A.M. Seacar

The dimness of a cramped stone cell was interrupted by the faint flicker of light from a smoldering fire pit. An old guard with gnarled fingers and ragged clothes hunched over the coals. His deformed hands pumped the bellows, giving life to the fire. The flames began to dance.
A branding iron lay within the open flames. The roughly hammered stamp at the end began to pulse with heat, glowing yellow.
Without warning, searing pain exploded on Teagan’s naked hip. Her screams and the putrid smell of her own burning flesh echoed in her brain as the V brand was etched accusingly into her flesh.
And thus was she captured, branded slave and chained by the Slaver known as Kraven, a slave to the House of Cree, the auction block her future.