Sleepy Hollow

{Elena's pov}

The chains were too tight. Iron cuffs dug into my wrists, holding my arms in place. The restriction cut deeper with every move, and my shoulders ached from being tied up.  

I struggled to breathe, overwhelmed by the thick air, heavy with smoke, sweat, and greed. I had no idea of my memory of identity or my location.

A dull, throbbing pain pulsed at the back of my skull. Making it hard for me to think. I had woken up only minutes ago in this dimly lit room, chained like an animal, surrounded by faceless men in expensive suits. Their eyes devoured me, their whispers filled with dark amusement.

This isn't real. It can't be real. But the rough texture of the wooden stage beneath my knees was real. The too-tight chains were real. The way the men were looking at me– like I was a property, something to be bought– was terrifyingly real.

"She's a rare one," the auctioneer announced, pacing before me. "Untouched. Unspoiled. A woman of her beauty is hard to find these days.'

A shiver ran down my spine. "I'm sure you all know the rules," the auctioneer continued smoothly. "Bidding starts at one million dollars." The room was silenced.

"One million."

The first voice rose from the shadows, smooth and arrogant.

"Two."

Another man. The numbers climbed higher. Three million. Four. My pulse pounded in my ears, a steady rhythm of panic.

I struggled against the chains, my breath coming in short gasps. "P -please.." my voice cracked. "Let me go."

Laughter. I wasn't sure who laughed first, but soon, the entire room was filled with amusement.

"She speaks." one man chuckled. "That's cute."

"Begging won't get you anywhere sweetheart.'' another voice, this one was closer.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push down the terror clawing up my throat. Think, Elena think

The name slammed through into me like a fist. It was my name. I was sure of it.

More pieces clicked into place- flashes of a life I couldn't fully grasp. A warm smile. Laughter. A pair of strong arms lifted me. Then - pain. A whispered name on dying lips.

A sudden wave of nausea rolled over me.

Why couldn't I remember?

Why was I here?

"Five million."

The deep, velvety voice cut through the air laced with something sharp and dangerous.

I forced my eyes open.

A man sat at the far end of the room, encircled in darkness. The way he carried himself - the effortless authority, the cold control- made every other man In the room insignificant.

The air shifted.

Everyone knew him. Feared him.

Who is he?

Whispers murmured spread through the room.

"Moretti."

The name sent a chill through me. He sat motionless, his expression a mask, revealing nothing. The shades couldn't fully hide him- his sharp jawline, the expensive watch glimmering under the dim ray, the way his fingers relaxed against the armchair, soothed yet powerful.

His eyes black as midnight were fixed on me. My stomach twisted. Something about him felt familiar.

But before I could grasp the thought, another voice broke through the silence.

"Ten million."

I totter my head, my gaze landing on a man slouching lazily in his seat, a smirk tugging at his lips.