Lo Prang laughed, a dry chortle. His lean leathery face wrinkled in mirth. His people laughed with him. Even the man who’d just snorted something and the two girls kissing stopped to laugh, at her foolishness, her presumption.

Sam waited for the laughter to die down. “I’ll fight for you again,” she told Lo Prang. “Once I’m back. I’ll beat the best out there. Or I’ll take dives, throw fights. Whatever you want.”

Lo Prang looked her in the eye, then shook his head. “Jade, Jade, Jade,” he said. “Or whoever you are. A few fights wouldn’t come close to covering that.”

Sam stared back at him. “What would?”

She felt his mind working, felt his thoughts reaching out to others in the room. Two women detached themselves from the groups lounging on the couches, approached her from either side. They were in their early twenties, Thai, slender and chesty, in dresses as scanty as the ones worn by the girls upstairs, but more embellished, more expensive-looking. They wore flashy jewelry and sported improbably long nails on each finger, an inch long, red for one girl, black for the other. She caught a flash of muscle on their arms, their legs.

Sam watched them out of the corners of her eyes, her attention still focused on Lo Prang.

“You’re so unhappy, Sunee,” he told her. “Always struggling for something.”

The girls moved languidly towards her, swiveling on heeled feet, until their fingers touched the bare skin of her arms. She could smell their perfumes. Thoughts of pleasure came from them, and devotion. One of them exhaled hot breath against the back of Sam’s neck.

“I could take care of whatever problem you have in Burma,” Lo Prang said. “And in exchange you could join me. You could be part of my little family.”

Sam shuddered at the thought.

“It’s so nice,” the girl on her right breathed.

“Just a little tweak to your thoughts,” the one on her left intoned.

They ran their hands over her, pressing their bodies against her now, and Sam wanted to push them away, but she needed Lo Prang, needed his help.

“You’d be happy,” Lo Prang said.

Their hands roamed over her bare arms, her back, her neck, her sides. Their touch repulsed her. Slaves.

“We chose this way,” they said in unison, in stereo. “It’s so very nice,” they finished together, voices entwined, timing perfect. Pleasure wafted from their minds. Contentment. The warm, enfolding love of Lo Prang. The security of belonging to someone else, utterly, of never having to worry again…

“No,” Sam said, fighting the revulsion. They chose this? Oh, she believed them. It still made them slaves.

“You’d be safe,” Lo Prang told her. “I treat my family well.”