Bidding and Old men

Ava’s POV

The doors opened again, and more men walked in, but this time they looked nothing like Lucien Moretti’s guards. These men were older, dressed in elegant designer suits and long black coats, their faces hidden behind masks. You could feel the air of wealth that came from their presence as they stepped in.

They said nothing as they entered. Instead, they waited until Lucien stepped forward, taking the steps at a time till he got to where we were. Only then did they take their seats in the front row, directly across from us on the stage.

Their masked faces tilted up to observe us, and even though we couldn’t see most of their features, the hunger in their eyes was unmistakable. Every woman on the stage stiffened in fear.

A guard stepped forward, grabbed one of the girls roughly by the forearm, and dragged her toward the edge of the stage. She resisted, pulling her arm away and trying to get him to leave her alone but he didn't stop.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled, struggling, but the guard only leaned close and whispered something in her ear.

Whatever he said made her freeze. Her body went limp, and she stood still, visibly shaken.

She was tall, blonde, pale, with long hair and bruises darkening the skin where the guard had grabbed her. She looked like she was barely holding herself together.

Lucien gave a small nod.

"You may start the bid," he said, his voice holding so much power and darkness.

The masked men raised their placards. Numbers were shouted.

"One hundred million dollars," a wrinkled old man croaked, licking his lips as his eyes roamed over the girl. The moderator slammed the gavel.

"Going once, going twice, going three times… Sold!"

The girl was handed off like property, dragged to sit beside the old man. I watched, stomach churning, as he immediately grabbed her butt with a disgusting smile and squeezed it so hard that she flinched and winced, blinking back tears.

I clenched my fists behind my back. My heart pounded, but I didn’t move. One wrong step and I'd be next.

The auction continued. One girl after the other was sold off to the highest bidder, most of them trying to hold back tears, some failing entirely. No one fought back. They all just accepted it.

Lucien kept looking at us once in a while and although the other girls would look away, I stared back at him head on and with each frown that crossed his face when it happened, he wasn't happy about it but I didn't care. Not one bit.

Things went on for a while till we were down to three when a young girl was dragged forward. She couldn’t have been older than nineteen. Her eyes were wide with fear, and a gash bled freely along her leg.

She could barely walk. One of the guards held her up.

"Starting at fifty thousand dollars," the moderator announced.

But no one raised a placard.

Lucien took a step forward, watching her. She was trembling uncontrollably. I expected him to show disdain, but his face remained blank.

He reached out and tilted her chin up with his gloved fingers. She flinched, and a tear slid down her cheek.

"I guess no one wants you," he said, then turned to one of his guards. "Kill her."

The words hit like a bullet.

What?

I saw the gun being raised. The girl started sobbing harder.

"No!" I yelled, the word tearing out of me before I could stop it.

Everything paused.

Every masked man, every guard, every slave... and Lucien himself turned toward me.

His eyes locked onto mine, and the chill I felt was bone-deep.

"Why would you want to kill her?" I demanded, voice shaking but strong. "This is wrong."

Lucien's gaze narrowed dangerously. He stepped down from his platform and crossed the floor in steady, quiet strides. It was like watching a predator approach its prey.

"She’s just a young girl. You kidnapped her, injured her, tried to sell her, and now you want to kill her just because no one bid? That makes you a monster."

In one brutal motion, Lucien was in front of me. He grabbed my throat, lifting me slightly off the ground. My tied hands kept me from fighting back as I struggled to breathe.

His grey eyes bore into mine, cold and filled with rage.

"You do not speak unless I say so," he growled. "You do not challenge me. You do not correct me. You are mine. She is mine. I do as I please."

But something flickered behind his fury.

Curiosity.

Amusement.

Like he didn’t expect me to speak... and didn’t quite know what to do now that I had.

"F...fuck you," I forced out.

His eyes widened in surprise, then darkened even more. He shoved me backward, hard. I stumbled and hit the floor, coughing violently, gasping for air.

Silence. Thick and heavy.

Everyone in the room looked between us.

Lucien didn’t look away. His chest rose and fell slowly as if trying to rein in something dangerous.

Then he turned his head toward the guard. "Take her to a room. Keep her there."

The injured girl was gently lifted by two guards and escorted out of the room. For a second, her eyes met mine. Grateful. Confused. Terrified.

The masked men said nothing. Some looked annoyed, others intrigued. But no one dared interrupt.

Lucien stepped back, his stare never leaving me.

Something had shifted.

In him. In me. In this entire fucked-up hierarchy.

He saw me now. Not just as another girl to be sold or killed, but as something else. A threat? A challenge?

Maybe both.

And I knew then, as they dragged me upright and forced me to my feet, that I was in trouble and might have started off a terrible game involving my life

And Lucien Moretti from the looks of it definitely didn’t like to lose.

He walked towards me once more and gripped my chin tightly.

“What is your name?” he asked

“Clara.” I lied