Chapter 17

Surrender seemed inevitable. My body was in no shape—mentally or physically—to fight back. Against them, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. Were they even human? Slowly, I nodded, agreeing to go with Mr. Larkspur. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth as he grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the blood-soaked room. His eyes scanned me, and with a disapproving click of his tongue, he made his disdain clear.

I must have looked pitiful.

The simple white dress I wore, once clean and unassuming, was now smeared with blood—deep crimson streaks covering me from head to toe. My feet, body, and tangled hair bore the same grotesque stains. Trembling from the biting cold and sheer terror, I met his gaze, praying silently for an end to this nightmare.

Without a word, Mr. Larkspur snapped his fingers, and one of his men rushed forward, draping a blanket over my shoulders. The unexpected gesture made me pause.

“T-thank you,” I murmured, barely able to muster the words as I offered a faint smile.

“Don’t thank me,” he replied curtly, looking away. “The Master wants you alive and healthy. That’s all.”

The blanket did little to ease my fear, but at least it stopped my teeth from chattering as I stood there, barefoot and vulnerable. Around us, his men began the grim task of removing the bodies, dragging them out one by one.

“Let’s go,” Mr. Larkspur commanded, his tone sharp as he gestured toward the dimly lit corridor.

“Wait!” The word slipped out before I could stop myself. I reached out, grabbing his sleeve. My voice faltered as I turned toward the lifeless forms sprawled across the room. “What… what about them?”

He sighed, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Their bodies will be cremated. The Master will ensure their families are compensated. Now move.”

His words felt hollow, rehearsed. I wanted to ask who had done this—to Amara and the others. No wolf, not even the most brutal ones, would commit such a barbaric massacre. But the questions stayed locked inside my head. I couldn’t afford to push my luck, not until I knew more. Answers—and revenge—would have to wait.

For now, I could only wonder why Mr. Larkspur wanted me alive. If they knew the auction was illegal, shouldn’t they have set me free? Instead, it felt as though I was being handed from one captor to another.

I followed him out into the crisp night air, where a line of black vans awaited us. The entire area was swarming with his men. A tall fence was already being erected around the complex, isolating it from the outside world. But what unsettled me more was the complete absence of law enforcement. No flashing lights, no sirens. It was as if Mr. Larkspur’s Master held a power that rendered all other authorities irrelevant.

As his men filed out of the building, their uniforms streaked with blood, I realized something horrifying—none of them had brought any prisoners.

My stomach churned.

The darkness of the night provided them with perfect cover. By cutting the power, they had erased any obvious traces of their slaughter. But their efficiency went beyond that; every street leading to the casino had been cleared, secured, ensuring no prying eyes would witness their work.

“Just how powerful are these people?” The question gnawed at me as I climbed into one of the vans.

Mr. Larkspur slid into the seat beside me, his movements deliberate as he shut the door. “Go,” he barked at the driver.

The engine growled to life, and the van pulled away, the others following close behind. I clung to the blanket, wrapping it tightly around myself as I stared out the window, desperately trying to figure out where we were headed.

Mr. Larkspur’s low chuckle snapped my attention back to him.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, irritation creeping into my voice.

“The Master has never picked his own food before. You’re the first,” he said, his smirk deepening.

“F-food?” The word caught in my throat as dread clawed its way up my spine.

“Oh, come now, Ms. Halloway. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out,” he teased, his tone dripping with mockery.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to look him in the eye. “What… are you?” I finally asked, the words barely audible.

His expression lit up, as if he’d been waiting for that exact question. “Well,” he began, leaning back with a smug grin, “I’m incredibly fast, unbelievably strong… and my skin is cold to the touch.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” I asked, my confusion outweighing my fear for a moment.

He rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You were supposed to ask how old I am!”

“Why on earth would I care about your age?” I shot back, unable to hide my exasperation.

He clicked his tongue in mock frustration. “Haven’t you seen Vampire Diaries?”

“No,” I replied flatly, a small smirk tugging at my lips. “Surviving doesn’t leave much time for movies.”