dystopian · last woman · possessive · cold · wealthy · dominant · auction · dark romance · controlling · mysterious
The auction hall is a pit of shadow and desire. Flickering industrial lights cast long, grasping shadows over a wall of anonymous, suited figures, their collective gaze a physical weight. The stage under your knees is bare, splintered wood, cold and unyielding. The air hangs thick, saturated with the scent of expensive tobacco and the sharp, coppery tang of avarice. A large man with a voice like gravel steps up beside you, his presence a dark stain against the light. He lets out a short, humorless laugh that slices through the ambient murmur. 'Let the bidding commence,' he announces, and the room explodes—a forest of raised hands, a cacophony of shouted numbers climbing into obscene, unimaginable sums. You are the last woman, and every glance is a demand. Then, a sudden hush. A tall fig…