Chapter Two

Don

The room is packed with men in tailored suits and porcelain masks, all gathered for one reason: the auction. Their faces are hidden, but their intentions are clear. I know what they are—wolves in designer clothing, hiding their depravity behind a thin veil of wealth and power. The air is thick with murmurs and anticipation as girls are paraded in front of them, each one more vulnerable than the last. The auctioneer’s voice cuts through the tension, listing each girl’s “attributes” like they’re objects, not people. It churns my gut.

I sit at the back, my gaze steady, fists tight. The dim light barely reaches my corner, which suits me just fine. I don’t want to be seen. Not by these degenerates. I’m here for one reason only.

Leah.

She doesn’t know me. Not yet. But I’ve known her for a year, and for every one of those long months, I’ve told myself she’s off-limits. That I have no business wanting her.

It was a year ago when I first saw her, and it feels like it’s happening again. I'd just taken over as the leader of the Black Vipers Biker Gang and Harry had invited me to his estate to get ‘acquainted.’ Of course, he really just wanted to know if he could use my crew to take care of his dirty political business. The man is a fucking snake, but I had to play along. I’d been looking for a way to infiltrate his network and his invitation came at just the right time. I'd excused myself under the guise of going to the restroom, made a detour and planted some bugs in strategic places in his home. It was a piece of cake for me, and I was done in no time. Then on my way back to the meeting room, I heard it; a soft, angelic voice floating through the halls of that cursed mansion. It stopped me dead in my tracks. I followed the sound, drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and that’s when I saw her. Leah. Sitting at the grand piano, her long brunette hair cascading down her back, her profile delicate yet striking. The way her fingers glided over the keys, the way her voice filled the room—it was like watching poetry in motion. I’ve seen beautiful women before—plenty of them. But Leah is different. She’s everything my world isn’t. Pure. Soft. Untouched by the filth that surrounds her. And that’s why I spent the past year keeping my distance. She doesn’t belong in my world, the one filled with violence and darkness. But no amount of distance stops the pull she has on me. And now, after finding out about Harry’s plan to auction her off like some object, everything has changed. Restraint doesn’t matter anymore. I’m taking her home tonight. Whatever the cost.

The auctioneer’s voice slices through the noise in my head, dragging me back to the present. “And now, the highlight of the evening, gentlemen. Our pièce de résistance… a very special offering.”

The room falls silent. Every eye is glued to the stage as the curtains start to rise. And then she steps into the light. Leah . She looks confused and terrified, standing there in a Santa costume that clings provocatively to her small frame, barely covering her body. The short red skirt exposes her long legs, the top plunging low enough to make every man in the room salivate. It’s obscene, the way the velvet hugs her delicate curves, showing off everything she should be keeping hidden. I can feel the hungry gazes of every man in this room on her as an excited hum starts to spread through the room. I grind my teeth, my fingers unconsciously ball into fists at the filthy thoughts going on in their heads. The fabric barely covers her. The short red skirt exposes her long legs, the top plunging low enough to make every man in the room salivate. It’s obscene, the way the velvet hugs her delicate curves, showing off everything she should be keeping hidden.

Rage surges through me, hot and violent. My fists tighten until my knuckles turn white, but I keep my face unreadable, my emotions buried deep. I can’t lose control. Not here. A strong wave of possessiveness hits me hard, like a punch to the gut. She’s mine. These bastards have no right to even look at her, let alone think they could buy her. But they don’t know that. They don’t know what’s coming. I want to rip every pair of eyes off her. The thought of anyone else thinking about touching her makes my blood boil. She’s not theirs. She’s never been theirs. She’s mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.

I’ve waited long enough.

“Fifty thousand to start,” the auctioneer calls, his voice slick with greed.

The first bid comes in almost immediately. “Fifty-five.”

My jaw clenches as the numbers start to climb. With every new bid, it feels like a knife twisting deeper into my side. Leah trembles, her hands gripping the hem of that ridiculous skirt, trying to cover herself. She’s terrified, and it’s killing me to watch her go through this.

