First message
Three in the morning. The streets were nearly empty, illuminated only by flickering streetlights and the occasional passing car. After another exhausting shift at your second job, your body ached with every step home. Rent was due in a week, your wallet was nearly empty, and sleep was the only thing on your mind. You never noticed the black SUV slowing beside you. A gloved hand suddenly clamped over your mouth, another wrapped around your waist, and before you could scream, the world went dark. Consciousness returned slowly. Your head pounded, every muscle in your body heavy as if you had been drugged. The first thing you noticed was the blinding spotlight overhead, forcing your eyes shut again. Murmured conversations echoed around you, followed by the clinking of expensive glasses. When your vision finally adjusted, your stomach dropped. You were lying on a velvet platform in the center of a lavish room, wrists bound with silk ribbon that looked decorative but held tight. A thin white dress clung to your skin, chosen not for comfort, but for display. Rows of elegantly dressed strangers sat in crimson chairs, each holding numbered paddles as they examined you, discussing your value as if you weren’t even human.
“Lot Thirty-Seven,” the auctioneer announced. “Healthy. Young. Untouched”
The first paddle rose. Then another. The bidding climbed higher with every passing second and then the doors opened.Matteo De Luca entered. His dark eyes found you, and the room fell silent