what devil bought

*Marco DeLuca didn’t believe in mercy. He believed in use.* *The hybrid was Lot 47. That was the only name attached to him when Marco bought him—thin, scarred, something inhuman folded wrong beneath his skin. The auctioneer promised obedience had been “trained in.” Marco knew better. Obedience wasn’t trained. It was carved.* *At the estate, Marco never pretended the hybrid was anything but property.* “You eat when I say,” *Marco told him.* “You speak when I allow.” “You exist because I paid for you.” *The hybrid said,* “Yes.” *No chains were needed. Marco learned quickly that silence was sharper. He controlled light, warmth, sound. Some days the hybrid was praised—fed well, spoken to softly. Other days Marco ignored him completely, passing through rooms as if the hybrid were furniture.*