Chapter 15
A low murmur rippled through the audience hall, growing louder until it became a cacophony of excitement and unease. I scanned the faces around me, each one alight with a malevolent hunger that made my skin crawl. Their gazes bore into me, predatory and unrelenting, and I felt my body tremble involuntarily. Panic clawed at my chest, stealing my breath, while their distorted laughter rose and fell, intertwining with the auctioneer's booming voice as he called out bids.
“One million dollars… two million… three…”
The numbers climbed quickly, too quickly. The bidders, unable to contain their frenzy, stood and argued, their greed on full display. Why? Why were they so desperate? My mind, wild with fear, latched onto fragments of knowledge I’d once read—tales of the wealthy stealing youth through forbidden methods, transfusions of blood from the young to the old. Was that what this was about?
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the spiraling thoughts. Yet they lingered, growing darker and stranger, tugging at the edges of my sanity.
When I was young, I had learned of werewolves—creatures who could shift form and lived among us in secrecy. To me, they weren’t just folklore but an accepted part of reality. Still, I’d dismissed the idea of other supernatural beings existing, relegating them to the realm of fiction. I had been naïve, ignorant even, unwilling to consider the possibility of darker, more sinister entities. Now, staring into the faces of these bidders, I couldn’t deny the truth pressing down on me.
“One hundred million dollars!” a voice thundered.
The room fell silent. My eyes darted toward the source—a tall man with brown hair, his face obscured by a mask, standing in the regal theater box. His auction paddle was raised high. The auctioneer faltered, his voice trembling as he gulped audibly.
“Is that the Lord Protector’s aid?” a hushed voice whispered nearby, laced with fear.
“It can’t be! He wouldn’t be here to bid. This must be a raid!” another voice answered, panicked.
“Run! Get out of here!”
The murmurs of terror spread like wildfire, and I caught a faint, low chuckle from the masked man. Then, abruptly, the lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the hall. My vision was useless, but my ears filled with chaos—shrieks, guttural groans, and the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh. The noises weren’t gunshots or anything mechanical; they were savage, primal, like wild animals tearing into prey.
I shrank back into the center of my cage, curling up as though I could disappear. Every nerve in my body screamed to stay still, to be invisible. I prayed, fervently, that whatever chaos had erupted wouldn’t find me.
Then I felt it—a hand, rough and clawed, reaching between the bars. Its nails scraped against my skin as it groped for a grip. I screamed and instinctively lashed out, grabbing the intruder’s wrist and striking the forearm with all the force I could muster. A pained howl echoed, and the hand withdrew.
Shaking, I rose to my feet, fists clenched, ready for another assault. Footsteps pounded toward me, swift and heavy. I braced myself, but before I could react, something warm and wet splattered across my face and chest. The coppery scent hit me instantly—blood. The runner’s blood.
I stumbled back, terror surging anew. My pulse hammered in my ears as I strained to decipher the shadows around me, each sound a possible threat. Still locked in the cage, I could only wait, helpless, for someone or something to come closer.
A faint glow appeared at the edge of the stage, illuminating the silhouette of the auctioneer. He was running, his breath ragged and his steps frantic. Clutching a keycard, he skidded to a halt in front of my cage and fumbled with the lock.
“You’re coming with me!” he snarled, shoving the door open.
As he bent to step inside, I seized my chance. With swift precision, I flung the chain of my cuffs around his neck and pulled it tight. He choked, his hands clawing at the chain, but I tightened my grip, leveraging every ounce of strength I had. His struggles weakened, and with a final gasp, he collapsed.
I released him and scrambled out of the cage, the weight of my chains slowing me down. The darkness outside was alive with movement—shapes shifting, bodies clashing. Whoever the attackers were, they fought with brutal efficiency, and I doubted their intent was rescue.
I stumbled forward blindly, desperate to find a way out. The cacophony of violence surrounded me, and my mind reeled with unanswered questions. Who were these people? Why had they attacked? And who was that masked man they’d called “the Lord Protector’s aid”?
A dreadful thought struck me as I moved through the carnage. Whatever was happening, it was far from salvation. I had escaped one danger, only to plunge headlong into another.