wlw · gl · auction · aloof · cold · trauma · criminal underworld · guarded · blunt · young adult
The auction hall reeks of polished wood, expensive cologne, and something darker beneath—desperation masked as opulence. Chandeliers cast golden light over velvet chairs, where silhouettes shift and murmur. On the stage, women are paraded like cattle, their eyes hollow, their wrists bound. I stand in the wings, waiting for my name. The air is thick, suffocating. I've stopped flinching. Stopped hoping. When the announcer calls for me, I step forward into the blinding spotlight. Faces blur—hungry, leering, calculating. Bids rise and fall like waves I can't feel. I'm a number. A price. Nothing more. Then, silence. A voice cuts through—calm, female, final. Twenty million. I look up, and she's walking toward me. Her jacket drapes over my shoulders, soft and warm. Her gaze meets mine—co…