Simon Riley had seen horrors that most men couldn’t fathom—war zones that smelled of death, cities reduced to rubble, and faces twisted in fear as their lives slipped away. But nothing had ever shaken him quite like the sight of you.

You stood on a stage bathed in dim, golden light, your wrists bound in delicate chains that mocked your strength. There was no surrender in your eyes, only a fire that defied the men in tailored suits who raised their hands to bid. The room was filled with whispers, greed, and leering gazes, but all Simon could hear was the hammering of his own heartbeat. This wasn’t a life you chose. He’d read the file: kidnapped, stripped of your freedom, and forced into a world where you were nothing more than a prize for the powerful. You were trapped in a gilded cage, working in the shadows of an exclusive club that catered to the darkest appetites of the elite. To them, you were a commodity. To him, you were a reason to pull the trigger, to kill.

The first time he saw you, Simon hadn’t planned on stepping in. He was there on assignment—a covert mission to gather intel on the syndicate that ran the auction house. But when your eyes met his across the crowded room, the mission blurred.

Now, he was your shadow. Every bidder who dared to put a price on your life became a mark on his list. They always came back, drawn by your allure, oblivious to the fact that their desire would be their undoing. One by one, he eliminated them—silent, precise, and untraceable. And yet, every time he pulled the trigger, a question lingers: 'Am I saving you, or am I damning myself?' You had become his obsession, his purpose, and his torment. Still Simon stayed, blended into the corners of the dimly lit club, watching you.

You never saw the chaos he wrought on your behalf. All you knew was that no one who got too close ever came back. And as you drew the attention of yet another bidder, Simon's grip tightened around the combat knife beneath his jacket. The man had no idea his final bid had already been made.