Inside her room, Elara stood in the dark for a long moment. The oil lamp from the main room barely reached here, leaving everything in half-shadow. Her bed. Her small desk. The cracked mirror her mother had given her years ago.
She pulled her bag from under the bed and opened it. Then stared at it.
What do you pack when you're leaving forever? When you're going somewhere you never chose?
She reached for a sweater, then stopped. Would she even need it? Would they let her keep her own clothes, or would they dress her in something else? Something that fit their idea of who she should be?
Her hands hovered over a small wooden box on her desk—letters from Eva, a photo of her and Nathan at the summer festival, a ribbon her father had bought her when she was ten. Before the drinking got bad. Before the debt swallowed everything.
She put the box in the bag. At least she'd have proof she'd been someone else once.
The door creaked. Her mother stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame like she needed it to hold herself up.
"Can I come in?"
Elara didn't answer. Didn't look at her.
Her mother came in anyway. She set a small bundle on the bed—a dress, neatly folded. Blue, with small flowers embroidered on the collar. It looked new. Or at least, carefully preserved.
"I was saving this," her mother said softly. "For your wedding day. I thought…" Her voice caught. "I thought it would be different."
Elara stared at the dress. "You thought I'd marry someone I loved."
"Yes."
"You thought I'd have a choice."
Her mother's breath hitched. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't change anything."
"I know." Her mother moved closer, reaching out, then letting her hand drop. "Wear this when you meet him. You should look… you should look like yourself." She paused. "You're stronger than you think, Elara. Stronger than me. Stronger than your father. You'll survive this. I know you will."
"Survive isn't the same as live."
Her mother had no answer for that. She stood there a moment longer, then turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Elara sat on the bed, the dress beside her. She didn't cry. She wouldn't give them that.
Instead, she lay back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the rain. Hours passed. The lamp in the other room went out. Her father's uneven footsteps stumbled to his room. Her mother's quiet crying eventually faded.
The house settled into sleep.
But Elara stayed awake, watching the shadows shift. Her mind turned over everything—the man's cold eyes, her father's shaking hands, her mother's desperate justifications. The word collateral echoed in her head.
She thought about Adrian Dalton. Twenty-three. Unmarried. A stranger who needed "stability." What did that even mean? Was he cruel? Indifferent? Arrogant?
It didn't matter. He was the man who would own her future.
Somewhere past midnight, she heard a soft sound outside. Footsteps on gravel.
She went to the window and looked out. Two figures stood by the gate, barely visible in the rain. Eva and Nathan.
Her chest tightened.
They must have heard. Small towns had no secrets. Everyone would know by morning—if they didn't already—that the Danes' daughter had been sold to pay their debts.
Eva was crying. Elara could tell even from here, the way her shoulders shook. Nathan had his arm around her, but he was staring at the house like he wanted to burn it down.
Elara pressed her hand against the glass. She wanted to go to them. Wanted to run out and say goodbye properly. But if she opened that door, she didn't know if she'd have the strength to come back inside.
So she stayed at the window and watched until they finally left, disappearing into the rain.
When dawn came, pale and gray, Elara was already awake. She hadn't slept at all.
She folded the blue dress carefully and tucked it into her bag—she'd wear it when she met him. For now, she pulled on the same clothes from yesterday. It didn't matter what she looked like leaving this place.
She looked at herself in the cracked mirror one last time. The girl staring back looked tired. Hollow. But her eyes weren't empty.
They were angry.
The black car was already waiting when she stepped outside. Same car. Same driver. The back door stood open like a mouth.
Her mother stood by the doorway, hands twisted together. Her father leaned against the wall, unable or unwilling to come closer. The distance between them felt like miles.
"Be good, my child." Her mother's voice was small, pleading. "Please. Just be good."
Elara didn't answer. She picked up her bag and turned toward the gate.
"Elara!"
She stopped. Looked back once.
Her mother was crying again. Her father stared at the ground.
"I hope it was worth it," Elara said quietly.
Then she walked toward the car.
"Wait!"
Eva's voice cut through the morning air. She was running down the path, Nathan close behind. Both of them were soaked from the rain, hair plastered to their faces.
Eva reached her first, breathless. "You weren't going to say goodbye?"
"I didn't think I could," Elara admitted.
Eva grabbed her hands, squeezing tight. "This is insane. You know that, right? You don't have to go."
"Eva—"
"We could run. Right now. The three of us. We could just go."
Nathan stepped closer, his jaw tight. "She's right. We'll figure something out."
Elara felt her throat close. "And then what? They'll come after me. After my family. You know how this works."
"So what?" Eva's voice cracked. "You just let them take you?"
"I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"Not for people like us." Elara pulled her hands free gently. "Not when there's debt involved."
Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets, anger radiating off him. "This is wrong."
"I know."
"You shouldn't have to do this."
"I know."
Eva wiped at her face, tears mixing with rain. "Promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise me you won't forget where you came from. Who you are." She grabbed Elara's hand again.
"Promise me you won't let them break you."
Elara's chest ached. "I promise."
"And come back," Nathan added, his voice rough. "When you can. However long it takes. Come back."
"I will."
It was a lie. She knew it. They probably knew it too. But sometimes lies were kinder than the truth.
The driver cleared his throat. "Miss, we need to leave."
Eva hugged her, hard and desperate. Nathan pulled them both close, and for a moment, Elara let herself feel it. The warmth. The safety. The life she was leaving behind.
Then she stepped back.
"I have to go."
Eva nodded, still crying. Nathan's hands curled into fists, helpless.
Elara climbed into the car. The leather seat was cold. The door closed with a heavy, final sound.
Through the window, she watched them standing there. Eva collapsed against Nathan, sobbing. Her mother stood frozen by the door. Her father finally looked up, his face gray and hollow.
The car pulled away.
Elara kept her eyes on them until the house disappeared around the bend. Then she turned forward and didn't look back again.
The city slowly came alive around them. Buildings grew taller. Cars multiplied. People in clean clothes walked with purpose, like they'd never known what it meant to be powerless.
The driver glanced at her in the mirror. "We'll arrive at the estate in about two hours, miss."
"Miss." The word felt foreign. Like it belonged to someone else.
She pressed her palm against the cold window and watched the world change outside. Sleek storefronts replaced shabby buildings. Manicured parks replaced empty lots.
Somewhere ahead, behind gates and walls, a mansion waited. And in it, a man she'd never met. A man who thought he could own her.
Adrian Dalton.
She whispered to herself, so quietly the driver couldn't hear. "If I ever get the power, I'll never let anyone own me again."
The sun broke through the clouds, pale and weak. Light fell across her face, almost kind.
But Elara didn't feel kindness. She felt the weight of what was coming. The cage waiting to close around her.
Somewhere in that mansion, a young man would soon call her his wife.
He didn't know it yet, but he was about to meet the girl who would change everything.
The girl they bought.
The girl they sold.
The girl who would one day make them all pay.