Chapter Seven
Alessia
I stabbed someone.
The thought clawed at me. I had crossed a line and joined their ranks. Now I carried the stain of blood on my hands. Only a few days into this nightmare, and I had turned into what I feared most. A killer.
The memory played on a loop in my head. I remembered the knife buried in Renat’s stomach, the blood spreading across his shirt like a dark promise. I couldn’t sleep. Each time I closed my eyes, the image forced itself behind my lids, searing into me like a brand.
Renat wasn’t a good man. I knew that. Yet guilt wrapped around me like a noose, tightening with every passing second. Locked in this cold, desolate basement, I had no idea what awaited me. Clara warned me, but I didn’t listen.
Would they kill me?
And Renat... was he dead?
I hated him with everything I had, but I didn’t want this to be true. I didn’t want to be a murderer. He deserved it. He would have taken what wasn’t his, I reminded myself, yet my breath hitched.
Was that enough to justify what I did?
The sound of footsteps broke through my thoughts. My body tensed as the steps grew louder, nearing the door. I scrambled back, pressing myself against the damp wall, my eyes locked on the jiggling knob. My breath came in shallow gasps until the door creaked open.
It wasn’t Renat or Artur, but Matvet, who stepped in. Behind him, an unfamiliar woman followed, carrying a box and a bag.
“You have ten minutes to prepare her,” Matvet said, his voice cold. He glanced at me before turning to the woman. “Get it done.”
And just like that, he was gone.
Confused, I stared at the woman as she approached. She dropped the box on the floor with a thud, opened it, and began unpacking its contents. There were makeup brushes, foundation, eyeshadows, and many others. From the bag, she pulled out two dresses: one white lace, the other blood red.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
She ignored me at first, focused on her task. “Which one do you prefer?” she asked.
“Why?”
“I’m doing my job,” she replied, without looking at me. Her tone carried no sympathy. “You need to be ready in ten minutes. Cooperate, or you’ll regret it.”
“What kind of trouble am I in?” I pressed, my stomach knotting tighter with every word.
Now that she was closer to me, I noticed she was older, probably my mother’s age. But she carried herself with an air of confidence. Her tailored pants and vintage blouse spoke of elegance. And her black hair sat twisted in a perfect bun.
She looked me over, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t worry,” she said, rummaging through her kit. “I’ll take care of the bags under your eyes.”
I flinched as she swiped a cleansing wipe across my face. Her touch was clinical, as though I were some object they’d tasked her to polish.
“Your hair’s decent,” she remarked. “Just a little retouch, and it’ll do.”
“Retouch for what?” I asked, dread pooling in my chest. “Am I leaving here?”
“Yes.”
Her response made my breath hitch, a flicker of hope lighting in the darkness. But before I could hold on to it, she extinguished it.
“No. Not the way you’re thinking,” she said. “You’re being auctioned. But you might get lucky, maybe you will get along with your buyer.”
The word auctioned hit me like a punch to the stomach. Clara was right. This wasn’t an escape. It was another prison, a transfer from one set of chains to another.
My throat tightened as the lump I’d been holding back rose, choking me. I let her finish her work in silence. She styled my hair into an elegant bun and applied makeup to my face with precision. When she was done, she handed me the white lace dress.
I put it on with trembling hands. My reflection in the tiny mirror she pulled out was unrecognizable. The girl staring back at me looked polished and pristine, a porcelain doll dressed for display. But beneath the surface, I was crumbling.
The woman knocked on the door, and Matvet entered. His gaze swept over me, and his eyes lingered for a while.
He didn’t speak, not even when he fastened a blindfold over my eyes.
I didn’t resist. What was the point? Matvet followed orders, nothing more.
His grip on my arm was firm as he guided me out of the room.
I had no sense of direction, no idea where we were going.
The journey stretched on. The hum of the car engine and the occasional crunch of tires on gravel were the only clues that time was passing.
When the car finally stopped, I felt the cold rush of air as the door opened. My shaky hands clutched my knees as though that could ground me. Someone grabbed me, steadying me as they pulled me to my feet.
