SKYLAR

The last thing I remember is dying.

My eyes flutter open, wincing at the piercing sunlight. The salty air is blazing hot. And wrong.

“How much will a filthy Omega like this one fetch,” a voice says, and as I snap my head towards it, I’m held back by the chains binding my wrist to the horizontal post above.

I look up again, rattling the chains as I yank at them. Who the fuck dared to imprison me?

The memory of Zade’s blade plunging into my stomach hits like a trainwreck, and my eyes screw tight. A tear slowly rolls down my cheek.

I was declared barren years ago, and aside from my Omega status, pack wolves found yet another reason to avoid me. Our baby was a miracle, a cryptic pregnancy as the pack doctor had called it. And Zade… destroyed our child with his blade. Destroyed me.

“If you think crying will get my attention, I beg of you to be more unique.”

I raise my head, daring to look at who’s blocking off the sun from me. He’s so tall, his hair so black, and his eyes so blue they remind me of glaciers. I shut my mouth after moments pass.

He seems to realize how close he’s standing and draws back a step. The second he moves, I glance around, and a gasp tears out of me, deceptively soft.

Alphas. Almost every pack color in existence is here, but I don’t see Zade amongst them. I glance sideways quickly, realizing now that the post extends far down. I’m not the only one chained up. My heartbeat spikes. Why is this place familiar?

“I wasn’t trying to get your attention,” I mumble, dread gnawing in my stomach as the wheels in my head spin faster.

“Really?” he says. “I don’t believe you.”

“Please… just leave me alone.”

He frowns. “Do you even know where you are?” He tilts his head slightly.

Memories from the last time I came here with my father rush back to me. We had taken a boat, dropped off on a mysterious Island, and found the arena. But I was with the crowd, not chained up like now.

However, Omega wolves are rare. Rarest even in the Storm pack, but weak. This is where my kind are caught and sold to Alphas, so they can make us work for them.

“I guess not.” His gaze narrows. “This is the Slave Row. If you don’t get picked today, you will die.”

The Slave Row is law. And he’s not wrong. I will be killed if neither of these Alphas find me worthy of living.

“But I can’t imagine you’ll attract anyone looking like that. Should have considered a shower before coming,” he stifles a grin, arms folded over his chest arrogantly.

I fight the urge to look down, staring at the dried blood on my dress. It’s the same one I was wearing when I died. But how long has it even been? My head hurts from the terrible gap in transmission. I can't remember a single thing after being stabbed.

“And yet, here you are,” I tell him instead.

“I like to have a closer look before I make my choices.”

“Buy me, then. Maybe I’ll do everything you ask.”

“Everything?” he leans in, eyes burning into mine. “Are you sure about that, Omega?”

“It’s Storm Alpha to you!” I snap, breaths suddenly ragged. “My father was the great Alpha Destan of the Storm pack. I’m his heir! A priceless gem you should even be honored to possess.”

He dares laugh, and anger twists inside me like vines.

“If that’s the case, then the Alphas should be able to see how priceless you are. Don’t you agree?”

“No—wait,” I stammer when he departs from my post.

I glance sideways again, wondering if screaming like a mad woman to get his attention will favour me in the eyes of others. My lips purse tightly with the answer.

Ripples move through the crowd, and I glimpse an imposing man in a tux headed for the raised platform at the center of the arena. A burst of static from the mic in his hand brings order to the space.

“Alphas! Welcome to the annual Slave Row auction. A tradition that has been upheld by our realm for centuries. You know the rules. The highest bidders take home a slave. Begin!” he glances at his stopwatch, starting a countdown.

My father once told me that the Moon Goddess created the Slave Row. A sign that Omegas are born to serve the higher wolf ranks. Participation is mandatory. A way to earn her favour, even.

But I‘ve never understood the cruelty behind this law. Why would the moon goddess deliberately plant division amongst her people? Isn’t harmony what she should seek?

The air feels wrong because this is wrong. These Omegas didn’t have the luxury of living as an Alpha’s daughter, or the luxury of choice. They were born only to end up here.

Numbers fly from all directions. Omegas are selling faster than I can breathe. After a few minutes, I’m still in chains. Reality painfully dawns on me. I am worthless now.

“Thank you, Alphas, for your generous participation. The Slave Row will now be adjourned until the next calendar year!”

My heart stutters, fear quickly sinking in. I was not chosen. I’m going to die again.

“Twenty million dollars!”

The entire arena comes to a standstill. Jaws drop. Gasps roll. That’s easily the highest bid to ever be recorded in the Slave Row. Who was that?

“Number, please?” The coordinator asks.

And a wave of shock rips through me when the arrogant man that spoke to me earlier replies, “One.”

A beat of silence.

“Prince… Dariel?” the coordinator's voice falters as he glances down at the tablet in his hand, fingers trembling. “Which Omega do you want?”

“Her.”

My heart pounds faster as the crowd gasps again, hushed whispers rising. He’s pointing at me.

A prince? We don’t have princes in the werewolf realm. My breath catches. I realize who I’m looking at almost immediately. Lunari, the realm of Lycans, is ruled by royalty. And he’s one of them. But it’s a long way from home, and if there’s one thing his kind absolutely hates, it’s mingling with ours. Yet he’s here.

My gut tells me… there’s more to that twenty million.