The wind pushed dust across the broken highway like a lazy ghost.
On one side of the road stood Zadok and his men_ a few remained, guns raised and faces hard as old leather.
On the other side stood the superhuman traders, tall men with scarred faces who looked like they had survived too many fights and enjoyed the next one already.
Between them stood three miserable prisoners. Ceaser Rommel, once one of the most powerful men in the country. Now, he looked like a frightened goat at a slaughterhouse. His clothes were torn, his hair dusty, and his hands shook so badly he kept rubbing them together like he was trying to start a fire.
