Bonds at War: The Untouched is Mine novel Chapter 300

Chapter 300 A Million Dollars

LUNA

The other women here were all excited. They wore glitter and perfume, fixed their hair in front of the mirror, laughing like they were preparing for a night out.

Meanwhile, I was terrified.

I kept tugging on the hem of my white costume–a cheap dress someone had thrown on me earlier. It barely fit, or maybe it was meant to be that way.

I didn’t even know what I was doing here. One moment, I was knocked out in the diner, and the next moment I opened my eyes, I was now in this club.

“Damn,” someone said behind me. “Your boobs and ass are thick for someone as thin as you. Your face is angelic, too.”

I froze.

“This angel costume suits you well.”

My eyes widened. I turned around and found a woman grinning at me, lipstick smeared from eating chips straight out of the bag. She was beautiful–tall, with glossy hair and sharp eyes.

“I’m Vicky,” she said. “What’s your name, angel?”

“Luna,” I muttered.

“Pretty name,” she said between bites. “Do you come here often?”

“No.”

“Oh, bummer.” She shrugged. “The people pay well here. Aside from the principal payment, they give you tips. I love being auctioned here.”

I frowned. “Principal payment?”

“Yeah.” She smiled at me like it was the most normal thing in the world. “They pay you before coming here. The owner’s nice like that.”

“I didn’t get paid.”

Her brows lifted. “Really? That’s weird. Everyone does.”

My chest went cold when the realization hit me. I felt myself growing more disgusted.

It must be Queenie.

No wonder she told me to stay in the diner a little while longer. She’d always hated me; however, I didn’t think her hatred was so intense that she’d sell me off.

1 gripped the thin fabric of the dress. “Does everyone here get auctioned off?”

Vicky nodded casually. “Yeah. The owner’s hot, too. Sometimes he bids himself. You’d be lucky if he does.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. He pays more than the others.”

“What happens if you get sold?” I muttered, feeling dread fill the pit of my stomach.

“We get fucked most of the time. We suck them off. We eat with them right after. All that jazz.”

I couldn’t breathe properly. How could she talk about such things so lightly? I didn’t want to lose my virginity in this place.

My pulse quickened. “What happens if you don’t want to go?”

She stopped eating the chips before breaking out into laughter.

“You can’t say no, angel. Once you’re on the list, you’re on it, You signed the form, right?”

Form?

I shook my head. “No. I didn’t sign anything.”

She frowned. “Then how’d you get here?”

I couldn’t answer. I just kept staring at her, trying to piece everything together.

“Don’t worry. You’ll fit right in here. Let’s just hope that you get auctioned off to a sexy man.”

Vicky checked the clock. “Anyway, good luck. You’re the ender tonight.”

“The what?”

“The last one.” She winked. “Enders usually get the highest bids. My turn now. Bye!”

And just like that, she walked out–hips swaying as the door opened and closed behind her.

I was left alone in the dressing room. My heartbeat was so loud it almost drowned out the sound of clapping outside.

What was this place?

I needed to leave.

Now.

I grabbed the edge of the vanity for balance, my knees weak. I tried to remember the way in- that long hallway, the heavy doors, the man with the clipboard. If I could just reach the exit, I could-

“Where are you going?”

A hand clamped around my wrist.

“I–I need air,” I stammered.

“Not yet.”

Two men in black uniforms stood behind me. They looked like security built like walls. One of them pulled something from his belt before cold metal closed around my wrists with a click.

“Hey!” I struggled, panic bursting in my chest. “You can’t-”

“Orders,” one said flatly. “You’re up next.”

“What orders? I didn’t agree to this! I didn’t—”

He pushed me forward. I stumbled, my bare feet sliding against the smooth floor. The sound of the crowd grew louder. My heart raced so fast it hurt.

“Please,” I whispered. “There’s been a mistake. I don’t belong here.”

But no one listened.

They led me down a narrow corridor lit by red and gold lights. I could hear the host’s voice echoing from the stage.

“And for our final price tonight…‘

I dug my heels into the floor, but the man behind me shoved me again. The curtain parted, and a burst of light blinded me.

“She’s too disobedient, though,” he said into the mic, pulling me back to the center of the stage. “She might need a little… correction.”

I didn’t even get the chance to finish my statement of defiance because he tipped the liquid into my mouth.

The liquid was sweet and bitter at the same time. My throat burned as I swallowed. Within seconds, the room started to dance around me.

I tried to focus, but the lights smeared into colors. My hands slipped from my chest. I stumbled, my knees giving way, and slumped onto the floor.

The light caught my face, hot and white. I could barely keep my eyes open.

“Aw,” the host said, crouching beside me. “That’s better. Look how peaceful she looks.”

And then-

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” a voice said.

Everything stopped. Heads turned toward the back.

The host was caught off guard. “I’m sorry, sir? Five hundred?”

“Thousand,” the man repeated. “Cash.”

A collective gasp rolled through the room.

The host straightened, adjusting his tic. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have half a million from our… oh- from our very own owner, Damon!”

No. No, I needed to leave. I tried to move, but my body wouldn’t respond.

Damon.

Was that the same man Vicky mentioned?

No. Please, no.

I tried to lift my head. The lights were too bright, burning my eyes. My wrists hurt. The cuffs bit into my skin every time I tried to move.

“I…” My voice cracked. “I don’t want this.”

But it was too soft. The microphone didn’t catch it. No one cared.

The host was grinning again. “Half a million from Damon, going once-”

Before he could finish, another voice cut through the air.

“One million dollars.”

It was deeper and quieter, but somehow, it rang louder than any other bid tonight.

The entire room turned.

I forced my eyes open, trying to see through the haze. In the far corner of the room, someone stood.

He wasn’t seated like the rest. He was standing–tall, broad–shouldered, his entire frame almost too big for the space he was in. His face was hidden by shadow, the brim of a cap or hood concealing his features.

But I could see his shape. The lines of muscle beneath his dress shirt and the way his jaw flexed when he spoke.

He lifted his hand; and the crowd went silent.

“… A million,” he said again.