2
Aiden stayed pressed against the cold bars of his cell for a long time after Marcus fell silent.
The hum of the ship vibrated through the metal and into his palms, a constant low thrum that settled into his bones and made his head ache.
He could hear other sounds now that his own breathing had slowed, distant clanks and muffled voices from somewhere beyond the walls, the shuffle of feet on metal floors, the occasional sharp cry that cut through the background noise and then faded away.
Marcus had gone back to leaning against the wall, his eyes half-closed and his bruised cheek turned toward the ceiling.
He looked like a man who had learned to conserve his energy, to wait and watch and save his strength for something that might never come.
Aiden studied him for a moment, taking in the hollow cheeks and the thinness of his wrists, the way his clothes hung loose on a frame that had once been broader.
"How long have you been here?" Aiden asked, his voice rough from shouting.
Marcus opened his eyes and considered the question. "A week. Maybe longer. Time moves different on these ships. No sun, no stars. Just the hum and the lights."
"Where are they taking us?"
"To a planet called Kor-Valis. It's a slave market. The biggest one in this sector, from what I've gathered. They collect captives from all over, bring them there, sell them to the highest bidder."
Aiden's hands tightened on the bars. "And the females? Where do they take them?"
Marcus shook his head slowly. "Different market. Different buyers. I heard one of the guards talking about it. The females get sold to pleasure houses, textile factories, places like that. The males get sold to mines, labor camps, or private owners."
Aiden felt something cold settle in his stomach. "Pleasure houses."
"That's what they said."
Aiden turned away from the bars and paced the small cell, his boots scraping against the metal floor.
He could not stand still. He could not sit down.
His body was wired with a restless energy that had nowhere to go, and his mind kept circling back to Melissa.
He thought about her face in the firelight, the way she had laughed at his jokes, the way she had said I love you like it was the easiest thing in the world.
He thought about the ring still sitting in his jacket pocket, the ring he had been saving for tomorrow. Tomorrow that would never come.
"She's going to be sold to a pleasure house," he said, and the words came out flat and dead.
Marcus sat up straighter, his eyes sharp now. "You don't know that. You don't know what happened to her. She could be somewhere else on this ship. They might not have moved her yet."
Aiden stopped pacing and looked at him. "You said you saw a dark-haired girl being marched through. Crying. Calling my name."
"I said it could have been her. I didn't see her face."
"But it was her."
Marcus did not answer, and that silence was worse than any denial.
Aiden resumed pacing, his fists clenched at his sides.
He could feel the anger building in his chest, hot and sharp, the same anger that had made him swing at the guard.
He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something.
He wanted to find whoever had taken Melissa and make them pay for every tear that had fallen from her eyes.
"Easy," Marcus said, his voice low and careful. "I know what you're feeling. I've been there. We've all been there. But you can't let it eat you alive. You need to think."
"I am thinking."
"You're not. You're reacting. There's a difference."
Aiden stopped pacing and turned to face him. "What else am I supposed to do? Sit here and wait? Let them sell me like a piece of meat?"
"That's exactly what you're supposed to do. For now. You wait. You watch. You learn. And when the moment comes, you move."
"And when is the moment going to come? How am I supposed to know?"
Marcus shrugged. "You'll know. The guards get sloppy sometimes. The buyers get distracted. There are always openings if you're patient enough to see them."
Aiden wanted to argue, to tell Marcus that patience was a luxury he did not have, but the words died in his throat.
Because Marcus was right. He had already tried the direct approach, swinging at the guard like a wild animal, and it had landed him here, bruised and collared and no closer to finding Melissa.
He needed to be smarter. He needed to be patient.
He walked to the bars again and wrapped his hands around them, letting the cold metal ground him. "Tell me about the markets. Tell me everything you know."
Marcus nodded and shifted into a more comfortable position against the wall.
"The buyers come through in waves. They walk the rows, look at us like we're livestock, check our collars for data.
The collars track everything. Heart rate, stress levels, aggression, submissiveness.
The buyers use that data to decide what we're worth. "
"How do they decide?"
