Sold to the Shadow Alpha

The Auction Block

The underground auction house smelled like stale cigar smoke, cheap blood, and pure, concentrated terror.

I was shivering, my bare knees pulled tightly to my chest as I sat in the corner of a rusted iron holding cell. The thin, tattered white slip dress my uncle had forced me to wear offered absolutely no protection against the freezing dampness of the stone floor.

"Stand up, runt."

The heavy iron door groaned open. My Uncle Marcus stood in the frame, his face slick with nervous sweat, a cruel sneer twisting his lips. He reeked of cheap whiskey and massive gambling debts.

I didn't move fast enough for him. Marcus lunged forward, his thick hand wrapping brutally around my upper arm. He yanked me to my feet, his claws digging painfully into my bruised skin.

I let out a soft whimper, stumbling forward. Because of my half-human blood, I didn't have the accelerated healing of a full werewolf. The bruises from his beatings always lingered for weeks.

"Don't embarrass me out there," Marcus hissed, dragging me down the dark, concrete hallway toward the blinding lights of the main stage.

"I owe the Blood Fang Syndicate two hundred thousand dollars by midnight.

You better look pretty, Nia. If you don't sell for enough to cover my debts, I'll let the Syndicate tear you apart myself. "

My stomach violently hollowed out.

I was twenty years old, and I had never known a single day of kindness. I was the pack's punching bag, the half-breed mistake. And now, I was currency.

Marcus shoved me through a set of heavy velvet curtains.

The blinding glare of the stage spotlights hit my eyes. A roar of predatory voices washed over me. The auction room was massive, packed with hundreds of the darkest, most dangerous supernatural creatures on the continent—rogue Alphas, corrupt Syndicate bosses, and wealthy vampires.

I stood frozen in the center of the wooden auction block, wrapping my thin arms around myself, trembling violently as hundreds of hungry, terrifying eyes locked onto my small frame.

"And now, gentlemen!" The auctioneer's magically amplified voice boomed over the crowd. "A rare delicacy. A half-wolf, half-human female. Unmarked. Unclaimed. Perfect for a... private collection. We shall start the bidding at fifty thousand dollars!"

"Sixty!" a disgusting, scarred rogue in the front row yelled, licking his lips as he stared at my legs.

"Seventy-five!" an older vampire chimed in from the balcony.

"One hundred thousand!"

The numbers blurred together in my mind. The air in the room was suffocating. I squeezed my eyes shut, a single, hot tear slipping down my cheek. I prayed to the Moon Goddess for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. I prayed for a quick death.

"Two hundred thousand!" Marcus yelled from the side of the stage, greed completely lighting up his face as the bidding covered his debt.

"Two hundred and fifty!" the rogue in the front row roared.

The auctioneer raised his wooden gavel, a sickening smile on his face. "Going once to the rogue Alpha for two hundred and fifty thousand! Going tw—"

BOOM.

The sound was like a bomb detonating.

The massive, reinforced steel doors at the back of the auction hall were physically ripped off their hinges. They crashed onto the marble floor with a deafening screech of bending metal.

The entire room went dead silent. The shouting, the bidding, the predatory laughter—it all evaporated in a microsecond.

The temperature in the massive hall plummeted to freezing. I could physically see my breath misting in the air.

A shadow stepped through the ruined doorway.

He didn't walk; he stalked into the room with the slow, heavy, earth-shattering grace of an apex predator. He was towering—easily six-foot-six—with shoulders broad enough to block out the sun. He wore thick, dark northern furs over matte-black leather combat armor.

But it was his face that made the rogue Alphas in the room physically step backward in terror.

A jagged, brutal scar slashed across the left side of his rugged, aristocratic face, cutting straight through his brow and down to his jaw. His eyes weren't normal. They were glowing, burning like twin golden suns in the dim light of the hall.

Alpha Kade. The Butcher of the North.

I had heard the terrifying campfire stories about the Winter King. They said he slaughtered entire armies without blinking. They said he hadn't spoken a word of mercy in a decade.

Kade's glowing golden eyes swept over the terrified crowd, dismissing all of them as completely beneath his notice.

Then, his gaze slowly lifted to the brightly lit stage.

His eyes locked onto mine.

Thump. Thump.

My heart gave a violent, terrifying stutter in my chest. An impossible, scorching heat exploded deep within my veins, completely instantly chasing away the freezing cold of the room. The intoxicating, heavy scent of cedarwood, fresh snow, and dark musk hit my senses like a physical blow.

Kade's massive frame went completely, terrifyingly rigid. His chest stopped moving. He stared at me—a bruised, shivering half-breed in a torn dress—as if I were the only creature left on the entire planet.

A low, guttural, demonic growl began to vibrate in his chest, so loud that the wooden floorboards beneath my bare feet actually rattled.

The auctioneer gulped, his hands visibly shaking as he tried to regain control of his illegal event. "A-Alpha Kade... this is a private auction. The current bid is two hundred and fifty thousand..."

Kade didn't look at the auctioneer. He didn't even blink as he stared into my terrified eyes.

"Ten million," Kade's voice was a dark, vibrating rumble of absolute, apocalyptic authority. "And the head of the man who put those bruises on her arms."

Complete, horrified silence fell over the room.

Uncle Marcus let out a pathetic squeak of terror from the side of the stage.

Kade finally moved. He walked slowly down the center aisle. Hundreds of lethal, dangerous men parted like the Red Sea, practically pressing themselves against the walls to avoid touching the Butcher's furs.

He reached the edge of the stage. He didn't use the stairs. He effortlessly vaulted onto the wooden platform, landing silently mere inches away from me.

Up close, he was a mountain of muscle and dark magic.

I was paralyzed with absolute fear, waiting for the monster to strike me, to grab me by the hair and drag me away like a prize.

But Kade didn't grab me.

The terrifying, ruthless warlord slowly reached up to his massive shoulders and unclasped his heavy, incredibly warm fur cloak.

With astonishing, impossible gentleness, he stepped forward and draped the massive cloak entirely around my shivering, bruised shoulders, completely hiding my exposed body from the crowd.

"You're safe now," Kade whispered, his deep voice cracking with a raw, desperate emotion that completely contradicted his terrifying reputation. "I found you."