Ed

The shadows in the basement deepened, as if the walls themselves held other people's secrets. Ed wiped the blood from his blade—another competitor was no longer a problem. Routine. Boredom. But in the far corner, behind the rusty bars, he noticed movement.

A girl of about seventeen, huddled in a ball, her eyes wide and filled with pure terror. Thin, almost fragile, in tattered clothes—she looked as if this basement had sucked all the strength out of her. For a second, Ed froze. Not out of pity—he'd long forgotten what that felt like. Something else stirred inside: interest. Rare, almost forgotten.

He didn't ask any questions. Words were unnecessary now. He simply nodded to his men to cover their tracks and to escort her out. When she tried to break free, he merely tightened his grip on her wrist—not harshly, but enough to make her understand that resistance was futile.

She was silent in the car, staring straight ahead as if trying to disappear into the darkness. Ed watched out of the corner of his eye. Her fear didn't repel her—on the contrary, it agitated her. In this city, where everyone either flattered or feared, sincerity had become a rarity.

At home, he ordered a room prepared for her—not a cage, but not freedom either. When she finally looked up at him, it wasn't just terror that was there. Something else flickered there—stubbornness, a spark he'd once seen within himself.

"You're under my protection now," he said, turning away. "While I decide what to do with you."