Home / Urban / KING OF THE NORTH / Chapter Four: The Auction of the Innocence
Chapter Four: The Auction of the Innocence
Author: Suni
last update2025-12-23 03:03:24

The underground auction house was hidden beneath a fancy hotel in Newton’s east district. 

It was the kind of place the rich came to do things they would never admit in public.

The room was huge, with rows of expensive velvet chairs and crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, throwing sparkles of light everywhere. But all that beauty couldn't hide what this place really was.

A marketplace for human suffering. 

At the center of everything was a raised platform, lit up by bright spotlights that made it look like a stage. And on that stage, inside a gold-painted cage was Lyanna Garrett. 

She looked so small and broken. They'd dressed her in scraps of clothing that barely covered anything. Under the harsh light, she might have as well been naked. 

Her arms were wrapped around herself, trying desperately to cover up, but there was nowhere to hide.

Around her neck, there was an angry red mark from a rope burn that was still bleeding in some spots. 

She was sixteen years old. She should have been in school, playing with friends, worrying about homework and crushes and what to wear tomorrow.

Instead, she was curled up in this cage like an animal, shaking with fear. Her eyes were wide with terror as she stared at the crowd of hungry monsters waiting to buy her. 

The auctioneer walked onto the platform with a big smile on his thin face. He wore an expensive tuxedo and carried a microphone in one hand and a whip in the other; the kind used to hit horses.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted into the microphone, his voice booming through the room. "Our final item tonight is very special! A rare treasure we've been saving for our most valued guests!”

He pointed the whip at the stage. 

“As you can all see, she's young, fresh and untouched,” He said , his smile growing wider with each word, “But what makes her truly special is this,”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver necklace with a small locket attached to it. The chain was broken.

“This little thing went absolutely crazy when my staff tried to take this necklace from her." He laughed. "She fought like a wild cat! We had no choice but to rip it off her neck by force. Nearly strangled herself in the process.”

He opened the locket and a photograph fell from it. 

With a flick of his wrist, he projected it onto a large screen behind him.

The image showed two children, around the age of eight, a boy and a girl, standing together at what looked like a birthday party.

The boy had his arm around the girl’s shoulders and they both had genuine, happy smiles. 

"Isn't that sweet?" the auctioneer said mockingly. "She was so attached to this photo that she'd rather die than let it go. So I have to ask…”

He walked over to the cage and crouched down, bringing his face close to the bars. His eyes held sick excitement. 

"Tell me, little one. Now that you're about to become someone's sex slave – someone's toy to use however they want – are you still thinking about your childhood sweetheart? Still dreaming about the boy in that picture coming to save you?”

Inside the cage, Lyanna's body shook as tears ran down her face. 

"He's not my sweetheart," she said through her tears. "He's my brother.”

The crowd booed loudly. 

“Booooooooo!”

“What a waste!”

“Just her brother? How boring!”

The auctioneer stood up, with a disappointed look on his face, “Ah, just her brother. Well, that's not worth remembering, is it? Brothers are a dime a dozen. They grow up and forget about their little sisters. They move on with their lives and –”

"My brother is a good person," Lyanna interrupted, her voice suddenly strong. She lifted her head and stared at the crowd with burning eyes. "He's worth a thousand of any of you. You're all trash. Every single one of you.”

The room went silent for a moment, then if exploded with shouts. 

“DID SHE JUST CALL US TRASH?”

“THE LITTLE BITCH HAS SPIRIT,”

“I LIKE WHEN THEY FIGHT,”

“FIVE MILLION,” Someone shouted from the crowd.

"TEN MILLION!" another voice called out.

"FIFTEEN MILLION! I'LL BREAK THAT SPIRIT MYSELF!”

Greedy flashed in the auctioneer's eyes, “Now we're talking. Do I hear twenty million?”

“TWENTY MILLION!”

“TWENTY-FIVE!”

“THIRTY!”

The bids climbed higher as the crowd got more excited. 

They loved the idea of breaking her. 

Lyanna's bravery faded into terror and she pressed herself against the back of the cage.

***

High above the auction floors, in a private luxury suite with one-way glass walls, two people watched the chaos unfold.

The suite was beautiful – everything was designed to make the guests feel like royalty while they watched human beings being sold like cattle.

The woman sitting on the couch was stunning in a cold, perfect way. 

Her name was Victoria Caldwell, cousin to Francine Hale, and she was what people called a “classic beauty” but her beauty was the kind that made you uncomfortable. 

She sipped her wine lazily and watched Lyanna cower in the cage below. Her expression was bored, like she was watching a mildly interesting TV show.

