Chapter 3, Aria
The wind on the plains was usually a silent companion, a whisper that carried the scent of rain and dust. But today, it carried something else. A scent that was sharp, metallic, and undeniably predatory.
Aria was in the barn, her back turned to the open door, when she heard it.
Not the snap of a twig, but the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots on packed earth.
She froze, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She spun around, her hand instinctively going to the pitchfork leaning against the hay bale.
Three men stepped into the sliver of light falling through the doorway.
They weren’t farmer. They wore leather armor reinforced with metal plates, and their eyes were a flat, predatory yellow that glowed with an unnatural intensity in the dim light.
They were lower-ranking shifters, likely scouts or enforcers from one of the nearby packs, but their presence was enough to make the hair on Aria’s arms stand on end.
They hadn’t meant to find her. The Miller farm was too remote, too hidden. But luck, or fate, had turned against them. They had scented a strange, sweet fragrance on the wind, the musk of a human female who hadn’t been “claimed” yet.
“Look at that,” the one in the center rasped. He was large, scarred across his cheek, and he grinned, revealing teeth that were just a little too sharp. “Fresh meat.” Aria took a step back, her hand tightening around the pitchfork.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice trembling but trying to hold steady. The lead shifter laughed, a low, guttural sound.
“We’re here for the Choosing, little human. And it looks like you’re the prize we’ve been waiting for.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He lunged, his movement blurring as he shifted in mid-air, his bones cracking and reforming as he became a massive wolf with fur the color of dried blood.
He slammed into her, knocking the wind out of her and the pitchfork from her hands.
She hit the dirt hard, the breath driven from her lungs.
She scrambled to her feet, her legs trembling, but she didn’t run.
She turned and bolted toward the farmhouse, her heart screaming at her to move faster.
The other two shifters shifted as well, their forms shifting into wolves with a terrifying speed that made the dirt kick up around them. They cut her off, boxing her in.
She ran blindly, her boots slipping in the loose gravel of the yard, but there was nowhere to go. The fence was too high, the barn door was shut. She was trapped.
The lead wolf pinned her to the ground, his massive weight crushing her. She gasped, staring up at his snarling face, his yellow eyes burning with hunger. She kicked at him, but he didn’t even flinch. He leaned down, his noise brushing against her neck, inhaling deeply.
“Smells sweet,” he growled, his hot breath washing over her skin. “And untouched.” He shifted back to his human form, looming over her, his hand reaching out to grab her arm.
“Come on. We don’t have all day.” He hauled her up, his grip bruisingly tight, and dragged her toward the waiting wolves.
Aria stumbled, her feet barely touching the ground, her mind racing with a desperate, futile plan.
They took her to a makeshift encampment on the edge of the pack’s territory, a collection of tents and wagons where the human women were kept before the Choosing.
It smelled of sweat, fear and unwashed bodies.
She was thrown into a small, cold tent with several other women.
They were all young, ranging from eighteen to twenty-four, and they huddled together in the corner, their eyes wide with terror.
Aria sat on the floor, her head spinning, trying to process what was happening.
She was being taken. She was going to be sold.
The next morning, she was forced out of the room. A group of women, including Aria, were led to a large, tiled room that smelled of antiseptic and steam. They were herded into a line, their faces flushed from the heat.
“Strip,” a woman said. She was human, but she wore the uniform of the pack’s servants, and she moved with the cold efficiency of a machine. “You need to be clean for the Choosing.”
Aria hesitated, her face burning with shame. She looked at the other women, but they were already stripping, their bodies exposed to the cool air. She didn’t have a choice. She pulled off her rough clothes, her skin prickling with gooseflesh. She stood there, naked, as the woman inspected her.
She was scrubbed and washed, her skin rubbed raw with coarse soap.
Then, she was dressed. The woman handed her a simple white dress, made of a sheer fabric that clung to her body, barely covering her.
It was the kind of thing that was meant to be seen, to be admired.
It made her feel vulnerable, stripped of her dignity and her safety.
She looked like a doll, a piece of merchandise on display. Her auburn hair was wet and slicked to her head, her green-gold eyes wide with fear. She looked beautiful, but in a way that was meant to be broken.
Then came the examination. A doctor, a man with cold, clinical eyes and a clipboard, walked down the line. He touched the women, prodding their skin, checking their teeth, listening to their hearts. He didn’t care about their feelings. He cared about their value.
When he reached Aria, he paused. He ran a hand down her arm, his fingers rough and calloused. He looked her over, his eyes lingering on her chest and her hips. He frowned, then stepped closer, his face inches from hers.
“Healthy,” he muttered, his voice devoid of emotion. “Strong constitution.” He pressed a hand to her stomach, his fingers cold through the thin dress. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. Then he opened them, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Virgin,” he said, his voice loud enough for the others to hear.
“Untouched.” A ripple of whispers went through the line.
The women looked at Aria with a mixture of envy and pity.
They knew what this meant. In the world of the shifters, a virgin was a rare commodity.
It meant purity, fertility, and value. It meant she would be the most sought-after item on the auction block.
The doctor nodded, making a mark on his clipboard.
“High value. Excellent breeding stock.” He stepped back, dismissing her as if she were nothing more than a cow he was inspecting for quality.
Aria felt a flush of humiliation rise up her neck.
She was being reduced to her biology, to her potential to produce pups.
She was a prize, a treasure to be bought and sold.
She was led out of the room, the sheer white dress fluttering around her legs.
She walked to the large window overlooking the arena where the Choosing would take place.
She saw the stands filled with shifters, their eyes gleaming with greed and anticipation.
She saw the stage, a platform raised high above the ground, where the women would be displayed.
The days passed in a blur of waiting. They were fed simple meals of bread and water, kept in the dark room at night, and forced to parade in front of the shifters during the day.
Aria learned that there were other women from other towns, women who had been captured from their homes just like her.
They were all terrified, all waiting for the auction that would change their lives forever.
And then, the day came. The day of the Choosing.
Aria was led out onto the stage, her hands trembling.
The shifters in the stands roared, their voices a cacophony of sound that shook the very ground beneath her feet.
She stood there exposed and afraid, waiting for the bidding to begin.
She didn’t know who would buy her, or what her future would hold.
But as she looked out at the sea of faces, she saw one pair of eyes that stood out from the rest.
Grey, cold, and utterly devoid of warmth.
He was watching her, as if he was already imagining what he would do to her. Aria shivered, not just from the cold air, but from the realization that her simple, safe life was over. She was about to be consumed be the darkness, and there was no turning back.