Rejected And Sold

TESSA MERCER

It was around noon when we departed from the pack house. We rode in the back of Trent’s exclusive luxury vehicle, escorted by a heavy fleet of cars filled with royal guards. To say I felt special was a massive understatement. Sitting there on the smooth leather seats, watching the trees blur past the tinted windows, I felt a deep, swelling pride. Being the mate to the Beta of the pack carried immense privilege. It was the second most prestigious position for a female, right beneath the Luna. Having a royal entourage guard my every move felt like a dream I never wanted to wake up from. I wouldn't trade this life for anything.

The journey stretched on for about four hours. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the lingering emotional exhaustion from our earlier argument pulled me into a deep slumber. I slept peacefully, my head resting against the window, dreaming of a beautiful future.

Gentle taps on my shoulder pulled me from the darkness. I blinked my eyes open, greeted by Trent’s handsome face leaning close to mine.

"We are here, my love," he announced.

I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, peering out the window. My breath hitched. The clearing was massive, tucked away in the dense, towering woods, far from any familiar territory. Rows upon rows of expensive, armored vehicles were parked in perfect lines. A short distance ahead, a massive gathering was underway. It looked like a lavish outdoor gala, but with a primal edge. The heavy, rhythmic beating of tribal drums filled the crisp air, vibrating right through the soles of my shoes.

Wait. Why were we at a large gathering?

I turned to face Trent, my brows knitting together. "You said it was a secret spot. Why are we at a party?" I asked, genuine puzzle in my tone.

Trent offered a smooth, reassuring smile. "It is a party for men of high caliber, which is why it remains a secret. Outsiders are not meant to know about this gathering. I was invited to grace the occasion, and I decided to take you along to share the honor."

His words wrapped around my heart, melting away the last remnants of my morning insecurities. I appreciated this rare romantic gesture. He wanted to show me off. He wanted me by his side at an exclusive event. But as I looked down at my simple dress, a fresh wave of anxiety hit me.

"But my clothes are not befitting for such a noble gathering," I murmured, smoothing my hands over the fabric. "You should have told me we were coming to something like this. I would have changed my attire. I would have adorned my hair with pearls to look proper for you."

Trent waved off my concern with a dismissive hand. "No, you look good and pretty just the way you are. Come on, let us get down."

Outside, one of the royal guards pulled my door open, bowing his head. Trent stepped out from the other side, rounding the sleek hood of the car to meet me. He reached out, taking my hand in his large, warm grip. I smiled at his touch, my chest fluttering, and we walked toward the pulsating heart of the gathering hand-in-hand.

As we stepped into the torchlit clearing, the sheer magnitude of the event washed over me. Trent was right about the caliber of the men here. The area was swarming with powerful Alphas and elite Betas from great kingdoms. I could not identify all their specific pack colors, but their scents gave them away. Heavy pine, rich musk, burning cedar, and aged leather—the air spelled raw, strengthful power in big, bold letters. The only men who could amass such suffocating, dominant auras were the lethal heads of packs.

At the very center of the sprawling gathering sat a massive, ornate throne carved from dark wood and bone. A man reclined upon it, radiating an intimidating, predatory energy. He wore a crown of dark metal, signifying his rank as an Alpha King. He was the undisputed host of this dark party.

However, his demeanor did not match the festive drums. He possessed striking, midnight-blue eyes that held a cold, unfeeling gaze. They scanned the crowd with an authoritative, lethal gleam. A permanent scowl etched harsh lines into his face, making it look as though he had never smiled a day in his life. His lips were pressed into a tight, unforgiving frown. He radiated a pure, savage aura, yet, against my better judgment, I found the dark mystery of his presence undeniably magnetic.

The moment Trent and I stepped fully into the light, a ripple of attention stirred through the crowd. Dozens of predatory eyes turned our way. Apparently, we were quite late.

"Oh, Beta Trent. We have been waiting for your arrival," a booming voice echoed over the drums. It belonged to the man anchoring the event, standing near the center stage. "We had almost skipped your turn, thinking you would not arrive."

I arched my brows, a knot of confusion tightening in my stomach. His turn? What did that mean? What exactly was Trent supposed to do here?

Before I could ask, a young girl approached us. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her. She was flimsily dressed in mere scraps of fabric. Around her pale wrists and slim ankles sat thick, restrictive cuffs made of woven thorns—the mandatory, universal mark of a slave. The sharp thorns dug into her skin, a cruel reminder of her status. She belonged to the Alpha King's palace.

"His lady can go sit down," the anchor instructed, gesturing toward the front row. "Beta Trent, you can have the podium."

Trent gave me a quick nod, releasing my hand. He strode confidently toward the middle of the circle, his chest puffed out with pride. I followed the trembling slave girl to a plush seat near the front, my eyes darting nervously around the shadowy, opulent setting.

