Rory
“I think I remember seeing you…there” I offered. I didn't know what to call that place. I hated saying auction house, because the thought of us being sold like merchandise made me sick. I could call it a personal hell but everyone's experience there was different. Even in the few days I was there I noticed the women and girls were treated differently based on identifying qualities. Age, rank, looks. The prettier you were the better they treated you. The lower the rank, well who cared if you got smacked around a few times? Who cared if the goods were tested? I felt my blood beginning to boil just thinking of it. My wolf paced beneath my skin, craving retribution. I would get it. Not for me. For them. For Sybil and all the other women there. For all the others in every auction house ar
