The ship rocked gently as it cut through the sea. Above deck, Captain Timothy had already called in a guard to deal with Daemon. Two officers grabbed his chains and dragged him toward the lower deck—toward the criminals.
"Number 234, this is your new home. Try anything stupid again, and you'll lose a limb."
The guard shoved Daemon forward. He stumbled and hit the floor hard, landing in the dim, stinking underbelly of the ship. All around him were chained men in oversized yellow prison suits, each with a numbered tag stitched to the chest. Some had dead eyes. Some glared like cornered animals. None looked friendly.
Daemon ignored the stares and sat in the far corner, lowering his head. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting to Kame-shima.
He could feel their eyes on him—glaring at his white hair and red eyes. Unique traits had always drawn attention, good or bad. He shut his eyes and waited.