The pieces began to click together in my mind, forming a horrifying picture. Alpha Garrick? The crown, the woven thorns, the elite gathering of Alphas.

Was that the notorious Alpha Garrick Thorne sitting on the throne?

My heart began to hammer against my ribs. I had heard so many dark whispers about him back in our pack, and none of them were good. Legend said no one in our territory had ever seen his face, not even our own Alpha. He was a warlord, a phantom who only appeared on rare, bloody occasions. He was feared by all, respected by many, and known to be cold, ruthless, and unimaginably cruel by nature. The rumors claimed he had zero qualms about executing his slaves for the slightest misstep, snapping their necks without a second thought.

More terrifying than his temper was his yearly tradition. Alpha Garrick Thorne was famous for hosting a prestigious, underground slave trade ceremony. Alphas from packs far and wide would travel through the hidden terrains just to gather here, offering up their most exquisite, obedient slaves to him. Garrick would buy whichever girl caught his cold eye, always paying generous, astronomical amounts for the absolute best. Selling a slave to Alpha Garrick was considered a massive badge of honor among the packs. It brought immense pride and wealth to the seller's territory.

So, this was him. The midnight-blue eyes and the savage scowl perfectly mirrored his rumored ruthless persona.

But why was Trent participating?

Trent reached the center podium and turned to face the terrifying man on the throne. The drums faded into a low, suspenseful hum.

"I would not like to waste anymore time," Trent's voice rang out, clear and steady. He bowed slightly toward the throne. "Alpha Garrick, I, Beta Trent, would like to sell my slave to you for a price of ten million."

My brows furrowed so deeply they ached. What slave was he talking about?

Gasps erupted from the surrounding crowd. Heavy murmurs rippled through the rows of Alphas and Betas. The sheer audacity of the asking price sent a shockwave through the decadent party.

"Ten million? For a price that high, the slave must be a work of art! Pure beauty!" a wealthy Alpha seated to my left muttered, his eyes wide with greed and lust.

"Surely," his companion replied, leaning forward in his seat. "I cannot wait to see the damsel who would be worth such a hefty amount."

I sat frozen on the edge of my seat, my thoughts spiraling into chaotic confusion. I needed to see whoever Trent was talking about too. When did he acquire a slave? Where had he hidden her during the ride? We came here alone in his car. He told me this was a romantic getaway. He told me he wanted me to be his plus one. Now he was demanding ten million for a hidden slave? He had a massive amount of explaining to do on our way home.

"Where is she?"

The deep, rumbling voice sliced through the murmurs like a rusted blade. It came from the throne. Alpha Garrick leaned forward, his massive hands gripping the bone armrests. His voice was just as sharp and deadly as his looks, enhancing the savagery of his presence. If I were not consumed by my own escalating panic, I might have shivered at how strangely commanding his tone was.

Everyone in the audience began craning their necks, looking around the torchlit clearing for Beta Trent’s mysterious, ten-million-dollar slave. I did the exact same thing, turning my head to scan the shadows, wondering where he was keeping her.

Then, a dreadful, icy sensation washed over the back of my neck.

I turned back toward the center stage. My heart jumped fiercely, lodging itself right in my throat. Trent was not looking at the woods. He was not looking at the guards.

His dark gaze was locked directly onto me.

A sly, calculating smirk curved his lips. The tender, loving man who had wiped my tears just hours ago vanished, replaced by a cold, opportunistic monster. A frantic shudder ripped down my spine. The torches around us seemed to dim, sucking the oxygen from my lungs.

What is going on?

Trent raised his arm. He extended his index finger, pointing straight at my face.

"There she is," Trent declared to the crowd.

My blood instantly turned to ice. My jaw slacked, hanging open in sheer, unadulterated horror. I was transfixed, glued to the plush seat as a ringing sound filled my ears. Was I hallucinating? Did the sleep in the car mess with my head?

Every single head in the massive clearing snapped in my direction. Hundreds of predatory, scrutinizing gazes followed the line of Trent’s finger and landed squarely on me. The murmurs exploded into shocked gasps and rowdy whispers.

But their shock was nothing compared to the apocalyptic devastation crushing my soul.

Desperate for an escape, I twisted my torso around, frantically looking behind my chair. I prayed to the Moon Goddess that the alleged slave was standing in the shadows behind my seat. I prayed they were looking past me.

There was no one there. Empty space.

It was me. I was the one.

My own mate, the man I loved with every fiber of my being, just referred to me as his slave. He brought me to a black-market auction to sell me off to a ruthless warlord.

The thought was too sour, too agonizing to process. The worst part was that it was not a nightmare I could wake up from. It was my brutal, unfortunate reality.

