Dawn Walker

Chapter 213: 213: Where Is my Son!

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A few moments later… The auction hall emptied the way a battlefield emptied after the last horn. Not suddenly. Not cleanly.

People flowed out in controlled groups, each buyer surrounded by guards and contract clerks, each purchased case sealed twice and carried like a newborn that could explode if mishandled.

Some winners left with smug faces that tried to hide shaking hands. Some losers left with smiles that were too polite, already planning revenge in their heads.

The smaller houses departed first, because smaller houses understood that staying near larger houses after money moved was the fastest way to become collateral.

Mira returned on the platform until the final primary lane transfers were confirmed. When she stepped down at last, her calm looked slightly worn around the edges, but she never let the audience see fatigue. She carried the ledger and sealed receipts as if she had been born with them in her hands.

Auri stayed close behind her with quiet focus, eyes sweeping the hall even as the crowd thinned, because the most dangerous moment in any public event was not when everyone was watching, but when everyone believed it was over.

Sekhmet did not move immediately. He stayed seated in the owner’s section, letting the hall drain of unnecessary eyes. Lily remained close, expression composed but sharp, and the twins stood behind Sekhmet like two shadows that had learned to breathe. Their hunger was stable for now, held down by discipline, but their posture carried a readiness that did not belong to normal women. That was the point. They were not normal anymore.

When the last large buyer left, the hall became quieter, and the sound of footsteps stopped being a roar and became individual taps again. That was when Mira approached Sekhmet, offering the ledger and the final short breakdown.

“Young master,” Mira said, voice respectful, “gross total has been recorded. Transfers are in progress. There have been no formal disputes. The foreign seal probe did not succeed.”

Sekhmet accepted the ledger without opening it. “Good.”

Mira hesitated for half a breath, then added carefully, “Iron House remains.”

Sekhmet’s eyes moved toward the far side of the hall.

Dickoff Iron had not left.

He sat in his seat like the building belonged to him, shoulders relaxed, posture controlled, face unreadable. Two escorts stood behind him, and several more men waited in the shadow of the aisle near the exit lane — too disciplined to be ordinary carriers, too quiet to be normal guards. The sealed cases for Iron House purchases were already prepared and set aside under Dawn House escort, as protocol demanded. If this was only about retrieving purchased items, Dickoff could have sent a clerk.

He had come himself. He had stayed.

That meant the auction was not the real reason he had shown up.

Lily noticed Sekhmet’s focus. “He looks like he is waiting to bite someone.”

Sekhmet stood. “He is.”

The twins shifted at once, stepping into a tighter formation behind him. Auri moved subtly closer, cloak still in place, wings still concealed. Mira stepped back half a pace, instinctively placing herself out of the direct line of conflict. She was not a fighter. She was a blade in a different way.

Sekhmet descended from the owner’s section and walked into the main aisle with controlled steps. His shoes made soft sounds on the stone. Tap… tap… tap… The hall lamps hummed faintly above. The containment lines on the floor glimmered so slightly most people never noticed them, but Sekhmet did. He noticed everything now. That was what purgatory did to a person. It turned the world into a map of threats.

Dickoff Iron rose when Sekhmet reached a respectable distance. He did not walk forward like a man seeking a duel. He walked forward like a man approaching a negotiation table.

“Sekhmet Dawn,” Dickoff said, voice calm.

“Dickoff Iron,” Sekhmet replied.

There were still some people in the hall: a few contract clerks, a few Dawn House guards, a handful of lingering buyers waiting for their lane to clear, and a couple of curious nobles pretending they were busy with paperwork while their ears leaned toward the confrontation. Those people suddenly became very interested in leaving, but not interested enough to actually miss the show.

Dickoff’s gaze held steady. “Your auction was successful.”

“It was,” Sekhmet replied.

Dickoff’s eyes flicked briefly toward the sealed cases waiting for Iron House. “Iron House will receive what it purchased.”

“Then receive them,” Sekhmet said, tone flat, “and go.”

A subtle murmur rippled through the remaining listeners. Even in Slik, telling Dickoff Iron to “go” in public carried risk. Lily’s eyes narrowed with satisfaction, because Lily enjoyed any moment that made Iron House look less untouchable.

Dickoff’s expression did not change. “You are eager to end conversations.”

Sekhmet replied, “I am eager to end wasted ones.”

Dickoff’s gaze narrowed a fraction, and in that fraction the air cooled. “Where is my son?”

The question dropped into the hall like a heavy stone dropped into water. It made a quiet splash, then rippled.

A contract clerk paused mid-stamp. A guard’s grip tightened on a halberd. A lingering noble froze like he had just realized he should have left five minutes ago. Mira’s eyes stayed neutral, but her posture tightened slightly.

Sekhmet looked at Dickoff calmly. “I do not know.”

Dickoff’s voice remained controlled. “You do not know.”

Sekhmet’s lips curved faintly. “Do you expect me to track him like a lost pet?”

Dickoff’s eyes grew darker. “He entered this building last night.”

Sekhmet’s tone did not change. “Then he left.”

Dickoff stepped closer by one pace, and the pressure in his aura became noticeable. It did not explode. It condensed, like a lid being tightened.

“My son did not return,” Dickoff said.

Sekhmet met his gaze without blinking. “Then he is in some trouble.”

Dickoff’s voice sharpened slightly. “Trouble you created.”

Sekhmet tilted his head. “I did not invite him.”

Dickoff’s eyes narrowed further. “You are playing word games.”