“What a fool,” Victoria said, “That little girl just signed her own fucking death warrant. By talking back like that, she'll be tortured to death now. They'll surely make an example of her,”

Sitting across from her was an older man – probably in his sixties, with steel-gray hair and a face that looked like it had been carved from stone.

He wore an expensive suit and had the bearing of someone used to being obeyed.

He was George Caldwell, the patriarch of the Caldwell family. 

He nodded slowly. “Indeed. Though I must say, the girl has more spine than I expected. Most would be begging by now.”

Victoria took another sip of wine. “It won't matter. Spine or not, she'll be broken before the night is over. That's what happens to people who don't know their place.”

The Patriarch sat back in his chair, “Indeed. Francine should have been here herself, don't you think? This is her revenge after all,”

Victoria laughed, “The Garrett brat isn't worthy of Francine's personal attention. This is just cleanup work. Loose ends that needed to be tied up. Besides, Francine has much more important things to deal with right now.”

"Ah yes," the Patriarch said knowingly. "Her plans with the War God.”

“Exactly. Speaking of which, when will the aunt reveal where the brother is hiding?” Victoria asked. 

“My son has been questioning her for hours,” The Patriarch said, “I heard you even let Dorian sewed a tracking device into the aunt's body. That was clever. So we should expect results soon,”

Victoria smirked. “Exactly. That woman has hidden for so long, protecting those children. And now, she's been harmed by the very man she once loved. He delivered her right into our hands. Truly not worth it.”

Victoria pulled out her phone. “I have access to the tracker. Let me check on our poor, suffering aunt.” She tapped on the screen a few times, pulling up the tracking app. “Let's see where this pitiful woman is right now…”

She frowned and tapped the screen again. Her frown deepened. 

“That's... odd,” she said slowly.

“What is it?” The Patriarch asked. 

Victoria stood up and walked to the window, staring down at the auction floor while studying her phone. Her perfect face showed confusion for the first time.

“The tracker,” she said. “It's showing that the aunt is... moving. Rapidly. And she's…”

She looked up at the Patriarch, her eyes wide.

“Why's she heading straight towards us?”

***

Down at the auction floor, the bidding had reached insane heights. 

“FIFTY MILLION!"

“SIXTY MILLION!”

“SEVENTY MILLION!”

The crowd was in a frenzy now. Men were standing up, shouting over each other, their faces red with excitement and greed and lust.

Finally, the auctioneer slammed his gavel down.

“Sold! For a hundred and twenty million dollars to Mr. Roland Vance,”

Roland Vance was everything disgusting about wealth and power rolled into one package. He was in his mid-fifties, with a belly that hung over his belt like he was pregnant. His face was red and sweaty, with jowls that shook when he moved. His expensive suit couldn't hide the fact that he was grotesque.

He waddled up onto the platform, breathing heavily from the effort. 

“Open it,” he commanded the auctioneer, gesturing at the cage.

The auctioneer unlocked the cage door with a theatrical flourish.

Roland reached inside with his fat, sweaty hand and grabbed Lyanna by the arm. He yanked her out roughly, and she stumbled, nearly falling.

Up close, he was even more revolting. His breath was hot and rancid as he leaned in close to her face.

“You called us trash, didn't you?” he whispered, his voice thick with excitement. “Well, you're MY trash now. And I'm going to teach you what happens to girls who don't show respect to their betters.”

His hand moved to toy h her face and Lyanna did the only thing she could do in that moment. 

She lunged forward and bit his hand as hard as she could.

Roland let out a high pitched scream. 

“AAAAAAHHHHH! YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

Roland's face went from red to purple with rage. He raised his bleeding hand high in the air, preparing to backhand Lyanna across the face with enough force to break her jaw.

“I'LL KILL YOU!” he roared. “I'LL BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY! I'LL—”

Just then, the massive double doors at the entrance to the auction house exploded inward.

The heavy wood doors tore off their hinges and flew across the room like they were made of paper. One door smashed into a chandelier, bringing it crashing down in a shower of crystal. The other door crushed several chairs in the back row.

Then, a figure walked forward, wearing a uniform soaked in dried blood. 

His boots echoed on the floor with each step.

The entire auction house went silent.

Every head turned and every eye stared. 

Then, Navine Garrett stepped into the light. 

His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Lyanna. 

Lyanna's eyes went wide. Her mouth opened in shock. She tried to speak but no sound came out.

"The woman on that platform," Navine said, each word precise and deadly, "is mine.”

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