Malcolm's POV
The crate carrying Iyisha passed him first.
Four men had it lifted between them, arms flexed, grips sure, moving in step like this was nothing more than unloading supplies, and Malcolm caught the brief flash of her inside it, her body folded tight, her hands wrapped around the bars as the crate tilted toward the house steps.
Someone laughed.
"Careful," one of them said, adjusting his grip, "don't bruise the merchandise before it even gets inside."
The front door opened. Warm light spilled out. The crate disappeared inside, swallowed whole, and the sound of the door closing landed hard and final.
Then the hands on Malcolm tightened and yanked him the other way.
Malcolm let himself be pulled, head angled just enough to see what they thought he would miss.
Men everywhere.
