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They are victors. And all six of the Aurelians share the same pitiless gaze. We are nothing to them but the spoils of war.

“Line up!” the twice tattooed General barks out the order. We file into a line, everyone sharing the same mix of nervous energy, the incredulous shock of still being alive combined by the dread of being forced into captivity and service for the rest of our lives.

I glance over at Rachel. She’s at the end of the line. She’s staring blatantly at the General, eyes wide, as if entranced. Above us, jet-black Reavers flit through the sky, dive-bombing and firing, blue-black beams that arc out with deadly precision. The sounds of explosions and gunfire wash over the planet, but it’s fading. The anti-air batteries drum out irregularly. The warning klaxon is silent.

“I am General Ra’al. This is my triad, General Kriz and General Orr. We take possession and command of this planet, in the holy name of Obsidian. This planet belongs to the War-God now!” He roars out the words, fury in his voice, then glances imperiously over the line of servants.

So Kriz is the pretty-boy and Orr the brute, though I’d never say either of those words to their faces.

“We saved your lives. By the laws of the Old Ways, you now belong to us.”

That makes my heart pound. Tous?Not to him, but to the entire army? Are we going to be sold off to alien warriors, or are these two triads claiming us as shared property?

I saw the hate and lust in the eyes of Krazak, Khra and Bolden, the fiery emotions like infernos in those slate-grey orbs as they stared me down. Me alone. They don’t share the same anger towards the rest of the servants or to humanity. It was like every other woman did not exist.

Their venom is directed only at me, anger that mixes and intensifies the brutal Mating Rage of the species. I saw the way Krazak’s nose flared as he drank up my smell, the way his eyes burned with hate as his cock surged.

If I’m sold to those three, I’ll never escape.

Kat doesn’t like what Ra’al has to say. She steps slightly forward, then bites back words, thinking better of it. Even if that woman got sold or claimed by a triad, she could never truly be owned.

General Ra’al waves dismissively to the row of servants, as if our lives are a clerical matter.

“You nine now belong to the Followers of Obsidian. You will choose your fate. If you are lucky, you will be displayed at the auctions, and if fortune smiles on you, you will be picked by a triad of noble warriors.”

If you’re lucky.

A strange choice of words, and my mind races to interpret it.

What does he mean, we’ll choose our fate? From the terrible stories I’ve heard of Fanatics, we’ll have no choice. We’ll be chained up, leashed and displayed nude at the auctions for his triads to bid on.

Is this the twisted way these animals see the world? Do they think it’s an honor to be bid on like a piece of meat?

I raise my head, glancing over at Krazak, Khra, and Bolden. I’m not ready for the intensity of their gaze as they stare me down, their expressions unreadable, their eyes blank. They are back in control of themselves, and the one thing I know is that I can’t be picked by them.

Any other triad, and maybe I can bear it, maybe I can find a way to plot my escape, just like I plotted my way out of indentured servitude. Krazak’s eyes are too wide, his rage too quick, and the hatred that flashed in his gaze when he first saw me tells me everything I need to know.

He may have saved my life.

The smell of his musky sweat might have smelt justrightin a way I don’t understand, and his power might send shivers down my spine…

But if he is the one that buys me, I’ll be broken and trained, melting under his rage and burning need until there’s nothing of me left.

“You three defended yourselves. Stand aside. Your lives do not belong to us, by Obsidian’s laws.”

The General motions to Summer, Kat, and Rachel. I get a flash of frustration and the unfairness of it, my hand clenching into a fist. I yearned for freedom. I plotted my escape.

And if I had just followed Rachel to the armory and taken up a rifle, I’d be free—even if I knew the decision damned us.

Rachel’s stunned, still transfixed by the majesty of the General, so Kat grabs her hand, pulling her towards the entrance of the garden. Summer follows, her chin up, her rifle in her practiced hands, a warrior keeping herself apart from the line of owned women.

General Ra’al speaks in his alien language to Krazak. The brute licks his lips in anticipation, and Kat whispers something to Rachel—I guess she must be translating.

I don’t like the expression of horror on Rachel’s face when she hear’s Kat’s words, or the way she looks over at me with fear.

Krazak steps in closer to me. Rachel shakes her head minutely, and I understand.

General Ra’al is rewarding his loyal triad with first pick of harem wench.