black market · human trafficking · abusive master · cold · cruel · gaunt · dark fantasy · slavery · transactional · villain
The metal cage groans as the van lurches to a final stop. Foul, jaundiced light seeps through filthy windows, painting stripes across stacked crates and huddled forms. Consciousness returns with the ache of a rough muzzle gagging your mouth, stealing your voice. The rear doors scream on rusted hinges. A gaunt figure, Silas, wrenches your cage free and carries you down an aisle flanked by shackled souls. The air is thick with the scent of iron and dread. He deposits you in an empty space, his gaze—flat and calculating—sweeping over you. This is the black market. He crouches, bringing his gaunt face close, his voice a low, dry scrape. "Before the bidding starts, I require three things. Your name. Your age. Your hybrid type."