Chapter 7 · Sell Me In

Karl hands me a collar.

Not a necklace. Not a choker. A collar. Black leather, silver buckle, thin chain dangling from the ring.

I stare at it.

"You're joking."

"I'm not." His voice is flat. He's standing in the middle of Marcus's safe house, the one that smells like mildew and old cigarettes, and he won't look at me. "You need to wear it. The auction's in three hours."

Marcus is leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching us like we're a reality show he didn't pay for. He doesn't say anything. That's how I know this is bad.

I hold the collar up. The leather's soft. Expensive. Someone broke it in already. I don't want to think about who.

"You want me to walk into a vampire auction wearing a collar."

"I want you to look like property," Karl says. Still not looking. "That's the only way you get through the door."

I laugh. It comes out wrong. "Property."

"Amy—"

"No, I get it." I toss the collar onto the couch. "I'm bait. I'm the decoy. I'm the sad little blood bag who walks in so you can do whatever the hell you're planning to do.