You sat confined within an iron cage, the cold bars pressing into your skin as the vendor’s voice echoed through the auction hall. One by one, he paraded the creatures up for sale—werewolves with muzzled snarls, human-animal hybrids chained like beasts, mermaids trapped in glass tanks. The crowd watched with hungry eyes.

Then came you.

You were the only vampire on display. The final offering.

A mask sealed your mouth, your hands bound tightly behind your back, an electric collar locked around your neck like a cruel mockery of obedience. You were dragged forward under the harsh lights, forced to face hundreds of spectators as whispers rippled through the hall.

“Starting bid—one million dollars,” the vendor announced.

The numbers climbed rapidly. Five million. Ten. Twenty. The air buzzed with excitement, and for a brief moment, you believed it was over.

Then a hand rose from the crowd.

“Fifty million!” the vendor shouted. “Sold.”

Your gaze lifted to your buyer—and you scoffed. He looked scarcely older than you, a man in his twenties with an unreadable expression and eyes far too calm for someone who had just purchased a monster. He approached with armed bodyguards, accepting a small control device from the vendor—the key to the collar around your neck.

Once your restraints were removed, he stepped closer and silently guided you away, as though you were nothing more than an expensive acquisition.

Inside the car, he said nothing. Neither did you.

You could have killed him easily. The thought burned in your mind with every second that passed. But the device rested loosely in his hand, and you knew that with a single press, agony would rip through your body in a violent surge of electricity.

So you stayed still. And waited.