Low music hummed in the background. Blindfolded, I stumbled. The person leading me was patient, tugging me forward until I could walk on my own.
The blindfold came off as abruptly as it was put on, and I blinked against the dim light, inhaling sharply.
We stood before a guarded door, two men dressed in black suits exchanging silent nods with Matvet.
One of them pushed the heavy door open, releasing a pungent wave of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol.
Inside, the dim lighting cast everything in an eerie half-light.
Velvet sofas lined the walls, each occupied by men who radiated power and danger.
Women draped themselves over them, their faces painted with seduction.
Some swayed to music while others pressed their hands against broad shoulders, murmuring in low voices.
The men looked up as I entered, their eyes piercing through the haze of smoke. I shrank toward Matvet, hoping the dim light would swallow me whole, but their stares burned.
Whistles and murmurs cut through the air, low and predatory.
“Fuck, look at her.”
“Boss, better claim this one.”
“Think she’s worth the fight?”
“Will we get a taste?”
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, the meaning of their words dawning on me. My mind raced. Was I about to be one of those women, an object for their amusement?
At the end of the room, the stage loomed, bathed in soft light. My feet faltered, but Matvet’s iron grip pushed me forward. The voices grew louder, filled with anticipation.
A woman was waiting at the base of the stage, dressed in a sleek black dress that clung to her figure. Without a word, she took my hand and guided me up the steps.
My legs felt weak, trembling as I ascended. The moment I was on the stage, the room fell silent. I could still feel the weight of their stares, especially when the lady thrust me into the spotlight. A single harsh beam followed my every move.
Standing by the side, she took the microphone, and her voice sliced through the silence as she announced.
“The auction will begin shortly.”
Auction? My stomach churned.
I scanned the crowd, the dim light revealing snippets of their faces. One of them held a glass of whiskey, his lips curled into a smirk as he stared at me. He whispered something to the girl on his lap. She looked lifeless, her expression void of anything but exhaustion.
Another man was on the phone. He caught my eye and winked, but the gesture made me nauseous. Further back, a younger man sat with two women clinging to him. His smirk was cruel, but he had Artur’s gray eyes. I thought he was imposing until Artur appeared at the door.
He strode in, his presence charging the air.
Every step he took exuded a power that made every man in here behave.
He sank into the empty sofa, the very sight of him sending a shiver down my spine.
I stepped back instinctively, putting distance between us, though I knew it wouldn’t matter.
He was the worst of them all. His good looks were nothing but a mask for the darkness that roiled beneath.
The woman on the microphone cleared her throat, snapping the room’s attention back to her.
“The auction begins now.”
Of course, they had been waiting for him.
“Alessia Romero,” she began, her tone clinical. “Twenty-three years old, daughter of an Italian banker. A young woman with no connections to protect her and no unpaid debts.”
The audience listened, hungry. I was no longer a person; they reduced my identity to a list of selling points like a commodity.
“Every inch of her is untouched,” she added with cruel finality, and a wave of jeers erupted. “The bidding starts now.”
“Twenty thousand,” someone called, and I flinched as if struck.
The numbers climbed, and each shouted offer felt like another nail in the coffin of my humanity. My chest rose and fell in shallow, panicked gasps.
“Sixty thousand.”
“Seventy.”
The men roared with excitement, and I clutched at my chest. My breath came in shallow gasps. I was being sold. Like cattle. Like property. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to disappear.
“Two hundred thousand going once—”
A commotion erupted at the back of the room. Voices clashed, anger rising in sharp bursts. I dared to open my eyes, but the stage light made it impossible to see.
Artur stood abruptly, his eyes remaining on me for a moment. He said nothing, his cold gaze sweeping the room before he turned and left.
The sight of him leaving, abandoning me to the wolves, was worse than anything I had imagined. The men below continued to fight over me, their voices blurring into a deafening roar.
This was my reality now. I stood there, stripped of hope, my will crumbling under the weight of their desires. And I understood what it meant to be powerless.