Page 2 of Sold to the Biker

“Where are we?” I finally muster the courage to ask, my voice barely audible.

Harry’s response is swift and brutal. “Shut the fuck up and do as you're told.”

The sharpness of his words slices through the air, and I flinch. As bad of an uncle as he is, he has never spoken to me like that before. I want to say something– anything but my throat feels too tight to speak. The car comes to a stop behind the building, where the lighting is dim and the air feels suffocating. Kane gets out first, opening the door for Harry, who steps out without another glance in my direction. I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and follow suit, my legs feeling like lead.

Harry doesn’t wait for me. He marches ahead, his pace brisk, as if there’s no time to waste. Kane falls into step behind us, his towering presence making me feel even smaller, more trapped. I steal glances around me, my stomach knotting as I take in thesurroundings. The back of the building is much more modest than the front, but no less ominous.

We enter through a side door, and I’m immediately hit with the stench of stale air and something else—something sweet and sickening that I can’t quite place. The hallway is narrow, dimly lit by flickering overhead lights, casting long shadows across the floor. As we move deeper inside, my unease turns to outright terror. I see them. Girls—barely dressed, their outfits little more than scraps of fabric—being led down the hallway by men who look like they could snap a person in two without a second thought. The girls’ faces are blank, their eyes vacant, but their trembling hands give away their fear. I want to scream, to run, but my feet are glued to the ground.What the hell is this place?

We keep walking, passing door after door, the air growing thicker with tension. Every instinct in me screams to turn around, but Harry’s pace never falters. Kane’s footsteps behind me are a constant reminder that escape isn’t an option. Finally, we reach the last door at the end of the hallway. Kane steps forward, his hand resting on the knob as he looks to Harry for confirmation. Harry gives a curt nod and Kane pushes the door open, revealing a dark room beyond. Harry turns to me, his eyes colder than ever.

“Get inside,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

I hesitate, fear rooting me to the spot. But then Harry’s hand shoots out, gripping my arm with surprising force. He shoves me forward, and I stumble into the room, my stomach lurching with dread. As the door closes behind me, I realize with chilling certainty; whatever is about to happen, there's no turning back now. Inside the room, the lightning is dim, and I can barely make out the details around me. The air feels thick andsuffocating, like it’s clinging to my skin. Harry moves ahead without a word, his steps measured and purposeful.

In the corner, I spot what looks like a clothing rack, barely visible in the murky light. Without looking at me, Harry strides over to it, his hand brushing past several garments until he grabs one. He pulls it off the rack and tosses it at me with a single flick of his wrist. The fabric lands in my arms, and I glance down at it, my stomach twisting in disbelief. It's a skimpy, red Santa costume—just like the ones I saw on the other girls in the hallway. It’s more like lingerie than an actual outfit, with short sleeves made of sheer mesh and a plunging neckline. My throat tightens as I hold it up, my mind reeling. This can’t be happening.

"W-what am I supposed to do with this?" I ask, my voice shaking despite my efforts to stay calm.

Harry doesn’t even bother to look at me. He nods toward a curtained section of the room that I hadn’t noticed before. "Go change into it."

For a moment, I just stand there, frozen. The sheer absurdity of the situation makes my head spin. "Are you serious?" I ask, more to myself than to him. He’s not actually expecting me to wear this… is he?

But as I search his face for any sign of hesitation, I find nothing. His eyes are cold, completely devoid of emotion. He’s not joking. He’s dead serious.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "No, I’m not doing this. I’m not—" The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. The whispers I’d overheard about his company, the rumors of financial trouble—how people said he was in too deep, with no way out. Inever believed it. Not really. Harry Forbes, the untouchable, the powerful, on the brink of bankruptcy? It seemed ridiculous. But now… I stare at the Santa costume in my hands, and everything starts to fall into place.

He’s here to auction me off.

"Is this what this is?" I choke out, dropping the outfit to the floor. "You're selling me?"

Harry doesn’t flinch. Or blink. He doesn’t even seem remotely concerned by my outburst. "Put on the damn costume, Leah," he says quietly, the calm in his voice more terrifying than if he’d shouted.

"No!" I back up, nearly stumbling over my own feet. "You’re insane! I’m not doing this. I’m leaving." I make for the door, ready to bolt—ready to get the hell out of here and never look back.

But I never get the chance.

In one fluid motion, Harry pulls a gun from inside his jacket, the barrel gleaming under the dim light. He points it directly at me, the cold metal unwavering as it aims between my eyes.

"Either you put on the costume," he says softly, his voice chillingly calm, "or you die. Right here. Right now."

My breath catches in my throat. My whole body goes rigid, my mind struggling to process what’s happening. The gun doesn’t waver. His eyes don’t falter. I know that look in his eyes, that complete and utter lack of humanity. He’s not bluffing. He’ll pull the trigger without a second thought.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. "You wouldn’t," I whisper, but even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. He would kill me right here, and he’d feel nothing.

"Try me," he says, his finger twitching slightly on the trigger.

Time seems to slow, and my vision blurs as panic tightens its grip around my chest. I’m trapped. There’s no way out. Every instinct in my body screams at me to run, to fight, but what’s the point? A gun pointed at my head—this is how it ends?

Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. No. No, I can’t break down. Not now.

I look at the costume on the floor, then back at Harry, his eyes still fixed on me, the gun steady in his hand. The weight of the decision presses down on me like a thousand pounds.Wear the costume, or die.

I feel my resolve crumbling. As miserable as my life is, I don't want to die.

Chapter Two

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