I WAS SOLD TO THE UNDERWORLD KING

The bus ride started out like any other. It was the kind of trip you forget as soon as you get off. The air was hot and felt heavy with people who were tired and eager to be somewhere else. Everyone's voices mixed into a low buzz. Someone was talking loudly on a phone at the front. A child whined about the heat from somewhere behind me. The person collecting money moved through the bus quickly, not really looking at anyone. I found a seat in the middle, near a window so I could lean my head against it. The glass was warm from the sun, and it smelled a little like dust and the city. I watched the streets I knew go by, already counting the stops until I needed to get off. Everything felt normal. That's why I didn't see them at first. They were already on the bus when I got on. One stood at the back, holding the rail, his face blank like everyone else's. Another sat across the aisle, staring straight ahead, not even moving when someone bumped into him. A third was leaning by the front window, his eyes half-closed, looking like he wasn't paying attention. They looked like everyone else on the bus. That was the trick. The bus turned onto a different street, and I only noticed because the ride felt different. The turns were sharper. The buildings outside changed from normal shops to smaller buildings that weren't on the usual route. A man near the front leaned forward. "Driver, this isn't the right way." The driver didn't say anything. A few people looked up from their phones. Someone else grumbled, sounding annoyed. At first, the feeling that something was wrong was small, not strong enough to worry about. Then the doors closed. They didn't make the usual sound. It was louder, heavier, and felt final. A few heads turned at once. man who spoke earlier stood up. "Hey, I said—" He didn't get to finish. The men moved. It happened all at once, like they were waiting for a signal. The man at the back stepped out, blocking the aisle calmly. The man across from me stood up and turned, blocking the way to the exit. The one at the front shifted just enough to stand between the driver and anyone who might try to reach him. The bus went completely quiet. Not silent, but the noise from before was gone, replaced by a tense, focused quiet. Weapons appeared in their hands. They didn't swing them around. They didn't need to. Just seeing them was enough. A woman near the door made a small sound. Someone further back stood up suddenly, hitting the seat in front of him as he tried to move forward. "Open the door!" The man blocking the exit didn't move. "Sit down," he said. His voice was calm and steady, easily heard over the quiet on the bus. The passenger didn't listen. He ran forward, reaching for the door handle, his movements fast and desperate. He was hit hard. The sound was sharp and loud. He stumbled back, falling to the floor with a thud that made everyone else on the bus freeze completely. No one moved after that. I kept my hands on my lap, my fingers loosely curled, my head slightly down. I kept my eyes open, watching everything without drawing attention. The fear in the air felt heavy, but I made sure my breathing stayed even. This wasn't a mess. It was controlled. The men moved through the bus with a clear purpose, stopping at each row, tying hands, pulling people up if they slumped too much. A woman started crying softly as her hands were tied, her voice shaking. A man next to her whispered something, but it stopped when one of the men glanced at him. No one tried to fight again. The driver kept his eyes on the road. That was the strangest part. He didn't react. He didn't look back. His hands stayed steady on the wheel, driving the bus as if nothing unusual was happening behind him. I watched him for a moment longer than I should have. He already knew. The thought came to me quietly. This had all been planned. The bus kept moving, taking us further away from anything familiar. The streets became quieter. The buildings changed. The few people outside disappeared until there was almost nothing to see. Time felt like it stretched out, hard to measure. Minutes passed, or maybe longer. No one spoke. The fear on the bus turned into something heavier, something that didn't need noise. I kept watching. The men worked without stopping, adjusting ties, checking positions, making sure no one stepped out of line. Their movements were smooth and practiced, leaving no room for error. Every now and then, one of them would look around, not because they were worried, but out of habit. They weren't afraid of losing control. They already had it. bus finally slowed down. The change was small at first, then more obvious as the engine quieted and the movement slowly stopped. No one asked where we were. The doors opened. Cold air rushed in, pushing out the warm air that had built up inside the bus. It smelled different, something I didn't recognize, something that didn't belong to the city. "Move," one of the men said. We were guided out one by one. No one fought back. The earlier struggle had used up any energy people had left for fighting. Now there was only quiet agreement, driven by fear and confusion. When it was my turn, I stepped out without hesitation. The ground felt uneven under my feet. I kept looking forward, trying to see what I could without being obvious. The place was hidden, far from anything that looked like normal life. There were no cars passing, no distant sounds, no signs that this place was connected to the outside world in any real way. This wasn't a place you found by accident. It was a place people were brought to. We were pushed forward, guided through a narrow opening that led into a dark hallway. The air inside felt cooler, heavier, with faint echoes of faraway sounds that we couldn't quite hear. Footsteps. Voices. Movement. The space gradually got bigger as we went deeper, the narrow path opening into a larger area that felt organized in a way I couldn't ignore. People were waiting there. They weren't like the men who had brought us. They stood back, watching. No uniforms. No clear signs of authority. Just attention. That was enough. I slowed down a little, my eyes looking up just enough to see their faces. There was no shock, no confusion, no hurry. They looked at us with quiet interest, as if they had been expecting us. As if we were part of something that was already happening. The unease grew deeper. We were moved again, this time toward a section with metal bars. The structure was off to the side, big enough to hold all of us, but designed in a way that made it clear it wasn't meant to be comfortable. The gate opened. "Inside." No one argued. We stepped in one after another, filling the space until there was barely room to move. The air got warmer, heavier with each person added. Someone shifted next to me, their shoulder brushing mine before they quickly moved away. The gate slammed shut. The sound echoed through the space, louder than it should have been. A lock clicked into place. For a moment, no one spoke. Then a voice broke the silence, low and unsure. "What is this place?" No one answered. Another voice followed, louder this time. "They can't do this. Someone will—" It stopped before the sentence was finished. The pieces of what was happening slowly came together, forming something that felt impossible to ignore. The bus. The route. The men. The people watching. None of it had been by chance. I lifted my head slightly, looking past the bars, toward the area beyond where the watchers stood. More people moved in the distance, their shapes partly hidden, their voices carrying faintly through the air. I let out a slow breath, my hands tightening just a little at my sides as I took in the reality of it. Whatever this place was—we had been delivered to it. And we were not leaving the way we came.