[HAZEL'S POV]

Cough! Cough! Cough!

It's cold. And it's dark. Rats scurried around my cell, squeaking noisily around me.

I tightened my blanket around me tighter to keep me warm but it was no good.

Cough! Cough! Cough!

The kid opposite me lay on her back, coughing helplessly. I've also caught the cold myself but mine wasn't as chronic as hers.

She won't last long. They'd dispose of her soon.

I coughed and winced as my stomach growled.

I was hungry but the Slave Master chose not to give my rations because today, I was going to get a new master.

Suddenly I heard his heavy footsteps thudding towards my cell. I knew this day would come.

I wasn't expecting it to be today. He stopped before me—The Slave Master.

I've never met anyone so ugly and terrifying. Men with faces like his should be locked up in the house of horrors.

How I ended up in his hands still remained a dream to me—No this was no dream. It was a nightmare.

A nightmare I've come to accept.

The Slave Master opened my cell and stepped in, gazing down at me in a greedy way that sent chills down my spine.

"It's about time you get shown to our guests, baby," he leaned forward, passing his tongue across thick lips. Then he fondled me.

I could've resisted but what good would it do? I already knew what would happen if I put up resistance.

The Slave Master was a man of little patience. He was always quick with his fists and whip.

I've seen what he did to a stubborn girl who tried to resist him.

She didn't live to tell the tale. He killed her with his bare hands like a bug.

I allowed him fondled me but he wasn't touching me to feel aroused.

He was appraising me, his merchandise, before he brought me out to the market to be sold to my new master.

"Firm youthful breasts," he nodded, squeezing my breasts. "Curvy waist, flawless skin, round ass. Still a virgin. Yup, except for a few bruises, you'll fetch me a good price out there. Come on, stand up."

I slowly stood to my feet while he feasted his eyes over me.

Despite his brutal nature, The Slave Master never made a move on me.

Rather he tortures me with his whip just like he does with the other slaves.

I hated it. I hated it because he held my freedom.

For that, I hated him but not as much as I hated the man who ruined my whole life.

Minutes later, I was put on shackles on my wrists and neck.

There was an evil glitter in his eyes as he dragged me away in chains to be sold.

Chattering of men ahead of me raised my anxiety. I could smell cigarette smoke, body sweats and beer lingering in the air.

The lights at the end of the corner brought me into a crowded underground auction.

A cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air and I could make out men and women moving about in their coats and suits.

The Slave Master dragged me towards a raised platforms where a girl, stripped to her skin was being purchased.

I looked at her new owner and his face filled me with dread.

He was made of pounds and pounds of fats but that wasn't the worse side of him.

It was the cruelty I saw in his eyes. He held more cruelty than The Slave Master.

This made my heart pound hard against my ribs and my blood ran cold.

I suddenly became afraid.

I desperately wished for my freedom—but most importantly, I didn't want to be sold to a creep like that.

"You're up, baby," The Slave Master pushed me on the platform. A spotlight flashed down upon me.

I raised my eyes and caught my breath at the hundreds of eyes staring at me with interest.

This was a place where lives were bidded and bought. This was my end. I can't do this anymore.

Someone should please save me. I want my freedom.

I hadn't realized when The Slave Master came up to me and tore my clothes off, exposing my youthful body underneath a transparent gown before the eyes of these men.

The gown was as transparent as a glass and I could feel the men's gazes burning on my skin.

The hall erupted in a maddening chatter as they ogled me with their eyes.

"Fuck. Check out that dish."

"Look at the tits on her."

"She's perfect. That hair, that skin. She's a rare breed."

"Slaves like these are seen on the market once in a lifetime."

"I'll make her my sex slave. I've got big ideas about her."

I didn't move, I didn't make an effort to hide my shame.

The Slave Master was nearby and he held his spiked whip.

My intuition told me he wouldn't hesitate to use that whip on me if I caused him any trouble.

And so I stood there, my head bowed, tears filling my eyes as I waited hopelessly for my salvation.

"She's a virgin, y'all," the host announced. "We start at $1 million. Did I hear $1 million?"

Bids were called and voices were raised in competition over whom would buy me.

I couldn't believe it. A million dollars? Was I really worth all that money?

The bids went up.

5 million, 6 million.....8 million. Eventually the bidding stopped at $11 million . No one could bid higher than that.

To my horror, the man whom had bidded 11 million was the fat creepy man.

I felt my heart jumped to my throat and I immediately lost my colour.

No! Not him. Dear God, please anyone but him.

He came up towards the platform, his hands laced over his bulging belly, his eyes filled with lust and a maddening desire to torture me.

He grinned knowingly at me, showing his yellow stained teeth. "You're mine now. I'll turn you into a big slut after I must've taste what you're like in my bed."

Who was this guy? He scares me. I never want to belong to this old fat pig.

The host announced. "Gregory Herman bids $11 million dollars. Going once, going twice...."

I shut my eyes and cried, my nails digging into my palms. This is the end. I'm done for. Dad, please save me!

"$50 million dollars," someone announced, his voice breaking into the noisy hall.

Like a switch had been turned off, the auction hall suddenly fell silent.

Everyone turned, me included to the VIP section upstairs.

He crushed his cigarette on the ash tray then took his refilled glass of wine and sipped from it.

His movements were slow and unhurried. Then he stood up and repeated himself.

"$50 million dollars. Any monkey who dares to outbid me? I welcome a little challenge."

No one said anything. They were either too shocked or too scared to place anymore bids.

The host announced, banging the gravel nervously. "S-sold to The Grim Reaper—Mr Nikolai Romanov."

I stared at Nikolai unblinkingly as he descended down the stairs towards the platform where I stood.

Everyone parted ways, creating a path for only him to walk through.

They were afraid of him.

He took slow calculated steps, his shoulders swaying slightly, his head held high, oozing an intimidating aura that made the other men in the room lower their heads in submission.

As he approached me, the air suddenly became charged with electricity.

He stands at 6 feet tall, with a lean but muscular build. He exuded this powerful air of quiet confidence.

Well groomed silver-white hair cascaded elegantly over his forehead, giving him a mystique look.

I've never seen anyone with such hair. He kept it short on the sides and leaves it longer on the top

But it was his eyes that caught my attention; crimson irises which threatened to pierce through anyone who met his gaze.

Then there was the faint blade scar that marred his upper lips.

I swallowed, realising my throat was as dry as a desert sand, my eyes dropping.

When I saw the cross tattoo drew across the back of his hand, I stiffened in shock.

For the first time in years, my eyes came alive and wild.

I recognized that cross tattoo on his hand. This was the exact same hands that destroyed my entire existence.

Nikolai reached out and held my throat—not tightly but hard enough to scourge my flesh.

His crimson red eyes glittered at me. "We meet again. Remember me, Princess?"

Without warning, I roared at him with a murderous rage. "You monster. I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you."