My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 428

Chapter 428: Chapter 428 THE LOT

SERAPHINA’S POV

At first, nothing happened.

Then the silence broke, splintering into low voices that rose and tangled into something sharp, edged with disbelief.

“What is she doing—”

“—is she insane—”

“That one—?”

The murmurs spread in uneven waves across the tiers. Shadows shifted as bodies leaned forward, interest sharpened not by cruelty this time, but by disruption.

I didn’t lower my paddle.

At the center of the pit, the masked figure stilled.

The handlers hesitated as well, their grip on the girl tightening as if waiting for instruction that hadn’t come yet.

Beside me, Kieran went very still, his jaw tightening; his hands curled on his knees, betraying tension.

“Sera,” he said under his breath, his voice low enough that it barely carried past me. “What are you doing?”

I didn’t look at him.

Truth? I had no fucking idea what I was doing.

But for some reason, instead of dissuading me, the uproar only cemented my decision.

“Trust me.”

Now that I was really listening, the room told me everything it hadn’t before.

“...that’s her—”

“—does she not know—”

“No one touches that one—”

The words slipped through the noise in fragments, but they were enough.

The realization assembled itself from the whispers’ tone, the room’s tension, the absence of appetite where there should have been plenty.

My gaze stayed on the girl.

On the way she stood—unbowed, untouched in ways that didn’t make sense in a place like this.

On the way the handlers weren’t hurting her. Not like the others.

This wasn’t just another lot.

She was part of the show.

No—worse.

She was a constant.

Displayed. Circulated. Offered.

And never taken.

No one was bidding, not because she lacked value.

Because claiming her would cross a line none of them were willing to touch.

And I had just stepped directly over it.

The distorted voice echoed again, though this time it carried something different beneath the modulation.

“Opening bid acknowledged.”

The masked figure inclined their head, as though reassessing something.

“Do we have...confirmation?”

It wasn’t directed at me.

It was directed at the room.

At the invisible structure that governed this place.

At whoever was truly in control.

The tension coiled tighter.

I straightened my arm, holding my paddle high above my head in emphasis, and leaned forward enough to make my voice carry.

“I’ve placed my bid.”

The ripple of whispers sharpened again.

“She doesn’t know—”

“She has to know—”

“Or she’s dead.”

Kieran’s hand brushed mine, not stopping me, not pulling me back, but there—grounding, steady, ready.

The auctioneer—if that was what the masked figure was—shifted their weight, recovering with practiced ease.

“Perhaps,” they said smoothly, “our bidder is...overly eager. It would not be the first time someone mistook the nature of a lot.”

A few low chuckles followed that, thin and humorless. Almost...nervous.

I let the silence stretch just long enough to make it clear I understood exactly what they were offering. An opening, a way out. A chance to retract without consequence.

Then I shook my head. “No mistake.”

The murmurs rose, sharper, louder, no longer bothering to stay contained.

“She’s pushing it—”

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