The flickering lights in the underground holding chamber cast creepy shadows across the iron cages, where dozens of male captives huddled in fear.
The air was thick with the stench of sweat, broken only by the occasional whimper or rattle of chains. Two female guards, clad in their usual thug outfits, leaned against the wall, their batons dangling lazily from their belts. They were bored, their eyes scanning the rows of trembling men like discarded merchandise.
"Did you see that guy they dragged into the VIP room earlier?" one guard, a burly woman with a scar across her cheek named Lila, whispered to her companion. She licked her lips, a hungry gleam in her eyes. "Slightly tall, muscled, face like a damn sculpture. The higher-ups always snag the prime cuts, don't they? Leaving us with these pathetic scraps."
