He tossed a leather pouch onto the platform. Gold rang loud on wood. The sound traveled through the square and changed things immediately. Men who’d been laughing swallowed. Sheriff Tate’s eyes flicked to the pouch like it was a prayer answered.
“Sold,” Tate barked, before anyone could think to outbid. His gavel cracked down.
The crowd roared, not joy, not relief. Hunger. The ugly kind that wants to watch someone get hurt just to feel warm for a second.
Sophie’s shoulders tightened. She didn’t move. She looked like a person who had been told too many times that choices were for other people.
Gabe climbed the steps. When he reached her, he didn’t grab her arm. He didn’t shove her forward like property.
He offered his hand.
It was bare. Scarred. Steady.
Sophie hesitated, because the kindness looked like a trick in this town.
Then she took it.
And that tiny choice, that tiny connection, was the first crack in Black Gulch’s cruelty.
