Humiliation...
That was what Ren felt as he stood in front of a large and dark audience, a collar around his neck and cuffs binding his wrists.
He also felt hatred and pain... He tried to run a couple of times but only got hurt while doing so. In the end, he could only silently stand in front of these old and disgusting people who looked at him like he was livestock.
It was disgusting...
He felt the familiar, dull throb in his shoulder—a reminder of the years he'd spent swinging a blade under a sun that seemed a lifetime ago.
He shifted his weight, trying to find that perfect center of gravity his father had always demanded, but the heavy iron chains rattled, mocking him. What is the worth of a warrior's posture, he thought bitterly, when you're being sold like livestock?
"The bid for this promising Omega shall start now."
That's right, he was up for auction, stripped of his rights and weighed down by a debt he did not deserve.
He lifted his head, his lifeless eyes looking into the crowd of despicable eyes. It was better to die than live through this, but even his life was not his own, so he could not die at will.
This was his fate.
"Five million," a raspy voice called from the front row.
Ren's stomach churned. He looked at the man—an Alpha whose scent was a cloying, oily musk that made Ren's Omega instincts recoil in disgust. He wanted to spit, but he couldn't move.
"Seven million," another voice barked.
In this room where Ren was a livestock, each and every one of these bidders were Alphas.
And their main goal was to get their hand on this delicious meal prepared before them.
As a result, the bidding intensified, turning into a tug-of-war over his life.
Ren closed his eyes, already thinking of how he was going to throw himself out the window as soon as he got to the house of the Alpha who buys him.
He would rather die than live through this humiliation for the rest of his life.
Ren kept his feet planted, his weight distributed exactly as his father had taught him during those grueling dawn sessions. Balance is the only thing they can't take from you, his father had said. But his father was dead. And this balance was just keeping him from falling when he wanted to fall so badly.
His brothers—strong, dominant Alphas who were supposed to be the shield and spears of the Pierce family—were nothing but ash and memories now.
Two years. It had been two years since the Pierce Legacy burned. Two years since Ren had been forced to trade his crown for a collar.
Two years of constantly running in desperation. He closed his eyes, only to hear a familiar voice call out.
"Ten million."
Ren stiffened and then opened his eyes. That voice… he'd recognize that voice anywhere.
"Ten million going once, going twice…" the auctioneer slammed his baton down with a whack and yelled. "Sold!"
The silence that followed after the auctioneer yelled sold was solid, and nearly suffocating.
In this room that was filled with Alphas, there was a distinction. And that distinction happened to be making his way to the podium.
His Pheromones spread like a cold winter storm, a sharp, cold, and dominating scent that swept through the theater, instantly drowning out the stench of the other Alphas.
It was a scent Ren knew better than his own name.
Heavy footsteps thudded against the plush carpet, slow and deliberate. A man emerged from the shadows of the VIP box, his silhouette cutting a jagged line against the dim house lights.
Ren's heart hammered against his ribs, like a frantic bird in a cage. Not him. Anyone but him. He pleaded inwardly, the dull void in his eyes completely replaced by terror and anger.
"Cillian," the word escaped his lips like venom, his voice cracked and dry.
Cillian climbed the stairs of the stage, and finally stopped in front of Ren, his barely opened eyes tracking the way Ren's throat moved against the iron collar. He leaned in close, his cold Pheromones drowning out the world and suffocating Ren.
But Ren did not back down. Not in front of Cilian. Not in front of the man who ruined his family and stole their legacy.
"You're still standing so straight, Ren," Cillian whispered, loud enough only for Ren to hear.
He was a fox-eyed bastard who always smiled with his eyes curved like a crescent moon, while keeping his most despicable thoughts hidden.
He was the worst of the worst.
Cilian reached out, his thumb tracing the line of Ren's jaw with a terrifying tenderness.
"Your brothers would be proud. Or perhaps... they'd be disgusted to see what's become of their little treasure." He sounded so lighthearted despite the situation which made Ren want to puke even more.
Though Ren vowed never again would he show weakness in front of this man, his body betrayed him. A shiver—part terror, part suppressed Omega instinct—traveled down his spine.
He wanted to spit in Cillian's face, but the weight on his shoulders felt too heavy.
"I'll kill you," Ren breathed, the hatred in his eyes so bright it almost rivaled the stage lights.
Cillian's grin was sharp enough to draw blood, looking at what's become of the little thing he liked to play with with his barely opened eyes.
"Can you, really?" He asked, brushing Ren's neck even more.
"I will. I will have my revenge."
Cilian liked the look in his eyes, the burning rage and the terror mixed together, and how desperately he was trying to fight his Omega instincts.
"Well then, you'll have to survive me first."
In front of this man, in front of an Alpha, Ren was no different from a plaything, but he made a vow. Just as he watched his family's legacy get stolen, watched their house burn down to ashes, and looked into the lifeless eyes of his father and brothers, he vowed he would get revenge on this man.
He vowed to kill him.
And that was what he was going to do, even if it was the last thing he did.