The air outside the warehouse was thick with smoke and dust. Every few seconds, the ground rumbled from the force of blows inside, and the faint flicker of orange light spilled through the cracks of the wooden walls.
Mayla pressed her hand against her chest, her heart pounding. She knew Trafalgar had told her to stay hidden, to wait until it was over—but the sounds had grown too loud, too violent. Curiosity and worry mixed inside her until she couldn't bear it any longer.
Step by step, she moved closer. The corner of a shattered wall gave her just enough space to peek through.
Her breath caught.
Trafalgar stood in the middle of the firelit chaos, calm and unshaken. The Brawler—massive, armored, nearly twice his size—collapsed forward as Trafalgar pulled a dagger from his temple. The body hit the floor with a heavy thud, and the echo rolled through the burning hall like thunder.
