold, half-lidded stares. I miss the little things. The way the forest smells in the early morning, all pine and wet soil. My youngest brother’s dumb howl when he used to win at cards. Even the creak of the attic stairs when my sister Arya snuck in late from patrol.

I miss my life. Not the cage—just the parts that made the bars quieter.

But there’s no use in nostalgia when you’re being herded like cattle.

The vampires haven’t spoken to me once since we left the pack. Not even when the van swerved, and I cracked my head against the window. Nothing but silence and smirks.

Now, I walk with three of them. Two at my back, and one ahead. The blue-eyed one. He hasn’t looked at me, nor touched me or spoken.

Which somehow makes him worse.

I don’t ask where we’re going. If I’ve learned anything in the training session, it’s that they love questions. Makes the screams taste better later.

We take a turn into another hallway. This one’s colder. Narrower. A place where sound goes to die. I can hear my breath now, and the way my pulse picks up with each step. I count them. Nine. Ten. Eleven. A pause.

The blue-eyed one stops. Goddess... He’s... tall.

The other two vampires keep walking. One of them snorts as he passes.

“You really think this one’s worth the build-up?” he mutters.

The other chuckles. “They’re all the same once the collar snaps shut.”

Then they’re gone.

It’s just me and the silent one. He opens a door.

I don’t move.

He looks at me, then. Just once. Like he’s measuring something. I meet his gaze with all the fire I have left.

“After you,” he says. His voice is low, smooth, and annoyingly calm.

I step past him, shoulders square.

The room is small. Empty. Stone walls. A single chair. A sink in the corner. There’s something red-ish dried on it.

The door clicks shut behind me.

I wait. I study the empty space, trying to ignore the fact that he hasn’t left.

Instead, he leans against the wall, arms crossed. Watching.

Minutes pass. My spine aches from standing, but I refuse to sit. My pride’s the only thing I didn’t have to beg to keep.

“You don’t talk much,” I murmur.

His mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Almost.

“You don’t strike me as the shy type, though,” I add.

He glances my way, blue eyes like frost laced with something more dangerous. Hunger maybe. Or curiosity with a sharp edge.

His voice, when it comes, slides under my skin. “You’ve got loud eyes,” he says, like he’s tasted secrets right off my skin.

Please don’t blush now. Please don’t blush! I will myself.

His mouth twitches.

I dare to step closer. Just enough to still be ‘safe’.

I have to tilt my head up to look at him. “I’ve been the picture of good behavior, I’ve been quiet for hours,” I say. “Don’t I at least deserve a prize?”

His brow arches. “A prize?”

I nod, trying really hard not to smile. “Maybe your name.”

There’s a pause. Like even the air is holding its breath.

That gets a reaction. Not a smile, but something in his eyes sharpens, almost amused. Or interested. It flickers too fast to catch. Like heat before the burn.

He doesn’t step closer—but he doesn’t have to. The space between us crackles. Heavy. Charged.

My pulse betrays me.

His gaze drops to my throat.

I lift my chin. “That stare is part of your training, or are you just naturally rude?”

He blinks, slow. Arching a brow, the blue eyed vampire says, “Neither. You’re just… distracting.”

I can barely breathe.

Then he turns away, leaving me in the silence that suddenly feels too warm.

I cross my arms, looking down at my feet. “Goddess... It’s just a name.”

He doesn’t rise to it but I know he can hear me.

Looking up at him, I catch his gaze. His eyes linger on me a little too long. A flicker of interest, maybe. Or amusement. It’s hard to tell with vampires. They look at you like they’re already planning the eulogy.

“Why am I here?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer.

I start to pace. Slow but controlled. I want him to think I’m fine. That I’m not wondering what comes next, even though my gut is twisting like it knows.

“Is this the part where you drain me, or do you like your meals anxious first?”

“You’ll find out,” he says. Then adds, almost bored, “Eventually.”

Then he leaves.

No instructions. No threat. Just silence and a locked door.

Hours must have passed, but I’m not sure. There’s no clock. No windows. Just cold stone and the slow crawl of my own thoughts.

I remember the moment I left the pack.

My father standing at the edge of the wreckage, smoke curling from the ruins of our home. My mother’s blood still fresh in the dirt. He didn’t cry. Didn’t shout. Just looked at me with those piercing, Alpha hazel eyes and said, “You’ll be doing something important for once, Blake.”

And when I nodded, dazed, grieving, he had the nerve to clasp my shoulder like he was proud. Like I was finally useful.

He told me he’d find a way to bring me back.

I don’t believe him. I think he doesn’t believe him either.

The door opens again.

Oh, thank Goddess!

Another vampire. A woman this time. Red hair, red lips, eyes black like two open graves.

She tosses a bundle of black fabric at me.

“Change,” she says. “You’re on soon.”

“On?”

She smiles. All teeth. “You’ll see.”

The next hallway is different. Wider. Lit with strange, pulsing lights. I hear voices now—low murmurs, laughter, something metallic clinking.

There are others here. People. Humans. Some younger than me, some older. All dressed like me. All silent. All staring straight ahead like they already know what’s coming.

I try to speak to the girl beside me. She flinches.

One of the vampire guards grins. “Aw, look. The pup wants friends.”

Another male chuckles. “Should tell her. This is not that kind of party. She’s hot.”

They move ahead, talking to each other like we’re furniture.

“She’s the one from the Ironthorn pack, right?”

“Supposedly. Bit disappointing. Thought they’d send someone taller.”

“She’ll fetch a good price, though. Those Alpha genetics.”

“Doesn’t matter. They’re just blood bags.”

They laugh.

I clench my fists.

Not because of what they said. Because they’re not wrong.

But I plan. I mark faces. Voices. Weaknesses. The blue-eyed one hasn’t reappeared, but I remember how he looked at me. Like I wasn’t just meat.

Maybe I imagined it.

We’re herded through a door into a waiting chamber. The stage is behind a curtain. I hear applause. A voice announcing something.

A girl ahead of me trembles so hard she can’t stand.

I don’t help her. Not because I don’t want to. Because I know how this works. The moment I reach out, I become vulnerable. And goddessdamnit, I’ve already given up enough.

The curtain parts. A guard grabs my arm.

“Smile,” he whispers. “Or don’t. Fear always sells better.”

I’m shoved forward. Lights blind me. Heat slams into my face. My feet hit the stage.

And then I see them.

Rows of vampires. Lounging. Laughing. Holding up numbered paddles like it’s a game.

I look at them. Two of them smile at me, and I want to crawl out of my skin.

But the blue-eyed one doesn’t look at me like that.

He just watches.

The announcer’s voice booms.

“Lot Thirty-Two. Human. Ironthorn lineage. Blood Type: pending.”

I can’t breathe. I thought I was being sent to serve.

But this… this is a freaking sale.

An auction.

What the actual fuck?

The room spins as I hear the crowd murmuring.

Then the vampires start bidding.