Chapter 1

City lights bounced off the glass towers, casting a beautiful shimmer across the skyline — ironic, for a girl whose life had just been auctioned off.

Tasya stood before the door of a luxury suite on the thirtieth floor. The sheer dress they'd forced on her felt like a taunt, transparent enough to trace every trembling curve of her body.

Behind her, her uncle's fingers dug into her arm.

"Uncle, please..." Tasya's voice shook. "Don't do this. I'll work — anything. I can help with the company—"

"Shut up!" her uncle snapped.

Her aunt crossed her arms, face devoid of guilt.

"The company nearly went bankrupt because of your parents. Now you're the payment," Milan said.

Merlin, their daughter, smiled coldly.

"Besides, you're just an adopted kid. You should be grateful someone's willing to pay six million for you."

Inside the room, an old man sat in a plush chair near a glass table. His hair had gone white. His smile was revolting. A contract lay neatly on the table before him.

"Bring her in," he said casually.

Tasya thrashed. "Please! Don't!"

But a needle pierced her arm. Cold liquid flooded her veins. Her vision blurred as the door was shoved open and her body was thrown inside.

The door slammed shut, locked from the outside. Footsteps retreated without hesitation.

"Uncle! Aunt! Please open the door!" Tasya pounded on it, her hands weak from the drug.

No answer. When she slowly turned around, the old man was already standing. His eyes crawled greedily over her body through the sheer dress that now felt like a punishment.

"I paid six million dollars for you," he said, his voice thick and hoarse. "And the partnership contract will save your uncle's company. You should feel honored."

Tasya backed away.

"Don't come any closer..."

The man chuckled and stepped forward.

Tasya bolted across the room. Her heart hammered. The sedative made her stumble, but terror gave her strength. The old man lunged for her. His hand nearly caught her shoulder, but—

CRASH.

Tasya's fingers closed around a crystal vase on the table and she swung it with everything she had. It connected with the side of his head.

The impact rang through the suite. His body crumpled. Blood trickled from his temple. Tasya froze, hands shaking.

"I didn't — I..." Her breath came in ragged gasps. But there was no time for regret. With trembling fingers, she searched his jacket. A hotel key card and an unmarked black card fell to the floor.

She snatched them up, wrenched the door open, and ran.

But at the end of the hall, her uncle and aunt still stood there — as if making sure the transaction was complete.

Tasya froze. There was no way past them.

Panicking, she spotted a room with the door slightly ajar. A man in a black suit had just stepped out and was walking briskly toward the elevator.

The room must be empty, she thought. Without hesitation, she slipped inside and eased the door shut.

The lights were dim. She pressed her back against the door, trying to steady her breathing. But the sharp bite of alcohol hung thick in the air. Slowly, Tasya turned toward the bed — and the blood seemed to drain from her body.

A man lay there, unconscious.

Outside the room, the guard who had stepped out was merely doing a corridor check. No one knew that a panicked girl had just entered his master's suite.

On the king-size bed, the man she'd assumed was unconscious began to stir. A large, veined hand clawed at his tie as though it were strangling him. Heat radiated through the room — not from the temperature, but from something deeply wrong.

Tasya slowly turned her head, and the world seemed to stop.

The man had pulled himself half upright. His frame was powerful, broad-shouldered. His white shirt hung open at the chest, revealing hard, defined muscle. Dark tattoos wound from his forearms to his wrists.

But to Tasya, everything was a blur. Her vision swam from the sedative still coursing through her — the drug Merlin had jabbed into her arm minutes ago.

Her head was leaden, the room spinning. She pressed her fingertips to her temple.

"I have to... go..." she murmured.

On his side, the man had sensed a stranger in his room. His gaze was wild, but he fought to stay conscious, his jaw clenched tight.

Someone had drugged him after an important meeting tonight — a meeting that had forced him into public view for only the second time in his thirty-two years.

He rarely showed his face. He rarely put a face to his name. And tonight, he too had become a victim.

"Who... are you..." His voice was low and strained, pinned beneath a consciousness that was slipping away.

Tasya flinched.

"I — I'm sorry... wrong room," she said quickly. "I'll go."

She turned, reaching for the door handle. But before her fingers touched it, a powerful grip locked around her wrist.

Tasya gasped. The man had moved fast despite his fading awareness. In one motion, he pulled her toward him and pushed her down onto the bed.

Tasya's breath caught in her throat.

"Let me go!" she cried weakly, struggling to break free.

But neither of them was in control. The drug in Tasya's system made her movements sluggish. The drug in his had shattered his reason.

His eyes traced her face — a hazy outline in his failing vision.

"Who sent you..." he rasped.

Tasya shook her head frantically.

"Nobody... I just—"

Her words died as her head grew heavier. Everything dissolved into shapes and shadow. She could no longer tell what was real.

The man closed his eyes for a moment, trying to fight the poison in his blood. But his body burned, his mind fractured, his instincts ungovernable.

Their eyes met — neither fully conscious. Both trapped by the chemicals coursing through them.

Tasya tried to rise.

"I have to go..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

But his grip was too strong. His strength dwarfed her body, already weakened by the sedative. Every movement she made was slow, leaden, as though her body no longer belonged to her.

He raised his hand and touched her face.

The contact made Tasya flinch.

"Don't..." she breathed.

Her vision blurred. The face above her was nothing but a dark outline — a hard jaw, heavy breath, warm skin that burned against hers. She couldn't see who he was.

He leaned down, his breath brushing her skin. There was something inhuman in the way he moved. A feral drive born not from conscious will, but from something far darker.

Tasya fought back. Tears began to fall.

"Let me go... please..."

But her cries couldn't reach whatever was left of his mind. The poison warping his thoughts had erased the boundary between right and wrong. Distorted instinct made him act as someone he was not.

He wasn't conscious. He wasn't himself. But for Tasya, that changed nothing about the fear.

Pain spread through her body. She tensed, sobbed, begged, pushed — but her strength drained away, bit by bit.

Her cries were swallowed by the thick walls of the luxury suite. Outside, Berlin stayed frozen, indifferent to two people who had both been betrayed by those closest to them.

"Please stop... it hurts, you're hurting me," Tasya pleaded, but the man gave no sign of hearing.

And he, trapped in fractured consciousness, seemed lost in a darkness that whispered of power and conquest — as though he saw an enemy to be subdued, not a defenseless girl.

Mama... Papa, Tata has failed... Tasya whispered in her heart. Begging and struggling were useless now. The man had already taken something precious from her. Something she had guarded with everything she had.

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