"Depends what they're looking for. The mines need strong bodies that won't complain. The factories need nimble hands and docile temperaments. Private buyers want different things. Some want servants, some want fighters, some want..." He trailed off and looked away.
"Some want what?" Aiden pressed.
Marcus met his eyes again, and there was something hard in his gaze. "Some want bed slaves. That's the worst fate. You get bought by someone who wants to use you for pleasure, and there's nothing you can do about it. The collar makes sure of that."
Aiden felt his stomach turn. "Bed slaves."
"It happens. Not as often as the mines, but it happens. If a buyer likes your face or your build or the way your collar data reads, they'll take you for their private quarters. You belong to them then. Completely."
Aiden thought about Melissa in a pleasure house, trapped with no way out, and the anger in his chest burned hotter. "I'm not going to let that happen to her."
"You might not have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
Marcus shook his head. "You keep saying that. You keep believing it. I used to believe it too. But these people, the ones who run this operation, they've been doing this for generations. They know every trick, every escape route, every way a captive might try to fight back. They've seen it all."
Aiden started to respond, but a sound from the corridor cut him off.
Heavy footsteps approached, accompanied by the scrape of something being dragged across the metal floor.
Aiden pressed his face against the bars and tried to see down the hallway, but the angle was wrong.
All he could make out were shadows moving in the dim light.
A female voice rose from somewhere down the corridor, high and ragged. "Please! Please, I'll do anything. Just let me see him. Just let me say goodbye."
Aiden's heart lurched. The voice was not Melissa's, but the desperation in it was the same. He gripped the bars tighter and strained to see past the corner.
"Please," the voice continued, cracking on the word. "My boyfriend. He's in one of these cells. I just need to see him. I just need to know he's okay."
A guard's voice answered, harsh and guttural, the same language Aiden had heard before. The words were unintelligible, but the tone was unmistakable. Dismissive. Cruel.
The shadows moved closer, and Aiden saw them. Two guards dragging a female human between them. Her dark hair was tangled and her face was streaked with tears, and she was fighting against their grip with a desperate strength that made her whole body tremble.
"Please," she sobbed. "Please, just one minute. That's all I'm asking for."
One of the guards shoved her forward, and she stumbled and fell to her knees in front of Aiden's cell. She looked up through the bars, her eyes wild and searching, and for a moment Aiden thought she was looking at him.
Then he realized she was looking past him, into the cell next to his.
"Jason!" she screamed, and the name tore out of her like something bloody. "Jason, where are you? Can you hear me?"
A man's voice answered from the cell beside Aiden's, low and broken. "Mira? Mira, is that you?"
"Jason! Oh my God, Jason!"
The guard grabbed Mira by the arm and hauled her to her feet, but she twisted and fought, reaching toward the cell with both hands.
The man in the next cell pressed himself against the bars, his face appearing in the gap between the metal.
He was young, maybe twenty-two, with a face that was more boy than man and eyes that were already hollow with fear.
"Let her go," Jason said, his voice shaking. "Let her go, you bastards. She didn't do anything wrong."
The guard ignored him and started dragging Mira away. She fought harder, screaming Jason's name over and over, and Jason's hands reached through the bars, stretching toward her with a desperate futility that made Aiden's chest ache.
Aiden could not stop himself. He shouted through the bars, loud enough to make the guard pause. "Hey! Let her go! Can't you see she's scared? What's wrong with you?"
The guard turned and looked at him with those small black eyes. The guard's face was twisted from Aiden's earlier punch, the jaw hanging at an unnatural angle, and the hatred in those eyes was cold and absolute. The guard released Mira and walked toward Aiden's cell, his rod sparking at the tip.
"You," the guard said, and the single word was thick with menace.
Aiden did not back away. He pressed himself against the bars and met the guard's gaze. "Yeah, me. What are you going to do about it?"
The guard raised the rod, and Aiden braced himself for the pain.
But before the guard could strike, a shout echoed from somewhere down the corridor, and the guard lowered the rod and turned away.
He grabbed Mira again and dragged her around the corner, her screams fading into the distance until there was nothing left but silence.