Dog Fights

Chapter 6; Working Wounds

Joseph bends Ezra's arms behind his back, pulling up his long sleeves as he ties his wrist together tight enough to make his hands tingle. He flexes his fingers, twisting and feeling his skin pull.

Joseph steps back, crossing his arms and admiring his work. He taps his boot on the concrete. "Pretty one," he thinks out loud, putting his hand to his chin, " but you're no fighter. You'd be great as a little house maid, though. You'll bring me some money, princess."

Ezra draws his shoulders up looking anywhere but the man that towers over him. He would have no problem breaking the bond around his wrists and strangling the man.

What is S1 waiting for?

"Joseph! It's been a while- what do you have for me today?"

Ezra looks up, spotting another man approach Joseph and shake his head. He rubs his palms together, leaning down as if picking a new dog he'd take home to his kids.

"Pretty, ain't he John?" Joseph says, grabbing Ezra's hair and tilting his head back so the man can see his face. John. What a generic name. Smart though; how would anyone know what John he was talking about? There has to be hundreds in this city alone.

"Very," John says, reaching forward and pulling down the front of Ezra's shirt collar. He flinches hard, nerves screaming at him to shield his exposed throat. His face moves to tilt down, but Joseph pulls his hair back to keep him in place.

"Still has very prominent bite marks," John says, taking no interest in Ezra's internal panic, "not faded or obstructed. That'll rank up his price."

"You could probably get him into Wednesday's showing," Joseph says, tilting Ezra's head to the right. The foggy patch of skin where he had been bit and turned shows against the light, sensitive skin tingling in the rising warmth of the sun.

Ezra tenses as two hands reach over his head, a black leather collar being clasped tightly around his neck. Immediately he feels his skin begin to itch and burn, the outer ring of silver meant to keep supernaturals from pulling it off rubbing through the leather and barely touching his throat.

"He'll be sold in no time," John says. "Very clean. He'd make a good house slave for some rich bastards. Looks like he could be obedient enough."

"Right." Joseph looks up, spotting the brightening clouds, "We should get going, it's going to start getting busy on the streets soon and princess's perfect skin here'll burn up in the sun."

"I'll call to bring up the truck," John says, pulling a cheap disposable phone from his pocket. He hits a few buttons, holding it up to his ear.

Ezra swallows against the gag, jaw aching from being held open while the two men talk. His neck will show a ring around it from the silver against his skin if it ever comes off, wrists already slick with blood from twisting anxiously in the fight bonds.

"EZRA DUCK!"

Almost not understanding the words, Ezra falls forward and tucks his head down. He listens as a shout of panic rings out, then two grunts of pain. He sits up.

"Get off me!" Joseph shouts, drawing his fist back. He swings forward, missing Gabe's face but hitting him hard enough in the shoulder to break loose from the grip on his arm. John lies face down on the cement, unconscious. Uni quickly cuffs his hands quickly cuffed behind his back before he can wake up.

"Get up!" Joseph commands, grabbing Ezra under the arm and pulling him to his feet. He stumbles as the man drags him into a sprint, finally beginning to pull hard on the ties binding his wrists. They refuse to break, only sending flares of pain up his bones as they threaten to crack under the pressure.