Page 99 of No Mistakes
“Check your corners,” Flynn’s voice comes through, low and grounding. “Who’s around you?”
I let my eyes flick left, then right. A man with slicked-back hair and a ring on every finger leans towards his companion, whispering something that makes them both laugh. On my other side, a woman in a sequinned dress is already sipping her champagne, her eyes sharp even as she smiles at a waiter, gesturing for another glass.
“Mixed crowd,” I whisper into the mic, keeping my lips still so it looks like I’m only shifting my jaw. “Not just men.”
“Good,” Axel says. “Makes you less noticeable.”
If only that were true. Every nerve in my body is wired tight, like they can all see through me, like they know I don’t belong amongst them. I grip the paddle tighter, pressing the number into my palm until it hurts, reminding mewhyI am here.
The chatter grows as more seats fill, an orchestra of muffled greed and anticipation. My throat goes dry, and I reach for a glass of champagne as a waiter walks by. I think of the girls in the back somewhere, waiting to be paraded out in front of the pack of wolves, and how scared they must be feeling.
A bell chimes overhead, taking command of the room. The lights dim instantly, the chandeliers fading into shadows as a spotlight hits the podium.
A man steps into the light, his suit pressed to perfection, his stride confident. But it’s not his clothes that make the room fall silent, it’s his mask. Black, featureless, moulded to his face so not a single trace of his identity is revealed.
He takes his place at the podium, his gloved hands gripping either side with casual authority. When he speaks, the distortion from the microphone paired with the hollow mask makes his voice sound colder, mechanical, like it’s stripped of humanity.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” his words roll through the ballroom, and everyone is entranced by him. “Welcome. Tonight, you have the privilege of participating in one of the mostexclusiveauctions in the world.”
A ripple of polite applause cuts through the air, people cheering at the fact that they’re welcomed into this space.
“You’ve all been vetted,” the masked man continues, tilting his head slightly as his head sweeps the crowd. “You’ve all earned your seats here. And tonight… You will have the chance to walk away with something-” he pauses, looking behind him towards the curtain. “-orsomeone-extraordinary.”
The sequinned woman beside me lets out a small laugh, tapping her paddle against her thigh like she’s itching for the show to start.
“The rules are simple,” the host says, his voice sharper. “Raise your paddle to bid. Payment is expected in full before departure. Any attempt to disrupt…will not be tolerated.” He holds his head high as he examines the room, letting the threat linger.
With a flick of his gloved hand, he snaps his fingers. Two guards move to the velvet curtains at the back of the stage, pulling them apart in one clean motion.
The spotlight moves, beaming towards the now open curtain where the first girl steps out.
“Let the show begin.” The masked man announces, his arms spreading wide as if he’s presenting treasure. “Our first lot of the evening,” he says smoothly, “a fine example of youth and beauty.”
The young girl is dragged forward. She can’t be older than nineteen. Her shoulders shake under the harsh light, her hands twisted together in front of her like they might shield her. Her dress, a pale piece of fabric, hangs over her frame like it doesn’t belong to her.
“Imported from overseas,” the host continues, his tone calm, professional, utterly detached. “She’s been trained in etiquette. Clean, untouched. A perfect addition for anyone seeking obedience without complication.”
A laugh rises from the crowd, followed by the subtle lift of paddles. My lungs lock. My nails digging into the smooth wood of my own paddle, every muscle in my body screaming to move, to drag her off that stage and out of this hell.
“Shall we start the bidding at twenty?” the masked man asks, urging the crowd on.
Paddles rise without hesitation.
“Twenty. Do I have twenty-five?”
Another paddle shoots up, and the girl swallows hard, her eyes darting across the crowd while the light beams into her face, blinding her, and her lips tremble.
My pulse thunders so hard I can barely hear the numbers climbing.
“Fifty. Do I have fifty-five?”
The crowd responded like wolves fighting over scraps, people fighting over the young woman. I force my hand to stay on my lap, my jaw clenched so tight it aches.
“This is what you’re here for,” Axel’s voice says through my earpiece, “Keep your cover, Mandy. Wait for the right moment.”
The auction grinds on, each lot presented like jewellery. Girls and boys paraded in front of the crowd under the cold bite of the spotlight. Some stare blankly at the floor, already hollowed out. Others flinch at every laugh, every clap, their fear rolling off them in waves.
Each time, the masked host delivers the details with a calm, steady voice.
