IRIS POV
Hands grab her arm.
Not gentle. Not kind. Just hands that pull her forward like she's a bag of grain being moved across a market. Iris stumbles but she doesn't cry out. Crying makes things worse. She learned that a long time ago.
The concrete warehouse is cold and smells like sweat and fear. Her fear. She keeps her eyes down like her father taught her. Like every omega in the Chen Pack was taught. A good omega doesn't look at the alphas who come to examine her. A good omega stays invisible until someone claims her.
But it's hard not to look when she feels their eyes on her body.
A man circles her slowly. He's older, maybe forty, with a thick neck and scarred knuckles. He grabs her jaw and turns her face side to side like he's checking teeth on a horse. Iris holds her breath. Her skin crawls but she doesn't pull away.
Another man runs his hand down her back. He's searching for strength or weakness or something she doesn't understand. Iris is small for twenty-two. Barely five foot four. Her bones are thin. Her muscles are lean. Her father always said her size was both a gift and a curse. Omegas aren't supposed to be threatening but they're also supposed to be strong enough to bear children.
Iris is small enough to be safe. Strong enough to survive.
The second man grunts and walks away.
More keep coming. A woman with cold eyes looks at Iris's hands and nods. A young alpha barely older than her touches her hair and frowns. An older female examines her teeth like the first man did, checking for decay or health or signs that the investment is worth the money.
Iris stands still through all of it. Her heart is racing so hard she thinks it might break her ribs. But her face stays blank. Empty. This is what survival looks like.
Her father sits in the front row with his shoulders slumped like a man who's already died. She can't look at him. If she looks at him, she'll break.
The auctioneer steps forward. He's a thin man with a clipboard and a voice that fills the entire warehouse. His words come out smooth and practiced. He's done this before. He'll do it again.
My name is Iris Chen. I'm twenty-two years old. My bloodline comes from the Chen Pack, one of the oldest omega lineages in the eastern territories. I speak five languages because my father was kind enough to educate me even though omegas are supposed to be decorative, not useful.
The auctioneer doesn't say all of that. But he implies it.
What comes out of his mouth is: "Strong bloodline. Educated. Obedient. Good breeding hips. Omega genetics are pure. She's never been mated. She's never been touched. She comes to you untouched and trained to serve."
Iris hears this like she's underwater. Like it's happening to someone else. Her entire life compressed into a description. Her entire self reduced to breeding potential and obedience.
The bidding starts low. Fifty thousand dollars. One hundred thousand. The numbers climb like a ladder she's being forced to climb while someone beats her.
A man in an expensive suit raises his hand. Two hundred thousand.
Another voice from the side. Two hundred and fifty.
Her father's face has turned grey. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars is more money than the Chen Pack has seen in five years. More money than he spent to raise her. This number means her pack survives. This number means her younger brothers and sister eat next winter. This number means her father's dying pack gets one more chance at life.
This number is her price.
The bidding continues. Three hundred thousand. Three hundred and fifty. Four hundred.
Iris feels something inside her die. She's not even aware of it happening. It just stops. Her heart keeps beating but something essential stops working. She's no longer Iris Chen who wanted to be a teacher. She's no longer Iris Chen who dreamed of running through forests and feeling free. She's inventory. She's currency. She's a body with a price tag.
Four hundred and fifty thousand.
Silence.
The auctioneer is about to close when a voice comes from the back of the warehouse.
It's not loud but everyone goes quiet anyway. The voice is calm like it's ordering coffee instead of buying a human being. The voice is cold like it's never felt warmth.
Five hundred thousand.
The whole room stops breathing.
Iris's head snaps up against every instinct telling her to stay down. She sees him for the first time. He's sitting in the back with his arms crossed. He's tall even sitting down. Dark hair. Grey eyes that look at her like she's a problem to be solved. He's maybe thirty years old but he has the face of someone who's already lived a thousand hard years.
He's terrifying.
The other bidders exchange looks. Someone mutters something. This price is insane. This price is beyond insane.
Five hundred thousand dollars for an omega.
For her.
The auctioneer's hand goes up slowly. Is there any other bid?
Silence stretches like taffy. Someone coughs. Someone else shifts in their seat.
No other bids come.
Five hundred and fifty? Six hundred?
Nothing. The room is completely silent.
The gavel comes down.
Sold to the gentleman in the back. Five hundred thousand dollars.
Iris's entire world collapses.
She watches the man stand. He's wearing all black. Tailored. Expensive. He doesn't look at her as he stands. Doesn't acknowledge that he just bought a human being. He just speaks to someone near him, a woman with blonde hair pulled tight, and points in Iris's general direction like he's sending someone to pick up a package at the store.
The woman walks toward Iris.
Her father stands up. He tries to come forward but guards block him. His face is breaking open and Iris realizes he's about to cry. The same man who sold his daughter just spent the last hour pretending it was for the pack's survival is finally admitting that it's not about survival. It's about surrender.
The blonde woman takes Iris's arm.
Eleanor. That's what the man calls her. Eleanor, take the bride to the car.
Bride. Not package. Not purchase. Bride.
Iris doesn't resist as Eleanor pulls her toward the exit. Her legs barely work. Her brain is screaming but her mouth stays shut because that's what she was trained to do.
As they reach the door, Eleanor leans close and whispers something that makes Iris's blood freeze in her veins.
You have no idea what you've just been purchased for, child. But you'll understand soon enough when we arrive at the Blackwell compound.
Iris's heart stops.
Blackwell.
That name means something. It's been whispered in the Chen Pack like a prayer or a curse. The Blackwell Alpha. The most powerful pack on the eastern seaboard. The Alpha who took control at nineteen. The Alpha who's never lost a battle. The Alpha who doesn't feel anything anymore.
That's who just bought her.
That's who owns her now.
The car door closes behind her and Iris realizes that her entire life just ended.
It's only about to begin.