The harsh clamp of metal on metal startled me as the platform I stood on jolted into motion. Two silhouettes, masked and cloaked in shadows, emerged to wheel me away from the stage. The auctioneer's oily and smug voice slithered through the air like a serpent. "Ladies and gentlemen, please proceed to finalize your transactions with our esteemed accountants. Your acquisitions will be prepared for departure forthwith."
As we navigated through the crowd of masked figures whose whispers fluttered around me like dark moths, I couldn't shake the feeling of dread coiling in my stomach. The men steering me were different from those who had presented me to this pit of vipers. Their broader shoulders and more muscular builds set them apart, and there was something familiar about the way they carried themselves.
Could it be...? No, I chastised myself, clinging to the remnants of logic amidst the chaos. Focus, Samara. Observations could mean the difference between captivity and freedom.I turned my head in every direction as we navigated through the corridors, hoping to spot an escape route."Where are you taking me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. The men remained silent, their faces hidden behind the masks.The backroom loomed ahead, its door ajar, spilling soft light into the dim hallway. The familiar scent of makeup and hairspray wafted from the room, laced with the underlying tang of fear—my own, no doubt. The door creaked open, and Madame's silhouette pirouetted through the threshold. Her face was alight with a grotesque mirth that set my skin crawling. She waltzed toward me as they wheeled me into the room, her hands outstretched like talons, poised to caress an exquisite vase."Oh my dear," she crooned, her fingers tracing the contours of my cheek, "You have exceeded my grandest expectations. Still, it is a pity to see you go. A prize such as yourself... Why, I'd forsake all others in my possession for the privilege of owning you."
Her eyes, gleaming with the enthusiasm of avarice, locked onto mine. " Remember, darling, compliance will be your salvation. Do not resist your new master. You must remain unmarred, undamaged, and you may yet draw breath longer than most."
I swallowed hard, her words slithering around me like chains.
"Beauty is fleeting, especially here," she hissed, her tone darkening. "Should it fade or bore him... well, I would loathe to witness such a waste."
Before I could muster any semblance of a response, her lips pressed against mine. I recoiled instinctively, twisting my face away. I was thrown off balance, and I teetered on the edge of a steep fall from the platform.
Strong arms steadied me and repositioned me upright. The masked man's grip was firm yet inexplicably cautious and gentle. As he released me, I noticed the tense cords of his forearms and his hands balling into fists at his sides.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely a thread in the heavy air between us. I searched his masked visage for some clue, some hint of recognition, but found none.
The Madame's nails traced her own mouth with an unnerving tenderness, a stark contrast to the disgust roiling within me.
"Rules exist for a reason," she purred, eyes glinting with a mix of defiance and desire. "But some temptations are too potent to ignore. You understand, don't you, my dear?"
I could only glare in silent abhorrence as she motioned to the two men at my side. "Place her on the chaise and guard the door. Her allure is bound to tempt others."
With begrudging compliance, they lifted me, their touch deceptively gentle, and settled me onto the plush couch. I felt like a prized sculpture being positioned for display. The Madame lingered a moment longer, her gaze lingering on me with a pride that made my skin crawl before she turned on her heel and exited the room, flanked by her henchmen.
The lock clicked in place, and I was alone at last. I wasted no time wrestling against the unseen shackles binding me. My wrists twisted and strained, but the ethereal chains held fast.
"Stupid magical restraints," I hissed under my breath, cursing my lack of foresight. The Aster library had been a veritable temple of arcane knowledge. Yet, I'd squandered my opportunity to learn, burying myself in dusty tomes on history rather than the spells that could have freed me now.
Closing my eyes, I sought the ember of power from which I had unwittingly summoned a blaze of sunlight that seared my attackers into oblivion. I concentrated until my head throbbed, but nothing stirred within me—not even a flicker of warmth.
And the harder I focused, the more acutely I felt the void where that mysterious energy should have been. Despair crept along the edges of my resolve, whispering that perhaps there would be no miraculous surge of power to save me this time.
The very thought of Count Houndly's clammy hands on me curdled my blood, yet the cruel reality was that my freedom might only come through a transfer into his hands. As disgusting as the plan was, it sparked a flicker of hope in the darkness that had become my world.
A metallic click shattered my brooding thoughts. Panic clawed at my chest, constricting my breath.
This was it—the moment of my relinquishment to the loathsome Count.
One of the masked men stepped into the room, his silhouette outlined by the dim corridor light. His companion remained stationed by the door.
The first man approached with a purposeful stride, and my heart raced as his gloved hands reached for mine. His touch radiated a surge of warmth, and suddenly, a brilliant blue glow encircled our wrists. There was a sound like ice fracturing, and the magical restraints that bound my hands vanished into nothingness.
The man then knelt before me, his focus intent on my ankles. As his hands clasped around the invisible fetters, the warm blue light returned, and with another resolute snap, my feet were freed.
I flexed my wrists and ankles, relishing the unfamiliar ease of movement. Though the specter of Count Houndly's possession still loomed large, I now possessed something far more vital—agency.
Were these men friends of Mikhail? But before I could ask that question, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching.
We all turned as one to the door, where the young man who had earlier been a mere carrier of ledgers now stood, his gaze flickering over us with a sense of urgency. He seemed too mundane, too ordinary to be part of this night's dark theatre, and yet here he was, an actor on the same twisted stage.
