The outfit had been delivered that very morning to User's chamber, a luxurious, extravagant, and revealing garment, dyed a red so deep it appeared almost black. It came with a choker of black gold, encrusted with more than a hundred diamonds. It was hard to tell who had chosen the ensemble, but one thing was certain: it was a sign of belonging, proof of the ownership the Meskhenet claimed over User's body and person. Above all, it was a warning to anyone who dared lay eyes on them tonight.

The Auction was one of the most important events in Vampyr society. Held once a year at Pandora's towering Metropolitan Museum, the night was a spectacle where wealth and excess collided in an endless gala broadcast across the world. Here, the titans of industry mingled with celebrities, collectors, and Vampyr influencers. It was an appearance awaited with fervor and drenched in media attention. This was where the most powerful men gathered.

"Smile for the cameras, brother," Lance murmured, running a hand through his immaculate hair with a lazy grin as he stepped out of the limousine. His suit fit flawlessly over his frame, though he still fussed with his tie for the flashing cameras already pointed their way. Cassian followed a few seconds later, eternal scoff in place. He'd traded his leather jacket for a black suit, though the glint of his piercings still caught the light of the flashes. The shrieks from beyond the barricade only sharpened the violent headache pounding in his skull.

Cassian ignored the paparazzi screaming louder than the hysterical groupies pressed against the barriers, yet he was forced to stop barely a quarter into the red carpet. Cameras were already trained on him, microphones shoved barely inches from his face as journalists blocked his way.

"Cassian! What do you have to say to the world, eagerly awaiting your takeover at the head of Progeny? Has Lord Meskhenet announced a retirement date yet?"

Crimson eyes glared daggers, his nostrils flaring until Lance stepped in smoothly, slipping a hand onto his twin's shoulder. "You know," he drawled, flashing the cameras a sharp smile, "it's always amusing how many times the same question can be asked without ever yielding a different answer. Father is still Father, he does nothing by halves, not even his reign. So be patient. When he chooses to step aside, trust me, you'll be the first to know. Until then, I'd suggest you enjoy the spectacle instead of chasing after a date that doesn't exist yet."

Smooth as ever when facing the public, Lance dismissed the journalists with the kind of finesse Cass could never manage. Questions kept flying, but the heir's attention had shifted elsewhere. Cass turned his head, the noise of the crowd fading as he caught it, the delicate trace of a scent, barely perceptible, but one that forever set his nerves on edge. User was here.

His garnet gaze swept the influencers gliding down the carpet, past the shrieking fans, over the flashing paparazzi. A quick glance over his shoulder, then beyond the journalists, he spotted Leon entering the museum, flanked by two suited men in animated conversation. But no trace of User. Cass's scoff deepened as he shoved Lance's hand off his shoulder and strode away. His twin cast him a sidelong glance, before slipping back into his polished exchange with the media.

He pushed inside, striding up the red carpet in long, brutal steps, brushing off reporters and photographers alike. His eyes strained toward the crowded interior. Too many Vamp. Too much danger. And User somewhere among them.

"Where's User?" he demanded under his breath, catching his uncle by the arm. The man arched a brow, shook his head, but Cass was already gone, temper snapping. Why the fuck wasn't Leon with them? The Auction would begin in less than an hour, gathering the greediest, most dangerous vampyrs, the untouchables. User was somewhere in this pit of predators about to bid fortunes on human lives, thrown like a bait - owned, displayed, off-limits - flaunted in plain sight with the silent message: you can't have me.

User was not safe here. Cass knew it better than anyone. The sidelong smirks of certain power players only fueled the tension coiling in his gut.

Where. The. Fuck. Is. User?

He didn't care if he had to track their scent like a beast in front of all these people. Didn't care about the incredulous stares of the elite. Every second chipped away at his fragile restraint. And when he stopped short, face to face with a De Vallière, the rival house, head of Vitals Corp, Progeny's greatest competitor, his control finally snapped.

Without warning, his hand shot out, seizing the man's wrist mid-conversation with three women reeking of perfume, silver and greed.

"What the-" the man started, but Cass cut him off with a snarl, eyes blazing. His grip was iron, strong enough to crush mortal bones. The stench of User clung to him. Too strong. "Where is User?" Cass hissed like a feral beast in his face.

"User?!" the De Vallière repeated, incredulous, before a smug smirk spread across his lips. "Oh, you mean your little pet? That sweet little thing. I'll give you that, you Meskhenet have taste. Last I saw, some young vamps were having a bit of fun with them. You really shouldn't leave your whore unattended, you know that?"

Cass's restraint snapped like brittle glass. His free fist crashed against the vampire's jaw, the sound sharp and brutal. His opponent snarled, raising a hand to strike back, but Cass was relentless, every blow landed with vicious precision, meant to break, to dominate, to destroy. Within seconds, the De Vallière was sprawled on the ground, Cass straddling him, crimson eyes blazing with fury.

"WHERE IS User?!" he roared, fists slamming again and again into the man's bloodied face. The crowd parted, gasping, electrified by the scandal, Meskhenet blooding a De Vallière in full public view. Cameras swiveled, capturing every second, but Cass no longer cared.

He didn't give a shit about the scandal, or the live broadcast, or his image as heir. He didn't care that Lance was somewhere behind him, shouting for him to stop. All that mattered was that this dog had touched User, insulted them, watched them be potentially abused, and done nothing. He was going to kill him.

"D-Downstairs.." De Vallière groaned, his voice broken, "The back room.. In the pens, where the specimens for tonight's auction are kept... Fuck, that hurts like hell.." Cass's fist froze mid-air. The face of the man under him was already swelling, one eye so battered it would take hours to heal. Cass's knuckles itched to smash his skull in, to pound him into unconsciousness for days. But the weight of those words chilled him to the bone.

The pens?! Fuck. The worst place User could be.

He pushed off him at once, barely wiping the blood from his hands before stepping over the groaning body. The crowd of vampyrs parted in a shudder of whispers, clearing a path. Voices called out, questions fired at him, demands to explain, but he ignored everything. No one followed as he shoved through the staff door, descending toward the lower levels.

The rush of rage and adrenaline cooled into something sharper, deadlier. User should not be down there. User should never be anywhere near the humans set to be sold tonight.

"Fuck," he hissed, slamming his shoulder into the door leading to the staff corridor that ran beneath the stage above, now filling with guests. A few staff members flinched as he passed, but none dared stop him, none dared even ask. Maybe they knew better. Maybe that made it worse. And then, the double doors, the reinforced gates to the reserve. He already knew before pushing them open; he could smell it. Their scent, threaded silver and fragile warmth, User's unique trace; sharp and pure amid the stench of fear and despair saturating the air.

He shoved the doors wide, greeted by harsh flickering neon light and half-darkness. Cages lined the walls, rows of polished bodies, groomed and chained, prepared for tonight's display. The stink of antiseptic and human flesh filled his lungs, nothing like the marble polish and velvet opulence above. This was the truth of User's world, the condition of what once had been the dominant race.

The doors slammed shut behind him with a heavy clang. Cassian froze, crimson eyes sweeping the room until they landed on User.