Chapter 7

Cayla POV:

My hands were still bandaged when the text came.

Be ready at 7 PM. Wear the white dress.

The charity gala.

Cherrelle stood on stage, holding a microphone.

"Tonight, a special item! The traitor who tried to poison me!"

She pointed at me.

"We are auctioning her labor for one night! Proceeds go to the orphanage!"

The crowd laughed.

I stood under the blinding lights.

"Twenty thousand!"

A man stepped out of the shadows. Mr. Vane. A Rogue merchant with a scar down his face and a reputation for breaking things.

"Sold!"

Vane grabbed my arm. He leaned close. "I smell something sweet under that fear."

I looked at Grafton. Please, I begged silently.

Grafton swirled his whiskey. He looked conflicted, but he didn't move. He let it happen.

Vane dragged me to the hotel. Room 304.

He threw me onto the bed.

"Now," he grunted. "Let's see what the Alpha threw away."

Panic flooded me.

"Don't touch me."

Vane laughed.

He lunged.

I grabbed the heavy brass lamp.

CRACK.

Bone crunched. Vane collapsed.

I ran.

I made it to my old apartment.

Ten minutes later, the door flew off its hinges.

Grafton stood there, eyes glowing red.

"You killed him," he roared. "You killed a guest under Pack protection!"

"He tried to rape me!" I screamed.

"He was a buyer!" Grafton shouted. "Do you have any idea the political storm you just started? The Rogue Council will demand blood!"

"Is that all I am?" I asked, tears spilling. "A political liability?"

"You are a headache," he spat. "Vane was garbage, but he was protected garbage. Tomorrow, you apologize to his clan. And then you attend my engagement party."

"Engagement?"

"I'm making Cherrelle Luna. Tomorrow night."

He walked out.

That was the moment the last ember of hope died.