His eyes lazily swept across the crowded auction room, the burn of the bourbon still lingering on his tongue, a fiery reminder of the night’s excess. The clink of glasses, the murmurs of anticipation, and the rhythmic chant of the auctioneer blended into a meaningless hum around him.

"$400k!" the auctioneer shouted, his voice cutting through the air. But none of it mattered to him. Not the wealth, not the power these men wielded in this dark, secretive world.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily as the auction continued. Girls, barely old enough to grasp the horror of their reality, were paraded in front of the crowd, sold to the highest bidder. He massaged his temple, trying to ease the guilt gnawing at his conscience. Poor girls, he thought bitterly. Each face blurred into the next—eyes hollow, fear palpable in the air.

Until one of them broke through his detachment.

His gaze sharpened as the next figure stepped onto the stage. There was something about her—standing tall despite the chains that bound her wrists.

Before he even realized what he was doing, his hand shot into the air. "$1 million," he declared, his voice cutting through the room with a cold finality.

The murmurs stopped. Even the auctioneer faltered for a brief second, his practiced facade slipping. He barely noticed, though. His focus was entirely on the girl on the stage, making him set down the glass of amber liquid swirling one last time before coming to a rest.