"Good," he breathed out, relief evident in his tone. "Her restraints are off. Madame has trackers in those. It'll only be a matter of time before they notice and come for her. We must get her to Lord Vareth out back before they start searching."
Lord Vareth?
"Where the hell did Count Houndly get 750,000 to pay?" The young man's voice broke through my reverie, laced with suspicion. He paced a few steps, hands running through his hair. "That man's wealth isn't in coin; it's in influence, in being the iron fist of Aeloria. Someone must be backing him... someone with deep pockets."
He paused before pinning me with a hard stare as if I held the answer.
"With how Duke Aster seems to look the other way with all of Houndly's dealings... It wouldn't surprise me if the duke himself is behind it. Never thought he was as noble as high society paints him, just because he has won a few battles."
Duke Aster? Mikhail's name on this man's lips felt like a betrayal, a wound still fresh and uncomprehending. How could Mikhail, with his cold silver eyes that held the world at bay, be entwined with a creature like Houndly?
"Get up, now!" The young man's voice sliced through the tension, his annoyance palpable as his gaze locked onto mine. "Unless you fancy being Count Houndly's next plaything, I suggest you move."
I hesitated for a split second, but the urgency in his tone propelled me to my feet. I would figure out how to use this moment of chaos to slip away from here.
As I reached the threshold of the door, the masked man who had stood guard extended a robe to me. I gratefully took it, even though I was being led to another buyer. I didn't want to stand the gawking from whoever we encountered.
With a deep breath, I followed them, one masked man and the young man leading the way while another walked closely behind me. Our footsteps echo softly against the stone floor, the only sound in the otherwise hushed corridors.
We reached the top of a staircase, and beyond it was another corridor. No candles lit this passage, only shafts of moonlight filtering through the curtains. This was it—the perfect setting for my escape. The lead masked man descended first, his silhouette blending with the darkness. He waved us down.
My heart was pounding. I took a step down, then another, and as I did, I faked a misstep. I let out a small cry as my body lurched awkwardly forward, threatening a hard stumble.
The masked man behind me reacted instantly, lunging toward me, his hands reaching out to steady me.
Channeling every ounce of desperation, I used his momentum and grabbed his arm, shoving him past me and sent him careening into the young man ahead. Both men tumbled down the stairs like a cascade of dominoes.
I clung to the handrail, steadying myself just enough to avoid joining their descent. With a sharp turn, I sprinted back up the stairs and headed straight for the unlit hallway.
Behind me, the clatter of bodies hitting each step faded, replaced by the thunderous beat of my own heart.
Panting, I darted through the shadowed corridor, grateful for the dim light that filtered in from the windows. My eyes, accustomed now to the darkness, picked out the faint outlines of antique tables and velvet draperies just in time for me to swerve past them. Even with this head start, the echo of footsteps behind me grew louder. Insistent.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw him. His silhouette was crowned with an aura of blue, reaching out toward me with predatory certainty. The blue light emanating from his hand pulsed with magic, a beacon of my impending capture. With renewed urgency, I forced my legs to pump harder, my lungs burning.
Then, without warning, a sphere of azure energy whizzed by my right side, barely missing me. It crashed into the wall ahead, exploding into a shower of ethereal sparkles that cast the hallway in a fleeting, otherworldly glow. That luminous burst allowed me to narrowly avoid a collision with the illuminated wall.
The chase is unrelenting. But I know I can't outrun him.
In an instant, I drop to my knees, skidding across the cool marble floor, my hands bracing against the impact. He's too close, and the momentum of his pursuit too great. With no room to halt, he launches himself over me, turning his own potential stumble into an acrobatic vault. Much more graceful than his fall down the stairs.
He landed in a crouch mere feet away, and for a heartbeat, we were statues in a silent gallery.
Sweat beaded along my brow, my every muscle coiled and ready. I was both prey and contender, unwilling to yield. The soft glow of his magic cast shadows over his masked face, but it was the gleam of determination in his eyes that genuinely unsettled me.
My breaths came in sharp, ragged pulls, the thud of my heart a drumbeat in the tense silence that followed his acrobatic feat. I had not anticipated such agility from him.
The realization that escape was no longer an option settled over me like a shroud. With a slow, resigned exhale, I straightened up and lifted my hands in surrender.
"Okay," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "You've got me."
I watched him cautiously, noting how he balanced on the balls of his feet as he stood up. Every line of his body spoke of controlled power, and despite the circumstances, I couldn't help but admire the grace with which he held himself. This same grace threatened to unmake me now.
As he advanced, a steely resolve coursed through my veins. I couldn't go down without a fight—not when every instinct screamed for freedom. Closer and closer he came, his eyes fixed on mine, glowing with triumph behind the mask.
Now.
With a speed born of desperation, I lashed out, my leg shooting forward. The kick landed with a satisfying thud against his groin, and his cry pierced the quiet corridor. He collapsed to his knees.
"Lo siento," I breathed out, but I was not sorry for having to use such a desperate measure.
The echo of footsteps snapped me back to reality—either his allies approaching or someone alerted to my escape. I darted along the corridor, frantically trying each door until, finally, one turned beneath my desperate grip. I pushed it open, yearning for a few moments of refuge to gather my thoughts and plot my next move. But the sight that greeted me froze my blood—a hooded figure loomed directly ahead, seizing my wrist with an icy grasp.
A shrill scream tore from my throat, reverberating down the empty passage.