THE MARKET OF THE WOLVES

Maurice had always been a dreamer. Growing up in the sun-soaked streets of Lagos before moving to the fast-paced world of New York, he carried a passion for music in his soul. His voice was extraordinary, a blend of the rich rhythms of Africa and the smooth melodies of American R&B. With dreams of stardom, Maurice believed he had everything it took to make it big. His charm, talent, and relentless dedication had earned him a place in exclusive circles in the music industry.

One evening, Maurice received an invitation to a mysterious party. It came from a powerful music executive, someone Maurice had been eager to meet for months. The location: an opulent mansion on the outskirts of the city, known among insiders as "The Market of The Wolves."

Maurice had heard rumors about this place. People whispered about deals being made there, and fortunes being exchanged, but no one ever spoke about the specifics. He brushed off the eerie stories, convincing himself that it was just an opportunity to network, maybe even perform in front of some big names. His excitement outweighed his doubts.

The night of the party was unlike anything Maurice had ever experienced. As he stepped into the grand estate, he was struck by the luxury—gold chandeliers, velvet curtains, and a crowd dressed in immaculate suits and gowns. Everyone seemed elegant, sophisticated, human. But there was something off. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural intensity, their smiles too sharp, their laughter too cold. Maurice felt uneasy, but the thought of what he could gain from being there kept him grounded.

As the night went on, Maurice found himself surrounded by individuals who praised his talent. They flattered him, offering compliments that seemed to stroke his ego. One man, dressed in a silver suit, approached Maurice with a contract in hand.

"This is your ticket to fame," the man said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Sign it, and everything you've ever dreamed of will come true."

Maurice hesitated. "What's in it?"

The man smiled, his teeth unnervingly sharp. "Just a formality. A non-disclosure agreement. You’ll see and experience things tonight, things not meant for the public eye. But in return, you’ll gain wealth, fame, and everything you’ve ever wanted."

Caught between his ambition and the strange atmosphere, Maurice made a choice. He signed.

The rest of the night unfolded in a way that would haunt him forever. The guests, once refined and composed, began to show their true nature. As the clock struck midnight, their appearances shifted subtly—just enough for Maurice to see the wolves within them. Their eyes glowed a fiery red, their movements more predatory, their conversations darker. They weren’t human at all.

Maurice realized that he wasn’t at a party with music moguls and high-profile celebrities; he had entered a world where powerful, otherworldly beings played with lives. They were wolves in human skin, preying on the souls of the ambitious, the talented, the desperate. And Maurice had walked right into their trap.

As the night progressed, they made him perform. His voice, normally a gift, was now a weapon they used to draw energy from the crowd. The guests feasted on his melodies, growing stronger as he grew weaker. His body felt drained, as if something deep within him was being siphoned away with every note. He was no longer just a singer; he was a tool in their sinister game.

After the performance, they asked him for more. Demands he never thought he’d agree to—things that went against his beliefs, his morals. And each time he was pushed, the contract he had signed felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

Maurice realized he had sold more than just his talent. His soul was now part of their market. The wolves would use him, drain him, and discard him when he was of no more use. But it was too late. He was bound by the papers he signed, forbidden to speak of what he had seen or experienced.

In the months that followed, Maurice rose to fame. His voice was everywhere—on the radio, in arenas, in homes across the world. But deep down, he knew the truth. The fame, the success, it wasn’t his. It belonged to them, the wolves who lurked behind the glamour of the music industry. And every song he sang, every contract he signed, only deepened their control over him.

He had entered the Market of Wolves, thinking he was dealing with humans, but now, he knew the truth: he was just another soul, traded and sold, in a world far darker than he could have ever imagined.

And escape? It was a dream that even Maurice, with all his talent and ambition, feared might be impossible.