Page 6 of Sold to the wrong Alpha
The other omega looked away first, swallowing hard, and Ren noticed it even from where he stood. His hands were shaking.
“One hundred thousand,” said a voice from the front row.
It sounded casual. Like someone ordering another drink.
Ren closed his eyes for a moment, but that only made it worse. The darkness amplified the sounds—the satisfied murmur of the buyers, the rustle of expensive suits against the leather of the seats, his own racing pulse pounding in his temples.
He opened his eyes. His peripheral vision was narrowing.
Breathe. In. Out.
“One hundred twenty thousand.” Another voice. From behind.
“One hundred forty.”
The numbers rose with the obscene nonchalance of those buying livestock. No one flinched. No one questioned the fact that there was a flesh-and-blood boy on that platform, that he could hearthem, that he understood well they were deciding who would buy him as if he were a piece of luxury furniture.
The omega kept his gaze fixed on the floor. His fists clenched at his sides. His ragged breathing made his chest rise and fall beneath the latex.
Ren clenched his fingers around the paper Rocco had given him. It was still there. Small and real.
“When the lights go out… run.”
When? When would the lights go out? What if they didn’t? What if it were just a joke?
“Three hundred sixty thousand.”
Kovac’s voice floated above everything, moderating, encouraging, extracting every additional dollar with the mastery of a shark that smells blood.
“We have three hundred sixty. Does any gentleman wish to continue?”
A brief silence.
“Five hundred thousand.” A bald man with a solid gold ring. His accent was foreign, German, perhaps, or Austrian.
The omega swayed. Almost imperceptibly. As if his knees were threatening to give way.
Ren’s stomach lurched. Acidic bile burned his throat. He swallowed hard, but the sensation remained, thick and nauseating.
The edges of his vision flickered. Dark spots danced around him. Hang in there. Just a little longer.
“Nine hundred thousand,” said a fresh voice. A deep, self-satisfied voice that drew gasps of surprise and murmurs of envy.
Pause.
Kovac smiled. He turned on his heels, scanning the room with that calculating gaze that took everything in.
“Nine hundred thousand at one…”
Ren’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure the men sitting nearby could hear it.
“Nine hundred thousand at two…”
The omega stood with his mouth agape, as if the identity of the alpha who had made that bid filled him with both confusion and dread. He shook his head once, incredulous.
“Sold for nine hundred thousand.”
The gavel fell with a sharp thud that echoed like a sentence.
