Chapter 2 Lot 845

Iris's POV

They brought me to a massive mansion that looked like a girl's dormitory hidden deep in the forest, far from the city and any chance of escape. The men were silent throughout the journey and I wasn't in the mood to start a conversation with any of them. All I wanted to do was just survive this. Mimi's betrayal still stung me deeply and whenever I closed my eyes. All I could see was her cold face smiling back at me.

I wanted to cry so badly, let the tears flow freely from my eyes while I cursed my parents for bringing me into this cold world.

Revenge filled my mind and I swore to myself that I would make it through this. The men led me into the house and I soon discovered that I wasn't the only girl in the house. There were dozens of us from all over the world. Brought here for whatever reason you could think of.

Some of them were refugees, fleeing their country, others had been lured here on the pretense of a better life. Whatever the reason was, it didn't matter. We were just potential slaves who were here to be trained on how to pleasure our owners.

Our teacher was the most loathsome man I had ever encountered.

Adam Culver.

"Strip."

Adam's command echoed through the dimly lit room. I wrapped my arms around myself, taking a step back. "No."

A cruel smile twisted his lips as he advanced toward me. "You don't have a choice anymore, pretty thing. You're here to learn obedience." His fingers traced my jawline and I jerked away, my stomach churning.

"Don't touch me."

The slap came fast, stinging across my cheek. I stumbled but kept my footing, tasting blood where my teeth had cut into my lip.

"You'll come to learn your place in the following months," he said, circling me like a vulture. "That's how long it usually takes to break the stubborn ones. To teach them their new place in the world." His breath was hot against my neck. "Strip. Now."

I spat in his face.

The next thing I knew, I was being dragged down a dark hallway, my shoulders aching from Adam's brutal grip. He threw me into a windowless room, the metal door clanging shut behind me.

"Two weeks!" His voice carried through the door. "Two weeks without food should teach you some manners."

I curled up in the corner of the empty room, pressing my forehead to my knees. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

Days blurred together in the darkness. My stomach stopped growling after a while, settling into a hollow ache. I lost track of time, marking the days only by the tiny meals of stale bread and water they slid under the door every few days.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened. Adam stood there, looking annoyed.

"Fuck, why so soon? He usually gives me months to properly train these ungrateful wenches," he muttered, yanking me to my feet. "I would have enjoyed breaking you properly. But time's up. They want you at the auction tonight."

My legs could barely hold me as he dragged me through fluorescent-lit corridors. Other girls were being herded in the same direction, all of us stumbling along like sheep to slaughter.

They loaded us into a black van with no windows. I found myself squeezed between two other girls – Sarah, a redhead who couldn't stop crying, and Maria, whose blank stare worried me more than Sarah's tears.

"My father's a lawyer," Sarah whispered, her voice breaking. "He'll find me. He has to find me."

Maria just shook her head, her dark hair falling forward to hide her face. "No one's coming for any of us."

The auction house turned out to be an old theater, its former grandeur now tainted by its current purpose. They herded us backstage, where a sharp-faced woman in a red dress began ordering us around.

"Strip. Everything off. Now." Her voice carried none of Adam's cruelty, just cold efficiency. When some girls hesitated, two burly men stepped forward menacingly.

I forced myself to comply, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. They gave us each a thin silk sash that barely covered anything. Mine was white, marking me as 'untouched' merchandise.

Through the curtain, I could hear the auctioneer's booming voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight's exclusive event."

One by one, they called us out. I watched as Sarah was led onto the stage, her sash pulled away. "Lot 844, eighteen years old, natural redhead. Starting bid at thirty thousand."

The bidding was quick. Sarah went for seventy-five thousand to someone called The Lobo. She struggled as they dragged her away, screaming for her father.

Maria was next. "Lot 845, twenty-two years old, experienced dancer. Starting bid at forty thousand." She went for ninety thousand to a man who kept touching his gold rings as he bid.

Then came Luna, a willowy blonde who'd been in the van with us. "Lot 846, twenty years old, classical pianist. Starting bid at sixty thousand." The bidding war for her was fierce, ending at one hundred and twenty thousand.

With each sale, my heart pounded harder. I watched as Jasmine, Kate, and then Rebecca were sold off like cattle. Some fought, some wept, some just stood there like Maria had, already broken.

Then it was my turn. They pushed me onto the stage, the bright lights blinding me. The silk robe was yanked away, leaving me exposed to hundreds of hungry eyes.

The auctioneer's voice boomed out. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, lot 847. Nineteen years old, untouched. A rare find indeed. Starting bid at fifty thousand."

Silence.

"Forty thousand?"

More silence. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst.

"Thirty thousand? Come now, gentlemen. She's a beauty, even if she's proved... difficult to train."

A few chuckles from the crowd, but no bids. Maybe no one would want me. Maybe I'd-

"Five hundred thousand."

The voice cut through the theater like a blade. Deep, commanding, brooking no argument. The crowd said nothing. It's like they knew.

Wait. Have I forgotten so quickly? Ha. How stupid of me.

The whole ordeal just... I was already promised that man, that Don...Don something.

The auctioneer nearly dropped his gavel. "F-five hundred thousand from Don Vyon! Do I hear-"

"You won't." The same voice, closer now. A figure emerged from the shadows of a private box. He looked at the other bidders, as though daring them to make a counterbid. Nobody who loved their lives did. "She's mine."

And that's why they never said anything. I was sold from the moment I left Mimi's house.

The crowd parted as he approached the stage. Even in the harsh lights, his eyes gleamed silver-gray, fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch. He looked exactly like what he was – dangerous, powerful, completely in control.

Don Damon Vyon. The Devil himself.

And he'd just bought me.

Someone hurriedly brought me a robe, their hands shaking as they helped me into it. I watched as Vyon spoke quietly with the auctioneer, money changing hands with practiced efficiency.

As they led me off stage, I caught a glimpse of the next girl being brought out. Our eyes met briefly – hers filled with terror, mine with an apology I couldn't speak.

Vyon's hand landed on my lower back, guiding me toward the exit. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but it carried an unmistakable possessiveness that made me shiver.

"Mine," he murmured, so quietly that I didn't notice it at first.

That one word terrified me more than anything else that had happened tonight. Because in it, I heard not just ownership, but intention. Not just possession, but obsession.

I'd just been bought by the Devil himself. And somehow, that terrified me less than the way he'd said that single word.

Mine.