"Are you being serious, Trent?!" I cried out, my voice cracking as I leaped up from the chair. Panic clawed at my throat. "What are you talking about?! I am not your slave! I am your mate!"

I stared at him, begging silently for him to laugh, to call it a cruel prank, to say it was a sincere mistake.

But the dark, intentional gleam in Trent’s eyes provided all the answers I needed. It spoke volumes about his true nature. This was perfectly planned. The fight this morning, the fake apology, the sweet pet names, the romantic car ride—it was all a calculated trap. He lured me here. I had been a naive, trusting fool all along.

The crowd's murmuring grew incessant, feeding on the fresh drama. They exchanged greedy, amused whispers about how Beta Trent was bold enough to sell off his own destined mate as a slave. It was a despicable, taboo act, and they were thriving on the entertainment.

"Step forward, Tessa," Trent instructed, his tone dripping with cold authority.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to defy him. I wanted to turn on my heel, sprint into the dark woods, and hide. I wanted to hop back into that luxury vehicle, lock the doors, and drive far away from this two-faced monster. But the sickening reality of our pack dynamics anchored my feet to the dirt. He was not just my treacherous mate; he was the Beta of my pack. He held an intrinsic, unyielding authority over me that I was biologically wired to obey.

When a Beta gives a direct command to a lower-ranking wolf, the body moves before the mind can resist.

I stood frozen for a second too long, my knees shaking uncontrollably.

"Why is the slave not responding to commands?"

The deep, chilling voice belonged to Alpha Garrick. I recognized the dangerous timber of it immediately, even though it was only the second time he spoke. He did not need to shout. He did not need to raise his tone. His mere presence demanded prompt, unquestioned obedience.

The threat in Garrick's question forced my trembling legs to move. I stepped out from the row of seats and began the longest, most agonizing walk of my life. Walking from the edge of the crowd to the center of the podium felt like wading through thick mud. The path stretched out like an unending nightmare.

I finally reached the center, stopping a few feet away from Trent. I was now fully exposed in front of the massive, leering crowd. My body trembled intensely, shaking from the inside out. The sheer weight of the betrayal crushed my chest, suffocating me. The man I loved the most had led me to the slaughterhouse.

I could feel the physical heat of Alpha Garrick’s midnight-blue eyes scrutinizing every inch of my frame. I felt so small, so deeply intimidated under his predatory gaze. He was evaluating my worth. He was looking at me like an object on a shelf. This ruthless warlord was about to become my master.

Oh heavens, this had to be a joke.

"This is my slave, Alpha," Trent boasted, sweeping a hand toward my shaking form. "You can see that she is beautiful and arousingly enticing. Turn around, Tessa."

I snapped my head up, staring deep into Trent’s dark, hollow eyes. My voice was trapped beneath the lump in my throat, but I let my tears spill over my cheeks, hoping my broken expression would plead on my behalf.

Trent's jaw tightened. "I said turn around, Tessa. Are you daft?"

Hearing that vicious, venomous tone shattered the last remaining piece of my soul. This was not the Trent I knew. Even when he was insulting my body and criticizing my sexual skills in our bedroom, he was never this monstrous. The Trent I loved was a total façade. The man standing before me, eager to sell my flesh for gold, was the real Beta Trenton.

I sniffled, dropping my gaze to the dirt. Humiliated beyond measure, I slowly turned my body around, completing a full circle to display myself to the audience.

Loud wolf-whistles pierced the air. Rowdy cheers and thick, wet murmurs erupted from the men around me. They were openly objectifying my curves, tracing my trembling thighs and hips with their greedy eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

From the throne, I saw Alpha Garrick give a small, subtle nod of satisfaction.

"I like this one," Garrick pronounced, his deep voice sealing my fate. "I will pay the ten million for her."

A roaring cheer tore through the gathering. The drummers struck their instruments with renewed, frantic energy, matching the chaotic, terrifying pounding of my own heart. The deal was struck. My freedom was gone.

I whipped my head back to Trent. He wore a sickeningly proud, victorious smile on his handsome face. He had his money. He was free of me. How could he possibly do something so evil?

Clinging to the last fading illusion of our bond, I stepped toward him.

"But... But Trent," I choked out, tears streaming down my face. "I am your mate. You cannot just sell me off like livestock. What about us? What about our togetherness?"

I waited for the hesitation. I waited for him to wipe my tears, pull me into a hug, and declare the auction a mistake.

Instead, Trent looked down at my weeping face and let out a low, mischievous chuckle. The sound was pure poison. He squared his shoulders, his eyes hardening into black stones.

"I, Beta Trenton Vance, openly reject you, Tessa Mercer, as my mate."