Chapter 4 Bid worth billion

“Change into this.”

The burly woman shoved a dress into my hands. It was shiny.. Too short. When I slipped it on, my stomach sank because it was then I noticed every other woman was wearing the same thing.. The same numbered tag pinned to the fabric like we were items, not people.

I swallowed hard.

There was no time to think, no time to ask questions. The door opened again and everything happened fast. Cold cuffs snapped around our wrists. Rough hands shoved us forward. Another black cloth was dragged over my head. Then we were pushed—thrown—into what felt like the back of a truck.

I made sure not to walk straight.

I stumbled on purpose. Let my knees buckle. Fell onto my ass once, then into the man holding me the next time. I let my head loll, my steps uneven, my body slack. They couldn’t know I hadn’t taken whatever poison they fed us. They couldn’t suspect I was still fully here.

The truck finally moved.

My legs bounced uncontrollably, my body aching with every jolt. My heart slammed so hard against my ribs it hurt. The dress. The number tags. The way they handled us.

What did it all mean?

Was Steve serious when he said his boss could send us to the deepest part of hell?

The truck screeched to a sudden stop.

We were yanked out one by one. I heard a man curse loudly, his voice sharp with irritation as he muttered that one of the women wasn’t breathing anymore.

My stomach twisted violently.

Oh God.

But they didn’t slow down. They just kept moving, dragging the rest of us forward until we stopped again. The cloth stayed over my head, but the air changed. Warmer.. We were indoors.

“Put them according to their numbers,” a voice ordered.

Suddenly we were pushed and pulled in different directions. Hands gripping arms, shoulders, hair. The room was eerily quiet except for soft moans and broken whimpers from the girls who were no longer fully conscious.

I wasn’t pretending anymore. Fear had taken over completely.

Then a sharp sound cut through the silence. The screech of a microphone being tested.

I flinched, every nerve in my body on edge.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” a man’s voice boomed.

My stomach dropped.

Ladies and gentlemen?

Where were we?

“We are pleased to welcome you to yet another celebration of our tenth-year anniversary,” the man continued smoothly, “but this time, we are doing things differently. Bigger. Better.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. He was smiling while terror wrapped its hands around my throat.

“You are all familiar with how things usually go,” he said. “From the comfort of your rooms, screens on, making your selections in private. But not tonight. Many of our members have complained of being cheated. Not fast enough to claim what they desire before it’s taken away.”

He laughed softly.

No one else did.

My hands trembled. His words were finally making sense, and at the same time, none at all. Members. Choices. Desires. I knew where I was. I just didn’t want to accept it.

It couldn’t be happening to me. It shouldn’t be.

“So, without further ado,” he continued, “we will be placing our bets. You see what you like, you press the button beside you, and you make your choice.”

My breath caught.

This wasn’t a room.

It was an auction.

Every fight left my body at once. Whatever strength I thought I had been holding onto drained away, leaving only fear. My eyes burned with tears as my fingers dug into my nail beds, picking until I felt the sting of blood. I welcomed the pain. It was the only thing keeping me grounded.

The cloth was yanked off our heads.

The sudden light blinded me at first. I blinked rapidly, my vision adjusting, but even when it cleared, I still couldn’t really see. We were standing on a stage, bright lights flooding us from above, while the audience sat in complete darkness. I could make out shapes, silhouettes, rows of heads—but no faces.

The buzzing started.

One sharp sound, then another.

Number one was chosen first. A bid of seventy-five million dollars was placed on her, just like that, as if they were buying furniture. As the numbers went down, the prices went up. Eighty. Ninety. More buzzing. More laughter from the man with the microphone.

Fifty girls were sold.

By the time I realized it, only three of us were left.

My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t draw in enough air. I was standing on a stage, tagged with a number, about to be sold to the highest bidder. My knees trembled, my vision blurring again.

Lila.

The thought of her nearly broke me.

I didn’t have time to fall apart. The girl beside me was sold for ninety-five million dollars. The next for a hundred million. Applause followed, low and satisfied.

“And now,” the speaker’s voice rang out, loud and pleased, “we come to the final lady of the night.”

He laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is truly a wild evening. These numbers are unlike anything we’ve seen before. These ladies must be very special.”

I stood there, frozen, trying not to look as terrified as I felt. My hands shook, my heart racing so loudly I was sure they could hear it.

“Finally,” he continued, “we have just one lady standing. If I were choosing for myself, I’d say she’s my favorite.”

He paused, then laughed again. “Just kidding. I can already hear the complaints.”

The crowd stirred in the darkness.

“So, without wasting any time, if you like this lovely lady—”

The buzzing started again.

One. Then another. Then several at once.

My breath hitched. Too many buzzes. Far too many.

“Oh my God,” the man laughed. “All this noise for just one woman.”

People raised their tags in the darkness, their shapes barely visible, but their intent painfully clear.

“Alright,” he drawled. “Let’s do this the modern way. We’ll start at two hundred million dollars—”

“Two-fifty,” a voice called out.

The speaker whistled. “Three-fifty.”

“Four-fifty.”

“Five-fifty.”

My legs felt weak. My body swayed.

“Damn,” the speaker muttered, clearly impressed.

He stepped off the podium and walked toward me, microphone still in hand. That was when I finally saw his face. Tall. Lanky. Brown hair. A smile that made my skin crawl. I burned his face into my memory, every sharp line of it.

He circled me slowly, openly assessing me like I was nothing more than flesh and bone. Like I wasn’t even there. I glared back at him, tears clinging to my lashes but refusing to fall. I would not give him that satisfaction.

“Even up close,” he said smoothly, “you are a true beauty, lot Fifty-Five.”

Not Indigo.

Just a number.

His phone buzzed.

He pulled it out without breaking eye contact with me, only glancing down once the screen was in his hand. His expression changed instantly. Eyes widening. Mouth falling open.

“What?” he shouted.

The room went silent. Even my heartbeat seemed to stop.

“I think,” he said slowly, his voice filled with disbelief, “we have our buyer for the night.”

A pause.

“Someone just placed a bid of one billion dollars for our damsel here.”

My legs finally gave out.

Before I could hit the ground, hands grabbed my arms, hauling me up and dragging me forward.

“I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen,” the speaker purred. “Better luck next time.”

And just like that, I was being delivered to my buyer.