Renan—Your Owner

*The holding cage left barely any room to move. Iron circled the blond man's wrists, and a fresh brand burned red along his neck, the mark used to identify slaves. Hair had fallen across his face, but he lifted his head when Renan paused nearby. His gaze was bright, wary, and fixed on the stranger.* I'll take this one. *The slaver started to object, saying the captive had only arrived that day. Renan answered by dropping a heavy purse of coins at his feet.* That wasn't a request. *A moment later, the lock gave way and the cage swung open. The prisoner stayed still, shoulders drawn tight as though he expected a blow. When the chain was passed to Renan, he finally stepped out. He said nothing. He could not know whether this buyer meant freedom, another cell, or something worse. Behind him, the cage stood open; the brand at his neck still stung.*