heartless | myg ✓

13. Help

I was still lost in contemplation, still confused as to why Mikhail would be searching for my father when there were more significant problems to face with Yoongi. Irritation flickered through me, annoyed that although Mikhail and I went through a minor argument, I still had to follow him to these horrific auctions to sell myself off to these dirty men who surrounded me. Eyeing me like I was a piece of meat being held over a den of ravenous and deranged animals— eager to sink their pointed fangs into me.

It sent a crawling wave of shivers down my skittish body to stand up on the stage and watch as disguting looking men shouted their bets, the digits reaching higher and higher the longer I lingered up on that forsaken stage.

"One hundred thousand," Mikhail muttered to me, fixing my curls that sat perfectly on my shoulders. "Remember that number, Malishka. That's how much we've earned today." He continued to stroke my hair.

Of course, he had completely forgotten about our little mishap when he heard how much money I was going to be giving him today.

There was no we in this. The money that I earned off giving myself way never made it to my hands, as I invariably left this place empty-handed, while Mikhail counted the money in the car as though he earned it his very self through blood, sweat, and tears.

However, at this point, the money didn't matter to me. What mattered the most to me was my safety, and being able to leave this place with both my physical and mental health intact.

I moved his hands from me, showing him that I was still very much upset from our last heated discussion. I kept my eyes away from him, a frown sitting on my blush pink lips, ignoring his gaze that pelted me for my attention.

"Reyna, if this is about last night. Drop it." He seemed to have gotten the hint, his voice filled with alarm that warned me not to push his patience to the very edge. "I don't wanna have that conversation again."

I said nothing, keeping my eyes on the auction that persisted, the people keeping their eyes forward, shouting all the money that remained in their very pockets, ready and willing to give it all up for a short moment of ecstasy and pleasure.

Mikhail's hand crept below my chin, locking his tatted fingers on my cheeks, and moving my face toward his. "The faster you get in there... the faster we can leave." He instructed, attempting to comfort me. "I promise, I will make it up to you, my princess." I wanted to cringe at his nicknames, as though he cared for me enough to label me as his princess.

To any wandering eye, it may have seemed like I was throwing a temper tantrum. Unable to get my fair share of the money, or perhaps it seemed as though I was upset over an insignificant matter— something only a child would waste their energy on.

However, it wasn't like that.

I was upset that I had to partake in this dirty auction, and I was absolutely loaded with ire for having to give up my body for cash I would never see. But, I was also fed up with all the secrecy. Why was my father now a concerning topic for him? After four long years of being under his watchful eye, now my past life suddenly mattered to him? I loathed how clueless I remained compared to the men around me. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that they were all completely aware of who Yoongi was looking for, they just wouldn't budge, or dare to tell me.