“And now, gentlemen, our final lot of the evening. A rare find. Strong-willed. A fighter.”
The curtains part.
And my world stops.
A voice cuts through the hush—low, eager, meant only for the man beside him.
“That’s the one I told you about,” he mutters. “She had fire in her. Real fire. Haven’t seen that in a long time. A true fighter.”
I clock his face.
Memorise it.
It won’t be around much longer.
My fists clench in my lap, nails digging into my palms as I fight to keep still. Rage simmers just beneath the surface, begging to be unleashed. But I don’t move. I can’t—not yet.
My eyes stay locked on the girl in the centre of the stage.
Nell.
It’s her.
But it’s not.
She’s bruised, her skin mottled with fingerprints and pain. Her movements are sluggish, unsteady—drugged. She sways on her feet, barely upright, and when the handler yanks her forward, she collapses to her knees.
My heart stops.
There’s no fire in her eyes now. Just a dull, vacant haze. Like the light’s been drained from her.
I want to run to her. Tear through the crowd. Kill every man in this room and carry her out myself.
But I can’t. Not yet.
I have enough currency to outbid every bastard here. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
The plan has changed.
This isn’t an extraction anymore.
It’s a bidding war.
If I play this right, I can get her out and keep my cover intact—long enough to finish what I started. Long enough to burn this whole operation to the ground.
But as I watch her sway on that stage, barely conscious, I feel the fear creep in.
Not for me.
For her.
I’ve seen what happens to girls who survive these rings. The ones who make it out with their bodies intact, but not their minds. The ones who don’t make it past the memories and horrors.
But that won’t be Nell.
I won’t let it be.
I’ll bring her back.
