Chapter 46 Chapter 46
Chapter 46
Nina’s POV
The auctioneer’s gavel hovered mid-air. Thirty million going once.
My eyes stayed squeezed shut. Stage lights seared through my eyelids like branding irons. The crowd’s roar pressed against my skull, a living thing hungry for blood.
I waited for the final strike. For the number that would seal me into someone’s possession.
Then a new voice sliced through the noise. Cold. Precise. Familiar.
“She will be mine forever. Fifty million dollars.”
My eyes flew open.
Dante stood at the edge of the VIP balcony, black tuxedo immaculate, no mask needed because everyone knew that face. He held his paddle high, expression calm as if he were bidding on a vintage car instead of a human life.
Relief crashed through me first—sharp, dizzying. Dante. The devil I knew. The one who threatened fingers and teeth but had never once touched me like those men wanted to. Then fear followed, cold and twisting. Forever. Not one night. Not an evening’s toy. Forever.
The room erupted. Gasps. Shouts. Paddles clattering to the floor.
Before the auctioneer could even acknowledge the bid, another voice rang out—smooth, amused, carrying effortless authority.
“One hundred million.”
A tall man stepped forward from the shadowed rear of the hall. All black: tailored suit, silk shirt, gloves, mask carved from obsidian. White Arabian thobe draped over his shoulders like a royal mantle, gold embroidery catching light in wicked threads. He smiled beneath the mask—slow, predatory, teeth flashing white.
The place detonated into pure commotion.
Screams. Chairs scraping. Security shifting, hands on weapons. Someone dropped a champagne flute; it shattered like gunfire. Whispers turned to yells. “Who is he?” “One hundred million?” “That’s insane.” Even the generals looked stunned.
I felt the blood drain from my face. One hundred million. For me.
Dante’s paddle lowered slowly. Nikolai—still in the wings—froze, golden-hazel eyes narrowing to slits. For the first time I saw real shock on his face: jaw slack for half a second before he locked it down. Enzo beside him looked ready to kill.
My knees threatened to give again. The pillar at my back felt like the only solid thing left in the world.
Then Nikolai moved. Fast. Silent. He crossed the stage in three strides, gloved hand clamping my elbow. His voice came low, urgent, right against my ear.
“Calm down. Stay put. Enzo will come for you.”
I barely had time to register the warmth of his grip before Dante’s voice cut across the chaos again. He smirked—slow, dangerous—toward the black-masked man.
“She’s all yours.”
The words landed like a slap. Dante turned away, disappearing into the balcony shadows as if he had never spoken. Nikolai released me just as quickly, melting back toward the wings. Gone. Both of them.
Amanda lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. “No one is going to have my friend!”
She yanked hard. I stumbled after her, heels slipping on polished wood. The crowd surged closer, phones raised, masks tilting like vultures.
Amanda dragged me toward the side steps, silver mask askew, mascara tracks glistening on her cheeks.
“We need to leave,” she hissed. “Right now. This place is going to be bombed.”
I wrenched my arm free. “Stop with your silly pranks. This isn’t high school, Amanda.”
She grabbed me again, eyes wild. “It’s true! I swear on everything. We have to go!”
Her desperation hit me harder than the bids. She looked terrified—pupils blown, hands shaking. I stopped fighting. Turned fully to face her.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll explain everything later. But we cannot stay here.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but two security guards in black tactical gear stepped into our path. One raised a hand. “She’s auction property now. No one leaves the stage until the hammer falls.”
Amanda shoved forward. “Get out of the way! All of you need to get out or this place will explode!”
The guards laughed—short, disbelieving—until Amanda pointed straight at Josh.
“By him. Josh planted the bomb.”
Every head turned.
Josh stood frozen near the pillar, face pale as bone. Sweat beaded on his forehead, rolling down his temples. His black leather mask suddenly looked too tight, too small for the panic blooming beneath it.
“I… I have no bomb here,” he stammered. “She’s lying. She’s crazy.”
The guards moved. Fast. One grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. The other patted him down roughly. Josh yelped, legs buckling.
“Check his pockets!” Amanda shouted. “He’s got the detonator!”
The taller guard reached into Josh’s jacket. Pulled out a slim black remote—red button glowing faintly under the spotlights.
The room went deathly quiet.
Then chaos.
Guests screamed. Tables overturned. Champagne towers crashed in glittering waterfalls. Security flooded the floor, rifles raised. Generals barked orders into earpieces. Diplomats bolted for exits.
Josh thrashed. “It’s not armed! It’s a bluff! I swear!”
Before anyone could respond, a new voice pierced the pandemonium.
“Get away from my brother!”
Isabella stormed onto the stage like a hurricane in black silk. Her heels struck wood like hammer blows. Makeup still flawless, eyes blazing with fury. She shoved past a guard, placing herself between Josh and the security team.
“He’s not a terrorist, don’t you dare touch my brother !”she snapped while crying and her breath was frantic shocking the hell out of everyone right there