"Soon," Bane promises through the comm. "They all go free tonight."
The poor guy sells for an obscene amount to some corporate-looking asshole who's already loosening his tie like he can't wait to get started. I memorize his face. He's not walking out of here tonight. None of them are.
More omegas are paraded out like cattle. Each one makes my chest ache, makes that familiar rage build higher. A girl who can't be old enough to drink, trembling so hard she can barely stand. Twins who've clearly been kept together as a "matched set" for some sick fuck's fantasy. An older omega who's probably been through this so many times he's gone completely dead behind the eyes.
Each sale is another name on my kill list. Every smug smile, every casual bid on a human life, every fucking champagne toast, they're all signing their death warrants.
"Get ready," Felix's voice cuts through the comm, tense but controlled. "Juniper's up next."
My entire body goes rigid. I lean forward, hands gripping the balcony rail so hard the wood creaks. The backstage door opens, and my breath catches in my throat.
She looks nothing like herself.
The pink silk dress makes her look merely fragile, instead of the force of nature who dropped a chandelier on Bane'shead without breaking a sweat, and somehow simultaneously manages to be delicate. Bent but never broken. Her head is down, shoulders curved inward in submission, every line of her body screaming “victim” instead of “predator.”
It's an act. Iknowit's an act. She's probably got at least three weapons hidden under that dress and a mental catalog of thirty-seven ways to kill everyone in this room. But seeing her like this, seeing her play the part of everything she fought to escape...
My chest fucking aches.
Because she wasn't always acting. Once upon a time, this was her reality. Some piece of shit put her on a stage like this, or in a room, or in a cage, and treated her like property. Made her feel like she was nothing more than her designation, nothing more than what she could provide to whatever alpha had enough money.
The auctioneer starts his spiel, and I want to jump down there and rip his tongue out through his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, a truly special offering. Beautiful, unmated, excellent breeding potential..."
Breeding potential. Like she's fucking livestock.
"—docile temperament, trained in domestic services..."
Docile. Juniper. The same woman who threatened to use someone's intestines as a jump rope is being described as docile.
"—starting bid at two million."
I'll tear his fucking windpipe out and shove it?—
The numbers start flying immediately. These sick fucks recognize perfection when they see it, even if they have no fucking clue what they're really looking at. They see the perfect omega. Beautiful, seemingly broken, everything their twisted fantasies demand. They don't see the killer underneath. They don't see the woman who survived hell and came out the other side with her middle fingers raised.
"Status report," I manage through gritted teeth.
"I'm fine," Felix says immediately, and there's something protective in his tone that makes me believe him. "She's playing her part perfectly. No signs of distress except the ones she wants the crowd to buy."
Of course she is. Juniper's a better actor than any of us give her credit for. She had to be, to survive what she survived. But that doesn't make it easier to watch.
"In position at the north entrance," Elias reports. "No suspicious movement."
"South entrance secure," Bane adds. "Crowd seems focused on the... merchandise."
"Charming," Carlisle's voice drips sarcasm through the comm. "I'm mingling with our esteemed guests. You'd be amazed how much these people will say when they think you're one of them. Apparently, there's an after-party where the 'real' business happens just begging to be burned down."
"Copy that," I acknowledge, scanning the crowd for threats even as my eyes keep drifting back to Juniper on stage.
The bidding has hit five million. Then seven. Then ten.
"Carlisle," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "You better fucking win this."
"Oh right," he says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. "I almost forgot why I'm here. How silly of me."
"Carlisle—"
"Relax, Viper. Our girl isn't going home with anyone but us."