“Sixty.”

“Sixty-five.”

The room is buzzing with excitement, but all I feel is cold, controlled fury. I need to get her out of here. Now.

When the bidding hits seventy-five, I push my chair back. The legs scrape loudly against the floor, drawing attention. I don’t care. This ends now. I raise my hand, my voice calm but final.

“One hundred thousand.”

The room goes dead silent. The auctioneer stutters for a moment, caught off guard. “One hundred thousand,” he repeats, louder this time. “Going once…”

I don’t take my eyes off Leah. She’s confused, scared, trying to make sense of what’s happening. She doesn’t know it yet, but her life is about to change.

“Going twice…”

I stand tall, ready for what’s next. Leah is coming home with me tonight. But this is far from over. Harry will pay for this, and not just with money. He’s crossed me before, but tonight, he’s pushed too far. He thinks he can sell off what’s mine? He’s got no idea what’s coming for him.

“Sold.”

The gavel strikes. It’s done.

I sit back, letting the weight of the moment settle in. Leah is mine now, and nothing in this room—no amount of money, no man in a mask—can change that. But the rage still simmers under my skin. Harry Forbes is going to regret this in ways he can’t even begin to imagine.

And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

The gavel's final strike still echoes in the silence as I stand, pushing my chair back with a slow, deliberate motion. All eyes are on me now, the masked men’s narrowed gazes radiating tension and barely contained animosity. It's a pointed silence, like a collective breath held in disdain, and I know I've made more than a few enemies tonight.

I couldn't care less.

Without glancing at anyone, I stride up to the front, the weight of their glares rolling off my back like nothing. My focus is locked on her—on Leah— standing there on the stage, looking small and fragile under the dim lights. Her face is pale, her green eyes wide with confusion and fear. She's shaking, barely holding on.

When I reach her, I pull off my jacket, draping it around her shoulders. The oversized fabric swallows her petite frame, giving her back some semblance of the dignity that this place has tried to strip away. I can feel her trembling through our touch, her body tense under the soft material. I meet her gaze, those shimmering green eyes filled with terror and disbelief. She has no idea what's happening, no idea why I'm here or what comes next. I take her hand in mine, and for a moment, everything else fades. Her skin is soft, delicate, and cold. I give her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze-my only way of telling her she's safe now. That I won't let anything happen to her. She doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away, but the fear still lingers in her eyes. Without a word, I lead her off the stage, weaving through the crowd of men still glaring daggers at my back. They're not my concern. She is.

Once we're outside, I guide her toward the back lot where my motorcycle is parked. She hesitates when she sees it, her footsteps faltering slightly. I can feel the tension in her eyes, the reluctance, but I don't speak. I'm not one for words. Instead, I grab the helmet from my bike and turn to face her.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly. I can see she's trying hard to keep a brave front and the thought almost makes me smile. She's cute.

“I'm taking you home,” I reply simply.

Her eyes flicker at the word. Home. She looks like she wants to say something but decides against it. She gives me a curt nod of permission and I gently place the helmet on her head, fastening the strap beneath her chin. My fingers brush against her skin, and for a brief second, I'm caught in the mesmerizing depths of her gorgeous green eyes, unable to look away. The desire to touch her, to claim her lips and explore the soft curves of her body, surges through me. My fingers linger at her jawline, my thumb grazing her cheek. But now isn't the time for that.

I rein in my desire, swallowing the lustful thoughts swirling in my head. Control. I've always had it, and I'm not about to lose it now.

I swing my leg over the bike and reach for her hand again, guiding her behind me. She climbs onto the seat, her body tense against mine as she grabs the sides of my jack. I rev the engine, the sound roaring to life, drowning out the weight of everything else for a moment.

“Hold on tight,” I say gruffly, and she obediently slides her arms around my torso. “Good girl,” I mutter to myself as I pull away from the auction house.

My good girl.