Shadow of Saul

Chapter 7. Silent Bidder.

"We’ll see.”

At the words, tension crackled like static in the air and Ephraim felt his anger reach an all new high.

‘Oh that does it!’ he thought, ideas of all the violent things he could do to Saul rushing through his mind.

He cracked his knuckles, his face reddening as rage swept through him. “You want to see how this ends? Because I’ll—”

“Ephraim!” Daniella interjected, her voice sharp. 

She stepped in between them, her heart racing as adrenaline ignited her instincts. “This is not the time or place.”

Ephraim's breathing was heavy and rapid, fury almost making him froth at the corners of his mouth. “You can’t honestly think I’m going to let him walk all over us, Daniella!”

She met his blazing eyes with a steady gaze. “No, but if you want to humiliate yourself further, be my guest. Let’s not make a spectacle.”

The murmurs around them had evolved into a hushed chorus, eyes flickering like candle flames, some filled with curiosity, others with malice. 

Daniella felt their weight pressing down on her, forcing her to act. 

With quick hands, she seized Ephraim’s arm and gently, yet firmly, pulled him aside. “Come on. Let’s go to our table.”

He huffed, his foot tapping in defiance, but her grip was unyielding.

After navigating through the rows of tables, they finally found their tables, which were of course front row.

Ephraim Moore sharply sat down in his, practically vibrating with rage, his leg bouncing nervously.

"Did you hear him?" Ephraim hissed to Daniella, pouring himself another glass of wine. "The arrogance! 'That ring is mine.' Who does he think he is?"

Daniella picked at her napkin, her stomach churning. "Maybe we should just ignore him, Ephraim. He’s clearly unstable. If we engage with him, we just look petty."

"No," Ephraim growled, narrowing his eyes as he glanced two tables over.

Saul and Veronica were seated at a VIP table near the side. 

Unlike the rest of the guests who were posturing and networking, Saul was... eating.

He was methodically working his way through a plate of roasted lamb, ignoring the glares and whispers directed at him. 

He ate with a hunger that spoke of missed meals, but his movements were precise, almost mechanical.

"Look at him," Ephraim sneered. "Stuffing his face like a starving dog. He’s probably just here for the free food."

Daniella looked. She saw Saul cut a piece of meat and lift it to his mouth. 

Then she saw Veronica lean in. The Director whispered something in Saul’s ear, her lips brushing against his hair. Saul paused, looked at her, and offered a small nod. 

Veronica smiled—a genuine flash of teeth that Daniella didn't think the terrifying woman’s face was capable of.

A spike of hot, ugly jealousy pierced Daniella’s chest.

‘Why is she looking at him like that?’ she thought, her nails digging into her palm. ‘He’s just Saul. He’s boring. He’s poor. But he’s... mine. He was mine.’

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the auctioneer’s voice boomed over the speakers, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. "Welcome to the Annual Charity Gala. We have a splendid collection tonight."

The auction began.

Paintings were sold for the price of small islands. Vintage cars went to tech moguls. 

Through it all, Saul didn't look up from his plate. He seemed completely disinterested in the millions of dollars changing hands.

Ephraim, on the other hand, was manic. 

He bought a diamond necklace for Daniella for three hundred thousand dollars, making a show of kissing her hand when he won the bid.

"For you, my love," he declared loudly, glancing at Saul to see if he was watching.

Saul was buttering a bread roll.

Ephraim’s eye twitched. "He’s bluffing. He’s waiting for the ring to make a scene."

Finally, the lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the center of the stage.

"And now," the auctioneer announced, his voice dropping to a reverent hush. "Item number forty-five. From the private collection of Mr. Magnus Harut. The Twin Wolf Ring."

A hush fell over the room as a glass case was wheeled out. Inside, resting on a velvet pillow, was the ring.

Even from a distance, it seemed to radiate a heavy, dark energy. It was made of a matte black metal that seemed to absorb the spotlight. 

The engraving of the snarling wolf was exquisite and terrifying.

Saul stopped eating.

His fork clattered onto his plate.

The moment he saw the ring, the headache returned, sharper this time. It wasn't just pain; it was a pull. 

A magnetic force dragging his soul toward that stage. He could hear the phantom sounds of bones breaking, the smell of copper and ozone.

‘It’s mine’, a voice in his head screamed. ‘It’s the key.’

"We will start the bidding," the auctioneer said, "at five million dollars."

The room gasped. Five million for a starting bid was aggressive, even for this crowd.

Silence stretched.

"Six million!" Ephraim shouted, raising his paddle high. He turned in his seat, grinning triumphantly at Saul. "Let’s not waste time with pocket change!"

"Six point five million," a collector in the back called out.

"Seven!" Ephraim countered instantly. "I told you, it’s mine!"

The price climbed steadily. Eight. Eight point five. Nine.

At 10 million, the other bidders dropped out. It was just a ring, after all.

"10 million dollars going once," the auctioneer chanted. "Going twice..."

Ephraim stood up, buttoning his jacket, ready to accept his prize and humiliate Saul for not even lifting a finger. "Looks like your 'friend' is broke, Director Sterling!" he called out.

"20 million."

The voice was calm, flat, and came from the side table.

Saul raised his hand. He didn't have a paddle. He just raised his hand.

The room went dead silent.

The auctioneer blinked, adjusting his glasses. "The gentleman at table four bids twenty million dollars."

Ephraim froze. He turned slowly, his face turning purple. "You..."

"Are you bidding, Mr. Moore?" the auctioneer asked.

"Of course I'm bidding!" Ephraim screamed. "Twenty-one million!"

"Thirty million," Saul said immediately.

Gasps erupted. He had raised almost ten million in a second.

Daniella stared at Saul, her mouth agape. ‘Thirty million? Does he know what he’s saying? He’s going to land himself in jail!’

"Saul!" she hissed across the aisle. "Stop it! You can't afford this!"

Saul ignored her. His eyes were locked on the ring.

Ephraim looked at Saul, then at Veronica, who was swirling her wine, looking amused.

"Oh, I see," Ephraim laughed, a manic edge to his voice. "Playing with mommy's money, are we? Or maybe you think this is a game?"

He sat back down, a cruel idea forming in his mind. He remembered the rules of such an auction. He remembered what happened to people who couldn't pay.

"Thirty-one million," Ephraim said, his voice dripping with venom. "Let’s play, construction boy."