Secured by the Buyer (Taken by His Alpha #3)

Chapter 4

4

I ’m still smiling when I step into my manager’s office and come face to face with the horror of my father’s beaten body slumped in a chair in the corner.

My heart drops as I take in the bruises on his face, one eye swollen shut, and dried blood crusts around his split lip. The stench of stale alcohol and sweat hangs heavy in the air, making it hard to breathe.

I fight to keep down the food I just ate, my stomach twisting into a sour knot.

The last time I saw him like this, he’d lost big at the tables. That’s when I started cleaning rooms at the casino to pay back what he gambled away.

As I step farther into the office, the happiness the Alpha brought a moment ago vanishes like the dream it was, leaving an empty void in its place.

“Dammit.” My voice shakes as anger bubbles up inside me. “How much did you lose this time?”

In my head, I’m already calculating how I can fit a third job into my schedule. Anything to claw our way out of this hole he keeps digging. It takes all my self-control not to scream at him, but I need to know our situation first.

“Your father lost…quite a bit,” the manager speaks up, his cold tone uncaring. “He was on a winning streak, and then bet it all on a game of craps. His luck ran out.”

My heart pounds, and I swallow hard, trying to push down the panic threatening to overwhelm me. I glare at my father, who still refuses to look at me, and resentment stings like acid.

Why do I continue to cling to a man determined to destroy us both?

I turn to the manager, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I’ll find another job. I’ll work day and night if I have to. Just tell me how much he lost.”

The manager leans back in his chair, a smug smile on his face. “Fifty thousand.”

He lets the number hang in the air, watching the color drain from my face as I sway on my feet. That’s more than last time.

More than I can make on my own.

The room spins around me as the manager’s words echo in my ears. Fifty thousand . It’s an impossible sum, and not one I can cover. They’ll cut him up and sell his organs to get back their money.

Panic sets in, and my mouth opens and closes, searching for a solution that doesn’t come.

“P-please, just give me time,” I manage, my voice cracking. “I’ll figure out how to pay it off with interest.”

The manager leans back in his chair, smirking at my vulnerability. The scent of his musky cologne fills the room and clings to the back of my throat, making me want to gag.

“Your father and I have already come to an arrangement.” His smile widens. “Not only will it cover this loss, but it’ll wipe your family’s slate clean with us.”

My stomach churns, and anger flares within me like a match thrown on gasoline. I take a step toward my father, my hands balling into fists at my sides. “Did you sell our house?”

It’s the only thing I can think of that would come close to covering the debt .

“Your house isn’t worth enough, kid.” The manager shakes his head. “Don’t worry, though. Your father found another way to settle the score.”

Shocked, my mind races through all the possible scenarios. What do we have that’s worth so much? And why is he acting so smug about it?

I glare at my father, willing him to lift his head. “What did you do?”

Two thuggish men step into the room, their bulky forms blocking the door. The sour tang of sweat and stale cigarettes drifts from them, mixing with the manager’s cologne to create a nauseating cocktail. My heart pounds, my skin prickling with fear as my focus jumps between them and my father, searching for any hint of what’s coming next.

“Your dad made a deal.” The manager smiles like the cat who caught the canary. “And now it’s time to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

The air in the room threatens to suffocate me, an invisible vice tightening around my chest.

“What did you do?” I ask again, my voice cracking on the question, and my father finally raises his head.

“It was the only way.” Glassy, defeated eyes meet mine. “It was either me or you. ”

I can’t help but choke back a bitter laugh. “So that’s it? You sold me out? To who?”

His silence is all the answer I need.

Fear takes hold, and I try to bolt, but the two burly men are faster than they appear. One of them grabs me by the arm while the other douses a cloth with a clear liquid.

My heart races with the desperation to escape. I kick out, connecting with the man’s stomach.

Winded, he grunts and glares at his partner. “Keep him still, asshole!”

With surprising force, the other man grips me so tightly that my ribs creak, pinning my arms to my sides. Panic courses through me, and I struggle against his iron grip, whipping my head from side to side.

But there’s no way out, and the first man covers my nose and mouth with the damp cloth. The world turns hazy as my desperate gasps draw in the fumes. My vision blurs, the colors bleeding together like watercolors on canvas.

My lungs scream for oxygen, but with every inhalation, the chloroform burns its way down my throat like acid. My head spins, thoughts scattering as the fight leaves me.

Lashes fluttering, I fall limp in the man’s hold.

Something bitter clings to my tongue as I groggily come back to consciousness. Like waking up with a hangover, only worse, my uncoordinated limbs heavy as lead.

My head throbs, and the faint buzzing in my ears refuses to go away.

Heavy eyelids lifting, it takes me a moment to process the dimly lit basement around me. Bars were drilled into the cement to create a prison cell.

Does a room like this exist in the casino? Or was I out long enough for them to move me to a different location?

I shiver, realizing that my maid’s uniform was stripped away while I was out, leaving me naked. I lie on a cold floor, the chill seeping into my bones and leaving me aching all over. When I touch my throat, bare skin slips under my fingers where my nape guard used to be.

My arms tremble as I push myself upright and peer around. Other Omegas huddle in this cramped cell, all of them looking as lost and frightened as I feel.

As my mind struggles to piece things together, I recall my father selling me off to pay his gambling debts. These poor souls must have been kidnapped like me. Anger boils within me, but fear soon replaces it.

