Page 2 of Auctioned to the Titan

I need you to help me cover my shift for a while. Everything will be all right if you just do whatever Mr. Kirk tells you.

My skin turns to ice, my heart beats so loud it threatens to explode in my chest, and I’m weak in the knees.

This can’t be real.

My panic turns to desperation. I clasp my hands together in a prayer and plead with Mr. Kirk, “Please. There has to be another way. I can work—anything.”

Mr. Kirk’s smile doesn’t falter as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear; I can’t help but jerk away, causing his smile to thin and his eyes to turn to ice. My dinner threatens to resurface, and I swallow it back down. “You’ll work, all right, just not in the way you’d hoped.”

The bored-looking man steps closer. “We don’t have time to make her look…presentable, Mr. Kirk.”

He frowns and looks at me from top to bottom then sighs. “It’s fine. Just give her the most revealing outfit we have. Her father said she’s a virgin. If the bidding is low, use that card.”

I gasp and take a step back.

“You can either do this the easy way or the hard way. But trust me, you will do it either way.” With that, Mr. Kirk leaves.

In a daze, I’m forced into an outfit and placed in line with the other girls. It all happens so fast that my mind can’t keep up.

“I heard Demon Damon would be bidding tonight,” one of the girls beside me murmurs in a low voice.

“What! He’s never even been to an auction before. Why would he be here tonight and bidding?”

The girl who spoke shrugs. “I don’t know. Something about Kirk wanting to solidify their partnership. But the reason doesn’t matter. What Idoknow is I don’t want to be auctioned to him.”

“I don’t think I’d mind,” a girl who looks to be several years older than me speaks up. “Have you seen him? All that brutish attitude might give a fantastic fuck.” I flinch at her words, and she laughs, mockingly.

As she opens her mouth to say something else, another door opens, and I’m pushed forward.

I stumble, try to turn back, but there’s no escape. The last thing I see before they push me further onto the stage is the cold, unyielding smile on Kirk’s face. And then I’m out there, under the lights, with a room full of predators waiting to pounce.

The moment I step onto the stage, the blinding lights hit my face, and I freeze.

I can barely see anything beyond the brightness, but I canfeelthe eyes on me—hundreds of them. My heart pounds in my chest, a frantic drumbeat that drowns out every logical thought.

Run. Run now.

I could bolt into the crowd, scream for help, tell the people in the audience that I’m doing this under coercion.

Run.

But I can’t. My feet won’t move even though the hands of the men who shoved me onto this stage are gone. I’ve heard enough stories about Mr. Kirk to know that running wouldn’t make this go away. It’ll only put my life in danger and my father's, too.

I’m paralyzed to the spot and tears gather in my eyes. I want to cry, scream, wail, do something. Anything. But I can’t. My body doesn’t move.

Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, my gaze locks on a man sitting near the front of the room. Where he’s seated is dimly lit but even from a distance, I can make out his sharp, chiseled jawline, hard as stone, like it’s never softened for a smile. His black hair, short and perfectly styled, glints under the dim lights, but it’s his eyes that lock me in place. Dark, intense, and piercing, they seem to see straight through me, as if stripping away every layer of my being. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t look away.

His lips, set in a firm, unreadable line, hint at a man who doesn’t tolerate defiance. Everything about him is cold, controlled, and yet somehow magnetic. I should look away. I should be afraid. But all I can do is stand there, rooted to the spot, trapped in his gaze.

The moment stretches on, tense and suffocating, until I can hardly breathe.

He doesn’t move. He just… watches me. And God help me, Idon’t wantto look away.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer’s voice rings out, breaking the silence. “Our next offering is something quite special. A rare find, indeed.”

The sound of his voice snaps me back to reality, and I feel the blood drain from my face. Offering. Like I’m some kind of… product.

The audience murmurs with interest, and I hear someone call out, “She looks pretty basic to me.”

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