Chapter 3

My breath hitched and, for the first time since I got here, my heart skipped a beat and shivers ran down my spine. I shook my head slightly, determined not to allow fear to radiate through me. Looking down at the gown, I realized its intended purpose.

Oh, goddess. This can't be happening. I can't run from my pack, successfully escaping my pack and abusive step-parents, only to end up in the most wretched place possible.

I needed no one to tell me this was The Blackhaw Pack, the pack all rogues always made sure to avoid.

Everyone knows their alpha, a cold-blooded beast that would capture anyone he considers prey and sell them off to mafia alphas that use them as slaves, particularly as sex slaves. The brave and belligerent are often used for other criminal purposes, such as robbery and assassination. I hate to think that I have discovered where my fate lies.

Escaping my pack and step-parents behind was not a decision I would ever regret, as I had been treated as a slave there as well, so what's the point of regret?

The sound of boisterous laughter echoed throughout the grand hall, causing me to snap out of my thoughts. Deep voices reverberated across the room as the men present guffawed and made crude comments. I lifted my gaze and saw one of the girls at the front of the stage, poised and ready for bidding; the same one who had offered to brush my hair earlier. She was visibly trembling, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, and her eyes fixed on the floor.

The men's laughter grew louder as they noticed her fear. What is this? These mature men behaving like high school kids? I couldn't help but feel disgusted by their juvenile behavior.

She turned to look at us, her eyes mirroring fear as tears brimmed around them. This is illegal; we needed someone to fight for us. They can't just keep capturing rogues and selling them off like some sort of commodity. Worst of all, no one found it bad or illegal. They think rogues deserve this. We deserve a home. We wouldn't reject a pack just to come live a risky life, where we're prone to dangers without a reason.

I shook my head in despair, knowing that we were powerless in this situation as the bidding began. The noise level in the room reached a crescendo, drowning out the girl's sobs, as the men yet couldn't keep their filthy remarks to themselves. Despite her visible terror, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at her weakness. I wish I could tell her now's not the time to cry. She needs to be brave and face whatever life throws at her and work towards getting a better life.

I will never be weak. I knew this would happen when I chose to leave my pack, and the memories that came with it; not like they were all good memories, though. I knew whatever I'd face as a rogue wouldn't be as bad as what I faced in the pack. Which is why I would be strong and make sure I have my life back; The sweet, happy life I've always dreamed of. I might probably get a pack again, but I wouldn't expect to be loved by all. As an omega, the lowest rank of wolves, I definitely shouldn't expect respect, but at least I wouldn't be treated as a slave by anyone. I would not live by orders.

The girls before me were auctioned and sold pretty fast, and in no time, it was my turn. I moved to the front, keeping my head up high. Making sure that whoever would buy me should get the hint that I ain't a weak girl.

They began making their prices, and the bidding process seemed to last longer than ever, with the hall being unusually quieter than before, as they all had serious looks on their faces. The numbers began to rise, surpassing my expectations. I nearly cringed at the thought that they all wanted to have me. Was it because of my courage? I should’ve probably kept that hidden because I knew for sure that the cruelest alphas were often the richest, so I braced myself for what was to come.

"Ten million dollars." It wasn’t easy concealing my surprise as the numbers kept climbing higher. I was about to be sold, for heaven’s sake! These numbers weren’t supposed to be of concern to me, they were supposed to generate a feeling of dread. But here I was, feeling a bit of pride that I was worth much more than expected or what my stepparents had always spat in my face; an ugly freak that no one would ever want, even for free.

"Thirteen million dollars." The hall went dead silent when a man with a rough, intimidating face made his bid with his eyes fixed intensely on me; his dirty brown beards making me recoil in disgust.

"Is that all? No one is challenging?" The man standing beside me on the stage asked. "Okay, going once! Going twice!-"

"Twenty million dollars," A voice interrupted the auctioneer, and I looked between the crowd, trying to find the face of the cold, deep, yet alluring voice that spoke.

He was seated in the middle of the room, a bottle of tequila in his hands. His piercing blue eyes boring into mine.

"Huh?" The auctioneer and the audience were equally shocked by the astronomical bid. Who would ever want to pay such an amount of money?

"Twenty million dollars." He repeated, with his brows quirked at me in a manner I did not understand but mysteriously made my heart skip a beat.

"Well, I guess it's sold then." I didn't pay attention to the stage man anymore, but to the blue-eyed devil sitting dominantly in the middle of the room, whom I'd probably refer to as my new owner.

He didn’t take his eyes away but kept them fixated on me, trying to assert dominance. Funny, he thought his alpha command would work on me. He doesn’t own me yet, he’s not my alpha, and even if he is, I would try as much as possible to resist. With a roll of my eyes, while allowing the corner of my lips to stretch into a small smile, I finally averted my gaze from him. I wanted to let him know his efforts were in vain—make him feel stupid for even trying.

Walking off the stage, I kept my head up high as I was led to a room where he'd probably come to get me. Little did he know that he just bought a problem.