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Until, to my utter horror, Knox took his last swig of his drink, set it down, and raised his hand.
“Five million.”
The room tumbled into a silence so absolute, I might have heard the slightest flutter of Thistle’s lashes as she blinked over at Knox, that wild desperation still in her beautiful violet eyes.
I barely heard what was being spoken. “…Thistle Maverick sold to Knox Wilde for…” The Auctioneer stumbled over his own words. “Five million dollars.”
And with that.
It was over.
I felt like I was careening into freefall, my lips parted in shock, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.
No…
He knew. He had to know. But what was he going to do with an Omega—myOmega…?
That wasn’t a question I was ready to answer.
Hehatedpeople, hated if anyone but me stepped foot past the ballrooms of the home.
Once he’d caught a wandering drunk during a party, and he’d lost it, dragging the man back and slitting his throat to bleed out into the champagne punch for every guest to see.
Without a word, and ignoring the room full of degenerates who were all staring his way, Knox got to his feet. Adjusting his Rolex absently, he strode to the door with an air of utter indifference. He paused beside me long enough to reach up and pluck the folded handkerchief from my breast pocket.
His voice was low as he stepped by, loud enough only for me. “You’ll be travelling home by yourself, Rogue. I’d like to be alone when I bring my Omega home.”
THREE
KNOX
I knew what to expect. I attended these auctions sporadically so that my image remained intact, but it had been too long since I’d made a purchase. The last had been over a year before; a pretty Omega male in his twenties, but he hadn’t been spotted with me for a long time now. Long enough that an assumption of his demise wouldn’t be out of the question for most here.
I had a reputation for being extravagant, erratic and violent, and while tonight was motivated by none of the above, it did serve to maintain my image. An image I kept at the cost of everything else in this world that might have been mine: connection, sanity, even the very morality I slowly died to protect.
I was made of nothing but discipline and fury as I lingered in hell waiting for demons to drop their masks.
That drive was all I had left.
That, and watching the slow destruction of Rogue, to which I thoughtthismust be the final nail in the coffin.
Beneath the canopy of overhanging trees, I watched as they brought her out.
The auctioneer, Patrick Christensen, and two bouncers were her escort. I leaned against the side of my limo, door open and waiting, as they hauled her toward me.
She should be the picture of subservience, bound and wearing a gown of white lace, sheer enough to reveal the strips of fabric barely covering her beneath.
A sweet little Omega doll, dressed to be fucked, with a chain around her neck.
But her straight, raven hair flew wildly about, and violet eyes burned as she struggled against the Alphas holding her. I cocked my head as I watched her fight, finding an unexpected reverence at fearlessness I knew wasn’t easy to come by from her vantage.
The cold concrete was frigid beneath my knees as I kept my eyes on the floor. An icy chain bound my throat. I didn’t hear their words, but I heard the metal clink as it was passed to another.
Silence and obedience… I’d had it beaten into me, and now I clung to that, a prayer that it would be enough to keep me safe.
Thistle Maverick, it seemed, had learned no such lesson, and I couldn’t rip my gaze away as the auctioneer drew up before me and offered a pathetic bow.
Thistle, however, froze as she neared.
