Chapter 3: The Auction.

The market swarms with rackets of voices, a chaotic symphony that assaults the senses under the relentless afternoon sun. Merchants yelling trying to sell their wares. The sound of Iron cages clanged as handlers push and pull on the captives, chains scraping harshly against the rough stone floor of the clearing. The air thick with the metallic smell of blood, the acrid bite of sweat, and the underlying musk of raw fear, all mingling in a heady fog that clings to everything.

Creatures of all sorts filled the space—hulking wolves with dirty fur and snarling muzzles, sly rogues slinking through the crowd with opportunistic grins, weathered traders clutching ledgers stained with ink and grime, and battle-scarred mercenaries eyeing the lots with predatory calculation. At the heart of it all rose a weathered wooden platform, splintered and stained from countless sales, where the auctioneer—a wiry man with a sweat-slicked brow—bellowed the day's offerings to the eager crowd.

Today's merchandise ranged from the mundane to the exotic: a snarling wolf pup collared in silver, fetched for a pouch of shining coins after a heated bidding war; a group of elven scouts, their slender forms bound and gagged, sold off in pairs to a band of orcish traders for labor in distant mines.

The crowd surged with each hammer's sound, laughter erupting as a particularly feisty fae sprite bit her handler, only to be subdued with a sharp lash that drew thin lines of blood across her shimmering wings.

Tucked near the back, among the smaller, less glamorous cages, stood Maria. Barefoot on the cold stone, her soles crusted with the market's filth, she bore the weight of iron cuffs locked around her wrists, the metal biting into her pale skin with every little shift. Long dark hair cascaded like a tangled veil over her shoulders, framing a face that spoke of quiet endurance—high cheekbones sharp as carved marble, soft lips pressed into a line that had long forgotten the curve of a smile. Dirt marked her arms and neck, but it couldn't cover the ethereal sharpness of her features, nor the storm-grey eyes that stared blankly ahead, empty as a sky before the tempest.

She didn't react as the cage beside hers creaked open, the young girl inside dragged out by her hair, her sobs piercing the din like shattered glass.

The auctioneer throws the child forward on the platform, his voice booming: "Lot twelve—a fresh virgin from the border villages, untouched and pliant! Starting at fifty silvers!" Bids flew thick and fast, rough hands gesturing, voices rising in a frenzy until a grizzled mercenary claimed her for two hundred, hauling her away with a triumphant stare.

Maria remained apart from it all, her gaze fixed on nothing, her body a statue among the chaos. She was not truly here; her mind had retreated to a fragile sanctuary, where her father's voice whispered like a fading echo: One breath to numb the hurt... Her fingers twitched faintly against the chains, a ghost of resistance, as another lot—a burly half-orc with defiant eyes—was paraded and sold for his brute strength.

The rhythm of the auction continued on, the auctioneer wiping sweat from his eyes as he called the next: "Lot fifteen—a siren from the deep sea’s, voice like honeyed venom! Who'll start the bid?" The crowd leaned in, murmurs rippling.

Then the air shifted. It wasn't abrupt, but insidious—a subtle hush creeping through the edges of the crowd, like the first rumble of distant thunder.

Voices trailed off mid-sentence. Heads turned, necks craning. Even the rowdiest wolves fell silent, their ears pricking. Ladies in silken veils cast sidelong glances laced with hunger, while mercenaries straightened, hands drifting to hilts. The auctioneer's words faltered, his hammer hovering mid-air as a solid tension coiled through the clearing, thick as smoke.

A long shadow stretched across the platform, cooling the sun-baked stones. And then they appeared.

The Lycan twins.

They didn't announce themselves with fanfare or thunderous steps; their presence alone commanded the space, an invisible force that bent the world around them. Power emanated from their forms in suffocating waves, pressing down on the crowd like the weight of an unseen storm.

Aries Valerius led the way, his towering frame cutting through the press of bodies with effortless authority. Clothed in sleek black attire that absorbed the sunlight like a void, he moved with composed precision, his expression an unyielding mask of stone. Silver-blue eyes swept the market in a cool arc of disdain, cataloging the chaos without a flicker of interest.

