Raine was sitting in her dark cell, but she couldn’t find the peacefulness that she longed for; she had learned that even darkness had a sound.
It wasn’t silence, exactly. Silence was pure and clean, but darkness was filled with unsettling sounds. Darkness carried echoes—distant voices, the sound of boots against the stone floor, and the rattle of chains carried through stone walls and iron bars.
Tonight, the darkness buzzed with excitement.
The auction had begun.
Gold. Hunger. Power.
Raine closed her eyes. She leaned her back against the cold wall of her cell with her knees drawn closely to her chest, while her fingers were absentmindedly tracing the chains around her wrists. The air smelled of smoke and dampness. Somewhere nearby, a woman cried. Somewhere else, chains rattled.
And somewhere beyond the corridor, someone laughed, cheering.
Raine closed her eyes.
"Twenty! Twenty-five! Fifty!"
She had been here long enough to know what those sounds meant. The rise and fall of voices with the brief pauses filled with anticipation and the final, decisive strike of the gavel that ended it all.
"Sold!"
She flexed her fingers slowly in her attempt to calm herself. Panic would do her no good. Panic never did.
Then she heard it—her name.
"Raine."
Her eyes opened instantly.
For a heartbeat, the world felt very still. She closed her eyes again for a brief moment before she heard the cell door swing open.
Rough hands grabbed her arms without warning.
"On your feet."
She stood up obediently.
"Try not to bruise me," Raine said dryly. "I would hate to lower my value."
The man snorted. "You healers are all the same."
"I doubt that," she replied. "Most of them are smarter than this."
He ignored her and marched her out of her cell, which suddenly seemed comfortable for her.
He dragged her down the corridor.
"Move! Move! Move quickly," the man yelled at her.
"Alright, alright," she didn’t struggle. She had known better; fighting never changed the outcome—it only made the punishment harsher. It only made them hurt her more. She had learned it the hard way.
They marched her down the narrow corridor, their boots echoing against the stone. As they were passing other cells, she felt eyes on her—hollow and desperate. She didn’t look back. Looking back made it even harder to walk forward.
The corridor led into the auction hall. The man opened the door.
The heat hit her first. Then came the light, which temporarily blinded her.
The auction hall was the total opposite of the suddenly comfortable cell she had left behind.
The auction hall was bright and crowded with shifters who were sitting like judges. Their eyes followed her as the man forced her to step onto the platform and walked her to the middle, ready for the bidding. Their eyes were judging, assessing her.
Raine lifted her chin.
Her long black hair fell down her back. Her green eyes swept across the room. She refused to feel small and refused to shrink. Fear lived in her chest—but she would not give in and give the satisfaction to those watching her with full anticipation.
The auctioneer smiled.
"Twenty-one years old," he announced. "Fully trained," he added.
Raine’s jaw tightened.
"A healer," he continued, his voice rising just enough to stir interest.
The hall shifted instantly. The reaction was immediate; bodies leaned forward.
Then, Raine felt it—the shift. The moment she stopped being a person and became a commodity, and the anticipation in the auction hall rose drastically.
The bidding started immediately.
Raine kept her expression devoid of any emotions as the bidding began. It started high, and the numbers increased fast. Too fast, with frightening ease.
"Fifty! Eighty! A hundred! A hundred and fifty! Two hundred! Two hundred and fifty!"
Raine stared straight ahead, trying to breathe as evenly as possible in this situation, even though her pulse was hammering against her ribs. Her mind wandered elsewhere.
She had known this moment would come sooner or later.
Still, knowing it didn’t make it easier.
She stopped listening after the numbers climbed too high to matter. Instead, she studied faces—who leaned forward, who hesitated, and who watched her like prey.
Her gaze drifted, searching for anything—anyone—to focus on, away from the hustle and bustle of the bidding. That was when she saw him, a man seated near the front.
Alpha Janson.
This man was impossible to miss. He was tall and broad, with thick arms crossed over his chest. He had silver hair, which was pulled back neatly, and his presence alone exuded dominance, even when seated among others. He looked as if he were carved from stone—stern, immovable, and powerful. Those around him seemed to hesitate, their voices faltering when he moved.
The auctioneer cleared his throat. "Current offer—"
And when Alpha Janson finally raised his hand, the hall fell silent.
"Double," he said sternly.
No one said anything, and the auctioneer didn’t hesitate. The gavel struck wood with a sharp crack, three times.
"Sold!"
The sound echoed in Raine’s ears.
Just like that, it was over. Her fate was sealed. Now she belonged to the Silver Wolf Pack.
***
The Silver Wolf Pack house rose high from the mountainside against the night sky, built of stone and dark wood, ancient and powerful. Raine stood in the main hall. Her wrists were free now, but some guards stood nearby as Alpha Janson faced her across the stone floor.
The main hall was vast and warm, with a fireplace on both the left and right sides, lit by the moonlight streaming through tall windows. Symbols were carved into the walls, crests that spoke of powerful bloodlines.
Alpha Janson studied her with a gaze that missed nothing.
"You know why you are here," he said.
Raine tilted her head slightly. She refused to show the man her true feelings of fear and anxiety.
"To make you regret spending so much gold?" Raine responded dryly.
One of the guards sucked in a sharp breath.
Janson raised a hand. "You are bold."
"I am terrified," she corrected. "Bold is just how it leaks out."
He studied her. "You are a healer."
"Yes, I am," she confirmed.
"You will heal my son," he said in a decisive tone.
Raine tilted her head. "That depends."
Janson’s eyes hardened. "Depends on what?"
"On whether I know what is wrong with him," she said carefully. "Healers are not miracle workers. Contrary to popular belief."
"You will heal my son," Janson repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And you have six months."
Raine’s breath stilled.
"What is wrong with him?" she asked carefully.
"No healer has been able to cure him," Janson replied a little harshly.
That told her enough, more than he probably intended.
"And what if I fail during those six months?" She asked even more carefully.
Alpha Janson’s eyes hardened and turned cold. "If there is no progress and you fail, you will be executed."
Raine blinked. "Straight to death? No warnings?"
"No."
The word landed without hesitation.