Chapter Two: Sold To The Monster

The crowd shouted like hungry beasts, their voices combining into a deafening sound of joy. Torches shone in the night, their glow showing strange shadows over the crowd of faces. Nobles and werewolves alike fought for position, their eyes shiywith disturbing glee.

I was pushed forward, my bare feet catching against the rough wooden stage. The chains around my wrists and ankles and neck clanked with each reluctant step I took. My body still felt strange, too fragile, too weak, but my mind—my mind was pissed.

This wasn't happening.

This cannot be happening.

The smell of sweat, ale, and wet wood filled my senses, making it hard to breathe. Every muscle in my body stiffened as I was pushed forward. The man gripping my arm did not care for the bruises already forming under his rough touch.

A bony hand pushed me forward one more, and I stumbled onto the platform, the planks shifting under my weight. Gasps went through the audience as they took me in—wide golden eyes, a delicate face, and a tattered dress barely covering my malnourished frame.

"She's pretty," someone murmured.

"Too thin," another scoffed. "She won't last long."

A third voice chuckled darkly, "No matter. I don't need her to last long."

I felt like vomiting . My fists clenched at my sides as I forced my breath to stay steady. I refused to show them weakness.

I wouldn't beg.

I wouldn't cry.

If I had to die here, I wouldn't do it as a coward.

A man wearing dark robes stepped onto the stage beside me, his voice flowing through the murmurs like a hot knife through butter.

"Gentlemen, ladies—tonight, we have a rare offering." His lips curled in a sly grin. "A cursed daughter, abandoned and unwanted, yet untouched."

Laughter rippled through the audience, cruel and mocking.

Cursed daughter?

What did that mean?

The words churned in my gut, but before I could process them, a harsh, familiar voice rang out.

"She deserves this!"

The blood in my veins turned to ice.

A man stood near the front of the crowd, his graying hair wild, his eyes filled with venomous satisfaction. His fine clothes marked him as someone of wealth, but his expression—his expression held nothing but contempt.

Hatred.

I knew that look.

I had seen it before, on the battlefield, in the faces of enemies. But this time, it wasn't directed at a soldier. It was directed at me.

A sharp, searing pain stabbed through my skull. The memories from this body, this Liana, surged forward.

This man…

My father.

The knowledge came in a flash—sudden, brutal, undeniable. My stomach twisted, a foreign wave of emotions tightening around my throat. His presence made my skin crawl, the remnants of this body's past life filling me with a cold, bone-deep fear.

I wasn't just some unfortunate girl being auctioned off.

I was despised.

Unwanted.

They saw me as cursed.

The auctioneer raised a hand, his voice booming over the crowd. "Let's not delay. We start the bidding at ten gold pieces."

A nobleman in deep red robes lifted a hand lazily. "I'll offer fifteen."

"Twenty," someone else countered.

"Twenty-five," a third voice chimed in.

The bidding climbed fast, the excitement in the air thick and suffocating.

My stomach twisted at the leering stares, at the way they assessed me—calculating, weighing my worth in nothing but gold.

I wasn't Jiang Yue anymore.

I was Liana—the cursed daughter.

My body trembled with the urge to fight, to do something. But I had no weapon, no strength, no allies. And if this body was truly weaker than my original one, there was no way I could fight my way out of this.

I had to wait.

I had to think.

Just as I forced myself to inhale, the energy in the crowd shifted. The bids slowed, uncertainty creeping in.

Then, a voice—low and cold, yet somehow deafening over the noise.

"Fifty gold."

The world stilled.

A hush fell over the crowd.

The nobles exchanged wary glances, tension rippling through the air.

And then, from the back of the auction house, the sea of bodies parted.

He stepped forward.

A man taller than any I'd ever seen, draped in black, his presence swallowing the space around him. His long coat, fastened with silver buckles, moved like liquid shadow. I could not read his face—sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and eyes like melted gold.

The torches almost went out as he moved, casting ghostly light over his face.

A predator.

I felt it in my bones before my mind could fully register the danger.

The others shrank back instinctively. Even the noblemen, who had been bidding moments before, fell silent.

A murmur spread through the crowd.

"The Beast…"

"The Alpha…"

"Alpha Kale…"

A chill ran down my spine.

Alpha.

I had heard that word before. A title of power, of strength.

But the way they whispered his name—it was different. It wasn't just respect. It was fear.

Kale.

The name coiled around my throat like a noose.

This was the man they feared.

The monster.

The werewolf who is referred to as The Beast.

I wanted to move back, to put distance between both of us, but my body refused to obey me.

The eyes settled on me like iron chains, heavier than the ones wrapped around my wrists and my neck.

"Fifty gold, going once," the auctioneer said, suddenly breathless.

No one spoke.

No one dared.

"Going twice."

I clenched my jaw.

Please, someone outbid him.

Anyone.

But the silence stretched on.

The gavel struck the wooden podium.

"Sold."

The finality of the word crashed over me like a tidal wave.

My stomach twisted as Kale took another step forward.

The crowd parted for him without hesitation, their gazes lowered, their bodies shifting to make way as if he were royalty. Or something worse.

He stopped before me, his presence overwhelming, suffocating.

His golden eyes locked onto mine.

And then—he smiled.

It wasn't kind.

It wasn't warm.

It was a silent declaration.

A promise.

He reached for me.

He brushed his finger against the metal collar fastened around my neck, his touch light yet accompanied with authority.

When he spoke his voice was smooth as silk, yet lined with steel.

"You belong to me now."