“Hey.” I reach out to shake the girl beside me.

She stirs, head lifting, her expression a mix of confusion and terror. “Wh-what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” I swallow the bile pushing up my throat. “My father sold me, and I woke up here. What about you?”

“I-I was getting groceries.” Tears well up and spill down her cheeks. “I don’t remember what happened next.”

I try to wake the man next to us, but he remains unresponsive, still under the influence of whatever drugs they used on us.

The girl’s sobs grow louder, drawing unwanted attention.

Footsteps approach our cell, and she shrinks closer to me, crying harder.

“Shh,” I murmur, trying to comfort her, though I can’t keep the tremor out of my voice.

A man comes into view, tall and broad-shouldered, with slicked-back black hair and a slightly bulging belly that stretches the front of his dress shirt.

His stony gaze sweeps over us like we’re nothing more than merchandise on display. “Some of our products are awake already.” His focus settles on me. “You’ll fetch a high price.”

“Hey!” I snap, bristling with anger. “I’m not some object for you to sell!”

The man chuckles. “You are now, redhead.”

He turns and calls out to one of the big men who brought me down here. “You didn’t use enough drugs on this one. Redheads require more.”

The brute steps closer to the bars. “Should we knock him out again?”

The man shakes his head. “No time for that. We need to prep him like the others. Bring him out.”

They unlock the door and come in.

I try to fight, but the lingering effects of the chloroform left my body sluggish. The girl clings to me, screaming, but they overpower us with ease and drag me out of the cell, the girl’s cries echoing behind me.

“Let go of me, you bastards!” I shout, though it only serves to tighten their grip on me.

“Don’t bruise him,” the man in a suit reminds them. “His owner will want the pleasure of marking him up.”

They take me to another room where a pair of women wait, their expressions cold and detached. The guards release me, and I stumble forward, trying to regain my balance.

“Clean him up,” the man orders before leaving the room, the guard staying behind.

The women waste no time. They ignore my begging requests for help and work quickly, unraveling my braid and brushing out my hair until it lies in glossy waves down my back.

The other considers me for a moment. “Should we wax him like the others?”

“Boss said to leave the pubes,” he grunts. “Gotta prove he’s a real redhead.”

“Fine.” The woman pulls out a pair of scissors and trims around my groin with mechanical precision.

Shame flushes through me, hating every second of this degrading process. My thoughts race with uncertainty, wondering what will happen to me after they’re done. If I act docile, will they lower their defenses and give me a chance to escape?

I glance at the guard, who moves his jacket aside to reveal the gun at his hip.

Fists clenched, I choose to bide my time. They can’t watch me every second, right?

Once they finish with my hair and wax my arms and legs, they rub me down with a warm, fragrant oil. I shudder at their brisk, impersonal touch. Like they’re prepping a piece of meat instead of a human being.

“No time for a pedicure and manicure,” one woman mutters under her breath. “At least he’s clean.”

When the other lifts a syringe, I flinch back and the guard clears his throat in threat. She shoves the thick needle into my arm and depresses the plunger. It stings, but otherwise, I don’t feel any different.

Panic rises in my chest. “What was that?”

She doesn’t answer as she tosses the used syringe into a trash can and puts a sticker on a piece of paper.

“All done.” She hands the document over, and the guard grabs me once more.

The cold floor chills my bare feet as I’m dragged into another room, and I squint against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. This area resembles the back of a theatre stage, with heavy red drapes to the left. It reminds me of the showroom, and the memory of all those Alphas in fancy clothes takes on new meaning.

Had they come to the casino for this slave auction? Right under everyone’s noses?

A quiet murmur drifts through from the other side of the curtain, making my blood run cold.

This is happening now . There won’t be any chance of escape before I’m sold .

My guard deposits me in front of an older man with a clipboard. Wisps of dark hair curve over the top of his head in a vain attempt to hide his bald spot, and a small paunch tests the button on his suit jacket. An impatient expression twists his features as he sizes me up dispassionately.

“You’re cutting it close to get this one in on time.” He grabs a marker from his pocket, uncaps it, and writes a number across my chest. “There you go.”

Fear gnaws at my insides. “What’s that for?”

“It’s your starting bid.” He smirks at me. “You’ll fetch a good price.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and the bile I’ve been holding back surges up my throat. Bending, I puke on his shiny black shoes. A sour taste fills my mouth, but at least it washes away the bitterness left by the chloroform.

“Fucking hell!” He shakes his foot before yanking a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe at the mess. “You’re lucky you’re the first one on the auction block, or else I’d take the cost of these out of your hide.”

Fear shivers through me. Everything is moving so fast that I have no time to process what’s happening.

Another figure enters the room. This man wears a mask with filters on the sides, obscuring the bottom half of his face. My heart races as I realize its purpose.

The casino pumps a mild Alpha suppressant through the vents to prevent Alphas from using Command to cheat, but the special mask protects this man from the drug.

“ Walk through the curtain and down the stage, stopping at the end to do a turn ,” the masked man Commands, his voice seizing control of my free will. “ Then wait for further instructions .”

I want to resist, but my body moves on its own. The cold air of the room brushes against my bare skin as I walk forward, each step a betrayal as I scream inside.

Panic races through me. What happens once I reach the end of the stage?

Unable to stop my feet, I pass through the curtains.