The bright lights blinded Hannah. She was sweating despite the tiny sequined dress she was wearing. There were people, but she couldn't see their faces. Words flowed over the loud speaker system so fast she couldn't understand what they were saying-but she didn't have to. An auctioneer's chant was easy to identify in any language.
She was being sold.
Right now.
It wasn't real.
This couldn't be happening.
This didn't happen.
Did it?
The man holding onto her arm twisted, pushing her up onto the balls of her feet. She hissed as her joint protested and tugged the sparkly tunic they'd given her to wear down an inch or two.
She squinted, trying to see into the crowd, searching for a familiar face.
Mason had rescued most of the girls that morning. He was there. Waiting for the right time
