Rurik
The warehouse reeks of expensive cigars and desperation. I stand near the back of the room with Artur on my left and Eduard on my right, watching the stage with carefully controlled disgust.
The auction has been running for two hours now, and every woman brought out so far looks terrified, their eyes wide as they look around.
None of them are what we’re looking for, but then again we had to be desperate to come to the bride auction to try and find her. The one woman who would fit perfectly into our families.
“This is a waste of time,” Artur mutters beside me, his dark eyes scanning the crowd of buyers with barely concealed contempt. “We should leave.”
Eduard shifts his weight, arms crossed over his chest. “Give it another hour. Our contact said there was someone different coming tonight.”
I say nothing. My jaw is tight as I watch another terrified woman being led off the stage after being sold to a Baltic trafficker I recognize. The man is known for his cruelty.
The woman will not survive a year in his possession.
We shouldn’t be here. None of us should. But the three of us have spent years preparing for this moment, searching for one specific woman. She needs to be strong.
Resilient.
Someone capable of surviving not just the world we live in but the three of us. A woman who can stand beside us without breaking.
The women paraded across this stage tonight have all been broken already. Hollow-eyed and compliant. Not at all what we were looking for.
Our contact swore tonight would be different. That someone special was coming.
Eduard, Artur, and I practically grew up together. The three of us were inseparable. Until our fathers had a falling out and we were forbidden to see each other.
But that didn’t stop us.
We still found ways to hang out, which wasn’t easy considering all three of our fathers were pakhans of our families.
I was twenty-two when my father died in the shootout that also killed Artur’s and Eduard’s fathers. The night we stood over their graves, we made a promise.
We would rebuild what our fathers destroyed. We would unite the three families again, stronger than before.
And we would do it the right way. Through a shared wife who would help us unite our three families.
We’ve been looking for years, with no luck. So, we decided to try this bride auction.
We’ve never been a fan of the auction and this is the first time any of us have been to it.
It’s a desperate attempt to find that one special woman, and it doesn’t look like this hairbrained idea was going to work either.
“Next offering,” the auctioneer announces, his voice booming through the speakers. “This one is special, gentlemen. Very special.”
I straighten slightly, my attention sharpening as movement stirs near the stage entrance.
Two handlers drag a woman forward. Even from this distance, I can see she is different. She is not crying. She is not begging.
She is fighting.
The handlers struggle to control her as they force her onto the stage. Heavy shackles circle her wrists and ankles, connected by short chains that rattle with every movement.
Her long dark hair hangs in waves around her face, partially obscuring her features, but I catch a glimpse of sharp gray-green eyes that blaze with fury.
The auctioneer continues. “Twenty-six years old. American...”
My entire focus narrows on the woman kneeling on the stage. There’s something about the way she moves, the raw power in every gesture, even while restrained.
She’s not just angry.
She’s unbroken. Where other women have surrendered to their circumstances, she burns with a fury that refuses to be extinguished. I shift with excitement.
Beside me, Artur leans forward slightly. “Look at her.”
“I see her,” Eduard says quietly.
The handler holding her chain yanks it hard, trying to force her head down in a show of submission for the buyers.
The woman’s response is immediate and brutal. She surges to her feet despite the short chains and drives her fist directly into the man’s face.
Bone crunches.
Blood sprays across the stage. The handler drops like a stone.
The entire warehouse erupts. Some men laugh. Others shout encouragement. A few lean forward with renewed interest, clearly intrigued by the display of violence.
I watch with respect and a bit of amusement as the woman stands in the center of the stage, breathing hard, her hands still shackled but her head held high. She scans the crowd with those sharp eyes, and I know exactly what she is doing. Planning her next move.
She is magnificent.
I glance at Artur. His expression mirrors what I am thinking. The crooked grin spreading across his face tells me he sees it too. Strength and fire, everything we said our wife would need to survive in our world.
Eduard meets my gaze from my other side and nods once. We all agree silently. This is the woman we have been searching for.
The auctioneer recovers quickly from the disruption, gesturing for another handler to secure the woman while the injured man is dragged offstage. “As you can see, gentlemen, this one has spirit. She will require a firm hand. But for the right buyer, she will be worth every dollar.”
He pauses, letting the tension build.
