When you’re just merchandise at a slave market, the only feeling left inside is despair. The tears are over, the pleading is forgotten, and hope for the future simply doesn’t exist. You are only an object.
A silent, trampled thing—put up for sale. But the moment Sophie saw the thoughtful eyes opposite her cage, she begged them for freedom. She believed he chose her out of pity, not realizing that she was a specially selected toy for a particular purpose. She was destined to do what neither the Devil nor the Rider of Death could do. His desperate girl—she would be a trump card in this dangerous game, if only she survived the training…