Endure. Be silent. She tightened her stomach muscles and made herself into a statue. The Overseer’s boots remained in her vision for another moment before he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.

The sound of his footsteps had faded completely before Kim dared look up. She could keep her face from betraying her, but not her eyes. Any slaver seeing the hatred in her eyes would beat her.

“Buyers,” Holly whimpered.

Kim reached over to squeeze the nineteen-year-old blonde’s hand. “Shhh. It’ll be fine.

Maybe there’s a nice one here tonight.”

“Do you think so?” Hope filled Holly’s sweet face.

“Who knows?”

The third slave in the kitchen took Holly’s other hand. “Be strong, honey. We’ll get through this.” She shook her head at Kim, disapproving of giving the younger woman false expectations. They both knew nice men didn’t buy kidnapped women.

Kim only wanted to be purchased, to get away from the Overseer. After that, somehow- somehow she’d get free. She remembered for an instant the surge of the ocean under her boat, the scent and taste of a briny breeze, the camaraderie of the other Georgia biologists. Keep those memories, but bury them deep, where whips can’t reach. She’d get home again. Somehow. Maybe tonight. Any change in routine presented opportunity for escape, especially during transportation. She’d learned the hard way chances decreased once a buyer got her home. Slaves were put into closets or basements when the masters weren’t using them. A shiver ran over her skin. Or cages.

She swallowed. Her defiance had broken against the heavy steel of the dog-sized cage. On hands and knees, unable to stand, to move. Pissing down her legs. Panicking and screaming until her voice gave out.

Her master hadn’t liked it when she’d tried to kill him.

And did you learn anything from your experience, Kim? her inner cynic asked. She scowled. Next time, I’ll stab him faster. Yet she knew in her gut that she’d never have the courage again.