The space behind the door was far larger than Ezra had imagined.
It was like an underground supermarket—long aisles lined with small stalls on either side. But these stalls did not sell goods. They sold human beings.
In every stall, iron cages were stacked on top of one another. Men, women, children—all lay weak, their eyes hollow, their bodies skeletal.
A few buyers were strolling through the aisles, scrutinizing the "merchandise" as if they were inspecting fruit at a market.
A man dressed in a white suit approached Ezra.
"Lord Alex? I am Karim, Mr. Jamal's personal assistant. Mr. Jamal has requested that you wait in the VIP lounge. The auction for the main lot will begin in 30 minutes."
Ezra nodded. "Thank you. May I look around first? This is my first time here."
Karim smiled. It was a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Of course, sir. But please, do not get too close to the cages. They are... filthy. We wouldn't want you falling ill."
Ezra walked through the aisles, his eyes moving rapidly, recording every detail:
* **Emergency exit locations:** Two. One to the east, one to the west.
* **Number of guards:** 20. Possibly more.
* **Number of buyers:** 30–40. Mostly middle-aged men, expensively dressed.
* **Number of slaves:** 200–300. Perhaps more.
And at the end of the corridor stood a larger iron door—marked with the words: **"Special Detention Block."**
*"Maya is in there,"* Ezra thought.
But in front of that door stood four heavily armed guards.
Ezra turned away and walked toward the VIP lounge.