At his side strode Dante Valerius, a stark contrast in his relaxed grace. He walked with a relaxed poise, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if the entire spectacle amused him. His golden eyes sparkled with a dangerous glint, promising mischief wrapped in menace.

Their Beta and a group of guards trailed in their wake, armored shadows that drew no attention. Every eye in the market followed the twins, the auction forgotten in an instant.

The auctioneer swallowed hard, as he descended the platform in a hasty bow, nearly tripping over his own feet. "My Lords," he stammered, voice cracking with forced deference, "this is an honor beyond words. The finest lots await your—"

Aries did not spare him a glance, his focus already dissecting the scene with predatory efficiency.

Dante drew in a casual breath, savoring the market's scents like a connoisseur—until it hit.

He froze mid-step, the faint smile evaporating from his face like mist under flame.

Aries halted in perfect sync, his body going rigid as if struck by an unseen blade.

The world narrowed to a pinpoint, the clamor fading into irrelevance. A scent pierced through the stench—sharp as lightning, ancient as forgotten ruins. Not the familiar scent of wolf or Lycan. Something ancient. Something utterly forbidden.

Dante's whisper sliced the silence, barely audible yet laced with urgency. "Brother..."

Aries's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. "I feel it."

The twin bond beats between them, a violent surge of shared instinct that set their blood alight. Their eyes darkened, pupils dilating as every sense honed to a razor's edge.

Predator.

Claim.

Mate.

No words passed between them; none were needed. As one, they turn, their gazes locking onto the source amid the rear cages.

There she stood.

Maria.

Unmoving, as if carved from the stone itself. Lifeless in her stillness, her storm-grey eyes half-lidded in great indifference, as though the teeming world beyond her bars held no more intrigue than dust motes in the air.The moment her scent fully hit them, it broke something deep inside.

Not easy. Not quiet.

It ripped through their chests like a sharp knife.

Mate.

Dante pulled in a slow breath, his lungs filling with that wild pull.

Aries balled his hands into tight fists, knuckles turning white.

Across the dusty clearing, Maria's heart jumped, Just one beat, hard and fast. Her eyelashes fluttered, a tiny shake in her still face.

Something twisted inside her gut.

Strange.

Raw.

Pulling at her like a hook.

For the first time since she was a kid, small and scared—

She lifted her head.

Her storm-grey eyes locked on silver-blue.

Then shifted to gold.

The whole world went dead quiet around her.

The auctioneer cleared his throat and started up again, clueless to the shift.

"And here's a quiet catch! Rare looks. Tough family line. Bids start at—"

"Who," Aries cut in, his voice steady but the air shaking like it might split, "locked her in that cage?"

The market froze solid.

No one moved. No one whispered.

The auctioneer tripped over his words. "Sh-she came from the western rogue territories, my Lord. Traded in last night."

Dante's smile crept back, but not funny anymore, rather hungry.

Scary as hell.

"She smells off," he said low, like sharing a dark joke. "Like something hidden away."

Maria kept her eyes on them.

No spark of knowing.

No warmth.

Just ice-cold hate burning in her stare.

Wolves.

Her fingers curled slowly against the rough bars.

Forget all the hate...

Her old lullaby hummed in her head, soft and broken.

Her wolf, buried deep for years, twitched like it might wake.

Aries took a step closer to the cages.

Every nerve in him yelled to smash the whole place down.

Rip apart anyone staring at her.

Shatter the iron holding her.

Dante leaned in toward his brother, voice a murmur. "Can't cause a mess here. Not yet."

Aries growled low, barely a sound. "I'll pay for her. Clean and done."

Dante let out a rough chuckle. "Nah."

His gold eyes flashed bright. "We both will."

Up on the platform, the auctioneer banged his gavel, sweat dripping down his neck as he pushed the bids.

"Fifty gold! Do I hear sixty? A fighter like this—" But the crowd stayed shut. No hands raised. No voices called out.

Because when the Lycan twins wanted something, it was gone before the hammer fell.

Maria watched them approach, her pulse thumping louder than the chains still biting her skin.

For the first time in forever, her blood ran hot under the dirt.

She didn't get it.

Didn't know what they were to her.

But deep in her bones, a voice scratched out—

This ain't the end of the pain.

