Chapter 1 ONE
The rain didn’t just fall; it attacked,
a cold, relentless assault that
matched the war raging in my head.
The number on my phone screen
seemed to pulse in time with my
heartbeat, a digital death sentence.
$187,432.17. Medical debt for my
sister, Elara. A sum so large it had
become an abstract monster, until
the final notice arrived this morning.
Now, the monster was at the door,
its breath frosting the glass.
My umbrella had given up the ghost
two blocks ago, and water seeped
through the seams of my cheap
boots. This part of the city was a
forgotten wound, all crumbling brick and shadows that clung too long. I
was looking for a door, a specific,
unmarked door beside a pawn shop
that reeked of despair and old
metal. Finn, a guy from the bar who
knew things he shouldn't, had
muttered an address and a name.
"Asmodeus Inc. They don't ask
questions. But the interest… it has
teeth."
It was my last, worst option.
I found the number, but the pawn
shop was dark, a metal grate pulled
shut. Panic, cold and sharp, lanced
through me. Had I gotten it wrong?
Was I truly out of options? Then I
saw it—a sliver of light from a
narrow, black door I’d mistaken for
an alleyway entrance. There was no
number, just a simple symbol
etched into the dark wood: a
serpent coiled around a key.
This was it. The point of no return.
I took a breath that did nothing to
steady me, pushed the door open,
and stepped into another world.
The silence was the first shock. The
door clicked shut behind me,
muting the city's roar into a distant
hum. The air was warm, thick with
the scent of old books, sandalwood,
and something else… something
metallic and wild, like the air after a
lightning strike. I stood in a small,
opulent antechamber. Dark wood
paneling, a single plush chair, and a
single elevator door made of
burnished bronze.
A man stood beside the elevator. He
was tall, gaunt, dressed in an
impeccably tailored suit that
seemed to drink the light. His eyes
were the colour of a winter sky, and
they assessed me with a
dispassionate chill that made my
skin prickle.
"You are expected?" he asked, his
voice a dry rustle of leaves.
"I… I was told to come here. For a
loan," I managed, my own voice
sounding small and pathetic.
He didn't blink. "The acquisition is
underway. You may observe. Do not interfere." He pressed a button on
the wall, and the bronze elevator
doors slid open without a sound.
Acquisition? Observe? The words
felt wrong, but the door to the rainy
street behind me felt like a lifetime
away. I was adrift, pulled by a
current I didn't understand. I
stepped into the elevator.
It descended. Not for a second, but
for a full minute, the numbers on
the display above the door counting
down into negative levels. My ears
popped. Finally, with a gentle
chime, the doors opened.
The sound hit me first—a low,
resonant murmur of dozens of
voices. The sight that met my eyes
made my brain stutter, trying and
failing to process the reality.
I stood at the top of a steep
amphitheatre, looking down into a
circular chamber. It was grander
than any opera house, draped in
blood-red velvet and lit by glowing
crystal orbs that floated near the
vaulted ceiling. The attendees… they were not all human. A woman
with skin like polished jade and hair
of living ivy sat beside a man whose
eyes flickered with literal flames.
Another had the sharp, elegant
features and faintly pointed ears of
the fae from Elara’s storybooks. I
saw scales, horns, and shadows
that moved on their own. This was a
gathering of myths, and I was a
mouse who had wandered into a
den of lions.
At the centre of it all was a raised
dais, where a man in a silver robe
stood, his voice magically amplified.
"—a singular opportunity! Lot 77! A
prime specimen, recently…
acquired."
My heart was a frantic drum against
my ribs. I needed to leave. Every
instinct screamed at me to run. But
my feet were rooted to the spot, my
eyes locked on the dais as two
figures dragged a third onto the
platform.
The prisoner was a man. He was
tall, with a powerful build that even the cruel, silver-chained manacles
on his wrists and ankles couldn't
diminish. He was shirtless, revealing
a torso mapped with muscle and
old, silvery scars. His head was
bowed, a fall of dark, unruly hair
obscuring his face. But even in
submission, he radiated a terrifying,
coiled power. The air around him
seemed to shimmer with heat.
"I present," the auctioneer's voice
dripped with theatrical relish,
"Kaelen of the House of Drakon. A
pure-blooded Royal Dragon shifter.
Former CEO of the Drakon
Consolidated empire. Neutralized
and collared for your security and…
pleasure."
A dragon. They were selling a
dragon.
The bidding started fast and
furious, a blur of numbers and
flashing paddles. Ten million.
Twenty. Fifty. The numbers were so
vast they lost all meaning. This
wasn't my world. This was a
nightmare. I had to get out. I turned to leave, but a group of
newcomers entered the balcony,
blocking my path. I shrank back
against the wall, into the shadows,
hoping to become invisible.
"The bidding stands at eighty-five
million!" the auctioneer crowed. "Do
I hear ninety?"
A deep, resonant voice from the
front row answered. "One hundred
million."
The man who spoke turned his head
slightly, and I saw a profile of sharp,
cruel beauty, skin pale as
moonlight. He smiled, and the tips
of elongated canines glinted. A
vampire. He looked at the dragon
on the stage not as a being, but as
a trophy.
Something inside me snapped. It
wasn't bravery. It was a culmination
of everything—the debt, the rain,
the fear, the sheer, monstrous
injustice of this entire scene. This
man, this Kaelen, was a king, and
they were treating him like
livestock. A hot, reckless fury burned through my veins, scorching
away my fear.
In that moment, the dragon lifted
his head.
His hair fell away, revealing a face of
hard, unforgiving lines and a jaw set
in defiance. But it was his eyes that
captured me. They were the colour
of molten gold, flecked with emberbright sparks. They burned with a
feral, ancient intelligence and a rage
that promised utter destruction.
They swept over the crowd, a king
surveying his captors with utter
contempt.
And then, those fiery eyes locked
directly onto mine.
It was like being struck by lightning.
A jolt of pure, unadulterated energy
slammed into me, so visceral it
stole my breath. My skin tingled.
The noise of the auction faded into
a dull roar. In that single, searing
glance, I saw not just his rage, but a
profound, soul-deep weariness. And
a question.
The vampire bid one hundred and
ten million.
The auctioneer grinned. "Going
once! Going twice—"
The word was out of my mouth
before the thought had fully
formed, propelled by a force I didn't
understand. My voice, clear and
sharp, cut through the anticipatory
silence.
"One hundred and ten million and
one dollar!"
A dead, profound silence swallowed
the entire chamber. Every single
head, human and otherwise, turned
to stare at me, the drenched,
shivering human girl in the
shadows. The vampire's smile
vanished, replaced by a look of icy,
murderous fury.
The auctioneer blinked,
stammering. "I… I beg your
pardon?"
The dragon on the dais, Kaelen,
didn't look away from me. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his
face. It wasn't a smile of gratitude.
It was the smile of a predator who
had just seen a fascinating new
game enter his territory.
The auctioneer's gavel slammed
down with a crack that echoed like
a gunshot.
"Sold! To the human in the back!"
The vampire rose, his eyes glowing
crimson. The dragon, Kaelen, kept
his burning golden gaze fixed on
me, and his low, resonant voice
carried across the suddenly tense
room, meant only for my ears.
"Well, little mouse," he said, the
words a dark promise. "Now you
own a dragon. I hope you have a
very, very large cage."