“Bidding starts at five hundred thousand dollars.”
The room explodes with activity. Hands shoot up. Voices call out bids in multiple languages.
Within seconds, the price climbs to seven hundred thousand. Then eight hundred.
The woman remains on the stage, her expression cold and calculating as she watches the chaos unfold around her.
A voice from the front row shouts a bid of one million dollars. I recognize the buyer. Aleksander Volkov’s lieutenant. If Volkov wants her, it’s bad news for the woman. Volkov is a different kind of dangerous.
I raise my hand calmly. “Two million.”
The room goes quiet for a heartbeat. Then the bidding resumes with renewed aggression.
Volkov’s man counters immediately. Another buyer from a rival syndicate joins in. The price climbs rapidly.
Artur shifts beside me, his hand resting casually near the weapon concealed beneath his jacket. “How high are we going?”
“As high as necessary,” I reply without looking at him.
Eduard pulls out his phone and begins transferring funds into the account we set up for tonight. “We have the resources. The question is whether we want to make that many enemies in one night.”
“We already have enemies,” I say flatly. “What matters is leaving here with her.”
The bidding reaches three million. Then four. Several buyers drop out, unable or unwilling to match the escalating price. Volkov’s lieutenant remains aggressive, clearly operating under orders to secure the woman at any cost.
I wait until he places his next bid. Five million dollars.
Then I double it.
“Ten million,” I announce clearly, my voice cutting through the noise.
The warehouse falls silent. Every head turns toward the back of the room where we stand. I meet the stares without flinching, my expression calm and controlled. Beside me, Artur grins like a wolf, while Eduard remains perfectly still, his gray eyes cold and assessing.
The auctioneer recovers first. “Ten million dollars. Do I hear eleven?”
Silence.
Volkov’s lieutenant glances toward the exit, clearly communicating with someone outside. After a long moment, he shakes his head and steps back.
No one else moves.
“Ten million going once,” the auctioneer calls. “Going twice.” He pauses dramatically. “Sold!”
The room erupts again, but this time the energy is different, wary and calculating.
We just made a very public statement about how much we value this woman, and every criminal in this warehouse will remember it.
We move forward through the crowd as handlers prepare to transfer custody. Men step aside as we approach, their expressions ranging from curiosity to hostility. I ignore them all. My attention remains fixed on the woman kneeling on the stage.
Up close, she is even more striking than I realized. Her face is bruised from whatever fight preceded her arrival here, and dried blood stains the corner of her mouth.
But her eyes are clear and sharp, tracking our approach with the focused intensity of a predator evaluating threats.
The handler holding her chain tries to pass it to me. I take it but immediately drop the length of metal to the floor. The woman’s eyes narrow slightly at the gesture, though her expression does not change.
“Can you walk?” I ask in English.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she rises to her feet with surprising grace despite the shackles, her movements controlled and deliberate.
Eduard steps forward and produces a key, unlocking the chains around her ankles first then reaching for her wrists.
The moment her hands are free, she moves. Her elbow drives toward Eduard’s ribs, but he blocks it smoothly and steps back, giving her space. Artur moves to intercept, but I raise my hand, stopping him.
“Let her breathe,” I say quietly.
The woman stands between us, her hands flexing as circulation returns to her wrists.
She looks at each of us in turn, her gaze lingering on my face last.
When she speaks, her voice is low and cold, carrying the weight of absolute conviction.
“I will destroy every one of you.”
The promise hangs in the air between us, sharp and dangerous.
I meet her eyes steadily, seeing the fury and determination burning there. Most men would be intimidated. Most men would respond with threats or violence to reassert control.
I simply nod once, acknowledging her words.
Then I gesture toward the exit. “We should leave. This place is not safe for any of us.”
She does not move immediately. Her gaze sweeps across the warehouse one final time, memorizing faces and details the way I knew she would.
When she finally turns toward the exit, she walks ahead of us rather than beside us, her spine straight and her head high despite everything she has endured tonight.
Artur falls into step on her left. Eduard moves to her right. I follow slightly behind, watching the room for threats as we make our way toward the door.
As I watch her walk through the crowd of criminals with fearless defiance, I realize something important.
We may have purchased her tonight, but claiming her will be an entirely different battle.