This is the start of hell.

Then a rough shout broke from the left side of the platform.

"Ten thousand gold!"

A big Alpha from a southern pack shoved forward, his meaty frame blocking the sun, eyes glued to Maria with a greedy squint.

"She'll breed strong pups," he added, smirking wide, teeth yellowed and sharp.

The market dropped into a hush so thick you could cut it.

Dante turned his head slow, like a wolf spotting prey.

Aries didn't budge, but the air turned cold, biting at the skin.

The Alpha laughed awkwardly. “Surely the Lycans aren’t interested in a broken slave?”

Dante smiled.

Softly.

“Oh, we are very interested.”

He didn't rush.

Just blurred out of sight.

A quick gust of wind, gone in a blink.

And then—

The Alpha dangled in the air, feet kicking dirt. Dante's hand clamped his thick throat, fingers digging in like claws, the crowd sucked in a breath, eyes wide.

Dante's gold eyes lit up faintly, glowing in the shadows. "Big error," he said, voice gentle as a blade sliding home.

Crack.

The Alpha's neck gave way, bones snapping clean.

Dante let the body hit the floors with a wet thud.

Blood sprayed out, dark and sticky, pooling under the platform.

The market locked in fear, no screams, just heavy quiet.

Aries moved up, his words ice and command. "No one talks about her. Ever."

Breaths held. No pushback.

The auctioneer's hands shook so bad the gavel rattled.

"S-sold to the Lycan Lords," he choked out, voice cracking.

The cage door groaned open, hinges squealing. Maria stayed put, body rigid.

A guard fumbled with the key, hesitating before twisting it. The iron cuffs dropped from her wrists, clanging dull on the stone.

Aries closed in first, Steps slow. Controlled. Like a hunter circling.

Up close, she hit harder, skin pale as fresh snow under the grime. Dark hair spilling wild around her face. Storm-grey eyes flat, no terror in them. Just void. And a knife-edge hate underneath.

He stopped inches away, close enough to feel her heat.

The mate pull hammers between them, hot and fierce.

Dante slid to her other side, flanking her tight.

"So still," he muttered, voice rough.

Aries lifted a hand, his fingers grazed her wrist, light as a touch. Everything blew apart.

The bond locked in full, slamming home.

Power rushed through them all, wild and electric.

Maria sucked in a sharp gasp, her back bowed, body jerking as something old and fierce roared up in her ribs.

Aries went stiff, muscles locking. Dante's eyes went wide for a beat.

The air sparked around them, thick with charge. Storm winds. Flashes of light. Raw power untamed.

Maria's grey eyes flickered—Not just grey.

For a heartbeat—Silver mixed with gold.

Both at once.

The twins sensed it hit, not only mate, not a plain wolf.

Deeper. Riskier.

Maria yanked her arm back fast. Before they could blink—She swung her hand and slapped Aries square across the face.

The smack rang out, sharp over the platform, gasps spread through the crowd like fire. Guards gripped weapons, ready.

Dante stared, caught off guard. Aries turned his head slow, the spot on his cheek turning red.

Maria's voice scraped out, rough and poisoned. "Keep your hands off me."

The market tensed, waiting for the kill.

No one slapped a Lycan Lord and walked away.

But Ares didn't strike back. He looked at her. No rage. No slight, but something heavier. Owning.

Dante started laughing, deep and thrilled.

"Damn, I like this one."

Maria's breaths came ragged now. The bond throbbed in her chest, a burn she couldn't shake.

She loathed it. Loathed them. Wolves. Beasts.

They wrecked everything.

"I'll never be yours," she spat, voice like frost.

Aries leaned in closer.

So near only she heard.

"You are. Already."

The words crawled down her back.

Not scared.

Like she knew it deep.

Dante bent toward her ear from the other side.

"Fight all you want," he breathed. "Makes it better."

Maria's jaw locked tight.

In her head—

One to numb the hurt...

But the words fell flat now.

The cold shell cracked open.

Something strong scratched to break free.

The rogue's snarl echoed from her dark dreams.

You'll do.

And for the first time—

She wondered.

Was she really the one being claimed?

Or had they just made the biggest mistake of their lives?