Chapter 3
Angela’s head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind her temples as she fought to regain consciousness. The air around her wiêu dâmp and fatări c the stench of sweat and metal: Her fingers twitched against the cold stone. The murmurs of men speaking in hushed voices tant a ripple of orien through her body.
She wasn’t at home.
She wasn’t even on the streets.
Something was wrong.
She tried to gather her bearings when everything came back in a flash. How Dimitri had dragged her out of her room and someone was there and then she was shoved into the darkness.
Fear crawled up her spine as she shifted slightly, wincing as the pain in her foot flared. She had lost Sasha’s hand, lost the warmth of the stranger’s coat. Now, she had nothing but the suffocating darkness that had always been her companion.
The fear that she might’ve been sold did nothing to ease her erratic heartbeat. She tried to calm down her uneven breathing but it seemed like an invisible task. She was having difficulty in controlling her tears. Angela didn’t want to cry. She wanted to stay strong for her sake but she was so damn scared.
“Wake her up,” a rough voice commanded. She was pretending to sleep all this time and hoping that her buyers would leave her alone but who was she kidding?
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Before she could react, icy water splashed across her face. Angela gasped, jerking up instinctively, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
“Look at that. She’s awake,” another voice sneered. “Not that she can see us.”
Laughter erupted around her. There wasn’t one but so many of them in that place. This fact alone terrified her to her bones.
Angela’s breaths came in shallow pants as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. The floor beneath her was hard and unyielding. She could feel the presence of others, the thick scent of bodies crowding too close. The clinking of metal told her all she needed to know.
Chains.
She wasn’t free.
Angela could feel cold chains biting into her wrists which were held by the chains at her back.
Her stomach twisted. “Where–where am I?” Her voice was small and shaky.
“You, my dear, are up for sale.” A voice sneered as her heart galloped to her mouth and ceased to beat for a fraction of a second before it started beating again at an abnormal pace.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, please—”
“Save your breath,” the man interrupted.
“You should be grateful. A pretty little thing like you? You’ll fetch a high price.” Another guy said, causing her heart to shiver in fear.
Angela recoiled, bile rising in her throat. This couldn’t be real. This had to be a nightmare.
Then, the unmistakable sound of heavy doors/creaking open sent chills through her body.
Footsteps. Dozens of them. Voices murmuring, excitement humming in the air like a deadly current.
The chains were taken off except for the handcuffs and she was dragged somewhere. A flashing spotlight was on her in an instant causing her to recoil in
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Chapter 3
fear but the girl grip of the man on her arm deterred her movements.
The auction had begun
Angela’s pulse was a frantic drum in her ears. The sound of an auctioneer’s voice rang out, cutting through the air like a blade.
“Gentlemen, we have a rare find tonight! Young, untouched, and blind-
A roar of murmurs followed.
Angel’s stomach churned in raw dread. Tears brimming her eyes. She could feel vile gazes on her making bile rise to her throat as she tried to control her fear.
“She won’t see a thing. Easy to control.” A voice said.
“Perfect for discipline.” Another voice added.
“I’ll start the bidding at fifty thousand.” The auctioneer said.
Angela’s stomach dropped as she listened to the numbers rise. Each bid was another nail in the coffin of her freedorn. Her breath hitched as the sum climbed higher and higher, the frenzy intensifying.
And then-
“One hundred and fifty thousand.”
Silence.
Angela swallowed hard. That voice–it was deep, commanding, laced with a quiet danger. It was familiar.
A flash of memory–cigarette smoke, a heavy coat draped over her shoulders, the phantom warmth of borrowed shoes.
The stranger from the street.
Mr. Volkov.
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Maybe she was hearing things but this man sounded exactly like the guy who had helped her that night.
Someone scoffed. “You? What do you want with her?”
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Mikhail’s voice remained calm, but there was an edge to it. “That’s none of your concern.”
Another man growled. “one hundred and sixty thousand. She’s mine.” A guy sneered.
That guy charged to the stage to grab Angela in pure triumph because he had won her.
A beat of silence. Then-
The sound of a gun being cocked.
A single shot rang out.
Angela flinched, a scream trapped in her throat as the body thudded onto the floor beside her. That guy didn’t even get to touch her as Mikhail shot him.
The air turned to ice. Heavy footsteps approached, deliberate and unhurried.
Then, a strong hand wrapped around her wrist.
“Mine,” Mikhail rasped, his grip firm but not cruel. “She belongs to me now.”
wea, 18 Jun
Chapter 3
Before Angela could comprehend what was happening, she was pulled to her feet, her body too weak to resist. Her mind screamed at her to fight, to run
-but where could she go?
The cuffs were taken off her.
The scent of smoke enveloped her, familiar yet terrifying. And just like that, she was being led away from the auction block, away from one nightmare
and into another.
The girl was trembling. The fire shot was still ringing in her ears. This man just killed someone.
Because no man who killed without hesitation could be her savior.
She was not free.
She had simply been sold to the devil.
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