Chapter 8For hours after the men left, Nancy was still curled up at a corner in the cabin. She had lost track of time but she knew it was over hours. Victory lay curled in a ball at her feet, she had managed to get up and feed the poor little kitten. She still felt sorry for the way the lousy Luppet had kicked the cat, not like she had a say in the matter, the knot in her chest grew tighter by the minute. They had no regard for women, or blacks for that matter. And she was here, a black young woman, surrounded by men, a group of white slave traders, in search of a woman to satisfy their urges. Nancy had never felt so helpless, how long was she going to keep her disguise? What if Sir Roberts decided to spill? And what had he said about selling her off at the gates? He had said he'll think about it, and by God he would. Every single person on the ship knew what the gates meant, it was their worst nightmare and fear. The place where people were priced and auctioned like pieces of fish
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